Chapter Text
When he entered the Headmaster’s office, he had no idea of what to expect – Harry hadn’t done anything terribly wrong in the last week or so. And even if somebody had noticed him skiving off PE on Tuesday afternoon, his Head of House might have talked to him before he would have been summoned to the Headmaster himself.
"Harry, you're here… Come in, come in."
Dumbledore waved him in.
"Thank you, Professor."
Harry took the offered seat as well as the offered sweet. As the taste of strawberries and yoghurt mixed on his tongue, he wondered why Dumbledore's eyes were missing some of their usual twinkle peering over the half-moon glasses.
Had there been another attack by the Death Eaters? Ever since Harry had lost his Godfather in a shoot-out, he was always worried about somebody else getting hurt. This year, he had appealed to the Headmaster for the fifth time to let him join the Order, but as ever, Dumbledore had refused, claiming he needed to finish his education first. Harry had been beyond disappointed. Wasn't it enough that he had waited for years already? That he had trained his fellow classmates in combat techniques last year, when there had been the attack in Dufftown and the school's temporary administrator wouldn't let them have even a single class in self-defence? He was ready now.
"Thank you for coming, dear boy," Dumbledore cut his train of thought short. "No need to worry, as far as I know, there has been no mischief on your part," he winked, "– and I'd rather not know if there has. There has been a somewhat unfortunate development among the terrorists, however, our intelligence tells me that they have gotten it in their head that you have intimate knowledge about the Order's secrets.
"No need to worry, Harry, you are quite safe here," he added, "but it would be foolish not to admit that you were right when you asked to join."
Harry's jaw dropped. Was it finally time? Excited, he shifted forward in his seat, impatient to hear how he was going to be involved.
"We will, of course, do everything in our power to protect you, but the risk of the terrorists trying to capture you is higher than ever. It would be careless and irresponsible, should we not use your time at this school to give you at least a start in training. The hand-to-hand combat you seem to have well in hand, if you pardon the pun."
The fact that he didn't chuckle made Harry uneasy – what was his training going to be? And why did the Headmaster seem to be concerned about it?
A soft knock on the door announced another visitor, but Dumbledore paid it no mind.
"Strategy and psychological warfare, however, are a completely different story. And if you are going to be privy to classified Order information, you need to be able to resist its extraction. The Order is prepared to offer you this special training. To that end, I have asked Professor Snape to assist."
Right on cue, the door opened and Snape walked up to the Headmaster's desk. After a nod to Dumbledore, he kept standing, arms crossed in front of his chest.
Harry's face fell and his elation and excitement soured. Why did it have to be Snape? Not only did they not get on during class because Harry didn't have any interest in Chemistry and Snape was a shit teacher, the man seemed to hate him on principle. Harry knew for a fact there were a lot of Order members who actually liked him, so why did it have to be him?
His disappointment seemed to show, as the corners of the Headmaster's mouth turned up a little.
"It lies in the nature of the training that it cannot be administered by someone you have a close relationship with. We are in luck that Professor Snape agreed to help."
Abashed, Harry nodded and waited for Dumbledore to go on.
"With your explicit permission, he will conduct a proper Resistance To Interrogation training with you. You have the weekend to compose yourself, to build your mental shields, so to speak, and on Monday, the training will begin. Severus, I trust the preparations are well underway?"
Snape inclined his head. "They are, Headmaster."
Harry let his eyes run over the man's body. He looked healthy enough to put up a good fight, but Harry had gained a little weight and muscle over the summer and thought he could probably take him, unless Snape had some special training for hand-to-hand combat. So whatever this Resistance Training was, Snape needed to buckle up.
Snape turned to Harry. "The RTI is not for the faint-hearted, Mister Potter. Think long and hard about whether you really desire to subject yourself to isolation, fear and pain for as long as a week; longer if necessary."
Harry refrained from rolling his eyes only out of respect for the Headmaster. Like in his start of the year speech, Snape was unnecessarily dramatic.
"I am not merely talking about discomfort – you will be hurt, you will need medical assistance, and there is going to be a severe impact on your mental health as well. We will be far, far out of range of a student-teacher relationship."
His eyes bored into Harry's, intent to make him understand.
"Very far out," he enunciated clearly.
Harry's mind raced, trying to imagine what he would be doing to him – he could take a beating or two, but Snape's demeanour implied something more… Harry swallowed. Weren't there any legal restrictions to Snape's methods?
Dumbledore sighed.
"If you were to agree, Harry, I admit that in the interest of realism it might be best to give Professor Snape leave to simulate reality as closely as justifiable. He knows the Death Eaters' methods and the dangers of capture best, after all."
He would, having had a brief stunt with the terrorists in his youth. Harry's unease grew by the minute. Snape might exaggerate the consequences just to scare him off, but Dumbledore's concerns were… concerning.
"You would spend the time locked away from the rest of the school, without pause or safe word. But Harry, please understand that no one in the Order would think any less of you if you decided to postpone the training until next year or after you finish school even, and join later."
And there it was: Harry was allowed to join, but just on the condition of finishing the training. So despite his misgivings, there really was no question anymore.
Dumbledore peered at Harry over his glasses. "You have all the time you need to think about-"
"I'll do it," Harry quickly cut in. "I've been waiting for so long, I don't need any more time. I've decided."
The Headmaster seemed resigned.
"So be it," he said. "Then I will ask you to leave now, Severus."
Snape bowed and left with a side glance to Harry, mouth turned up in a sneer. To Harry, he looked annoyed by Harry's choice instead of excited to have been given leave to bully his least favourite student to his heart's content. When he was gone, Dumbledore leaned back into his armchair and folded his hands.
"The training will start at any time after the weekend. Under the pretence of an infectious disease, you will be excused from all lessons for as long as it goes on. I believe I do not have to stress that the utmost secrecy would benefit us in this endeavour."
His raised eyebrows prompted a nod from Harry.
"The task itself is easy: I will tell you a secret that you will refrain from revealing under any and all circumstances, until such time as I officially declare the training finished. While Professor Snape will subject you to different kinds of stress, you will get to know your body and mind's responses to it and figure out how to best deal with it. Any questions?"
Harry thought feverishly about what he needed to know, but there was nothing. The task was easy: keep the secret, endure whatever Snape was going to throw at him. He shook his head.
"Alright," Dumbledore said, leaning forward conspiratorially, "The secret I want you to keep is this:…."