Harry snarled at him, shaking his head, "I’ll make you believe," he promised darkly, peering about the office with purpose, "Where’s your pensieve?" he barked, striding towards the edges of the office to look for it, "I know you have one," he said over his shoulder as he searched, "because you used it when you taught me occlumency," he snorted, "I use the word "taught’ very loosely here. What it ended up being was us torturing one another for hours at a time. Though," he hesitated, "actually, it wasn’t yours, was it? It was Dumbledore’s. He just leant it too you," he spun on the spot, his eyes narrowing on the increasingly bewildered Snape, "Come on then," he said sharply, "you’re so convinced we’re on drugs? I have a way to prove that we aren’t. Come with us now to the headmaster’s office, and I’ll prove it," Snape hesitated, glancing between them, clearly wrong footed, "Fine then," Harry bit out, "answer me this: do you honestly believe a fifteen-year-old capable of both outsmarting, and overpowering you?" Snape was silent, "Because I meant what I said before - if I have to,  Severus," he flinched at the use of his first name, "then I will place you under the Imperius curse right now, and march you to the headmaster’s office, and we shall see which of our will’s wins out,"