CH22 - Elspeth's Affinity

The school had finally settled back into its usual routine after several weeks of hysteria. The next quidditch match that happened at the end of November was tense, but eventually, the crowd was roaring at its normal level of excitement once more.

The game was an odd one, in which the seeker's role was far less pivotal than it often ended up being. Ravenclaw was well over 300 points ahead of Hufflepuff by the time Cedric caught the golden snitch. In the end, his contribution was only so far as ending the misery of the house of badgers.

Cedric and Cho's relationship remained strong throughout the buildup to the game, and even after it. Cedric playfully ribbed that he was the better seeker of the two, while Cho taunted back that the Hufflepuff team needed at least something going for it.

'...Well, she's not wrong,' Edmund thought before his thigh was impacted by a stinging hex once more.

He hissed, swearing loudly in response before his eyes focused on the person in front of him.

Elspeth stared back at him, unimpressed by his anger.

"Those hurt, you know? Repeated impact at the same location with a stinging hex can cause incredibly severe bruising," Edmund complained indignantly.

"Well then, your highness," she mocked, "you should have included 'no stinging hexes' in the five hundred page contract you had me sign."

Despite Elspeth's clear exaggeration, her annoyance was warranted in this case. Edmund refused to take any chances with his secrets or his mind, and the document he had drawn up was iron-clad in its specifications.

At the end of each lesson, Elspeth's mind was wiped of all the knowledge she had gained from him in their training. Hence, using legilimency on her to learn Edmund's thoughts was not even in question. The girl herself would not even remember the memories she had looked through.

It presented a bit of awkwardness for Edmund when she learned something particularly shocking, but he would rather go through that hassle than take the chance of something going wrong. If he were going to be exposed in any way, it certainly wouldn't be because of his own laziness.

"Focus," she demanded, snapping her fingers in front of his face. "Learn to be patient, because your attacker certainly will be. If your mind drifts even slightly, your thoughts can be manipulated to wander to specific memories over time."

"If you start thinking about the quidditch match, I can shift that to what you plan to do after, and continue down that line to get whatever I want from you. I am only a beginner in legilimency. The true experts are so experienced that your musings will just seem subconscious to you, while they plunder your mind with ease," Elspeth warned.

Edmund nodded determinedly, looking into her eyes. Without further hesitation, Elspeth began once more.

"Clear your mind," she said.

And then the agony began again.

*-*-*-*

- (Scene Break) -

*-*-*-*

Edmund clutched his head in both hands, his world swimming around him. Occlumency training was painful to the extreme, at least if you wanted to learn it as fast as he did.

Elspeth had attacked him again and again, using different methods until he was able to stave off each one. She would throw in a small variation every time, wanting to see if he could deal with it.

The primary component behind success with legilimency was the power of the caster, but technique and creativity were also vital. Elspeth could not replicate each type of attack Edmund would face, but she could give him a broad overview so that he would know how to tackle different scenarios.

The girl was clearly bitter about her situation, and the brutality of her training reflected her mood perfectly. The only time Edmund ever saw Elspeth with a smile on her face was when he was in pain, making him more glad each day that he had roped her into submission.

Still, he would not complain about her pushing him. It was what he had asked for, and he would not change anything even if he could. If inflicting pain on him motivated her, Edmund was ready to become a masochist.

Gulping down a headache reliever, Edmund finally raised his eyes.

"More?" he asked, refusing to give up.

Elspeth scrutinized him, her gaze looking him up and down. Despite her intention, a look of respect could not help but appear in her eyes. She had battered him, and she knew it. It took a strong will to suffer such pain willingly.

"No," she shook her head. "More training in one day will negatively impact your psyche, and only fray the edges of your mind."

Dark reminiscence filled her eyes then, as well as the smallest hint of satisfaction.

"How can you possibly judge something like that?" Edmund asked, morbidly curious.

He was sure that the extent to which she had displayed talent in the mind arts could not be natural. There was something more to her strange affinity. Something sinister.

"Why, I've experienced it of course," she grinned wickedly. "After all this time you've spent with me, certainly you must have figured out that I'm not quite right in the head."

Silence.

"When?" Edmund asked somberly.

She paused for a few seconds, unsure where to begin, before clearing her throat.

"My mother, she's muggle-born, you remember?" Elspeth asked.

Edmund nodded in response, prompting her to continue.

"Even now, muggle-borns have almost no prospects in the wizarding world. During the war, it was even worse. Most positions of power were held by bigoted purebloods, and they certainly didn't want to hire any mudbloods. The few that weren't so stuck in their ways were too fearful of the Dark Lord's wrath to risk giving a muggle-born a job anyways," she recounted grimly. "My mother banged her head against recruitment notices for months, before she was finally taken on as a clerk in the DMLE. Even that was only at the behest of Alastor Moody, who refused to bow under any pressure."

Elspeth's voice turned happier then.

"He was a godsend to us. Our family was broke, and my mother was pregnant with me. By the time I was born, he was practically family. My mother used to point him out to me whenever we would see him. 'Look, there's uncle Moody,' she used to say. Of course, he hated it when I called him that, but he never corrected me either," she said amusedly.

"Unfortunately, when I came to Hogwarts, I learned quickly that being a muggle-born with connections to one of the greatest dark wizard hunters of all time wasn't a sterling reputation to have," Elspeth said, shaking her head at her past naivete.

"Most were content just to harass me. Spells in the halls. Potions in my food. Shoving me down staircases. Locking me in broom cupboards. The usual stuff. Awful, but expected after a while," she dismissed. "But there was one, a fifth year by the name of Felix Rosier..."

"He despised me," Elspeth said simply. "His father, Evan Rosier, was a death eater. A dead one at that. Killed in the days following the Dark Lord's fall when his followers were being rounded up. Killed by Alastor Moody," she smiled, though her face was pulled tight.

"He was a crazy fucker," she said, laughing in her usual unhinged manner.

"No, seriously. Even more than me," she added when she saw the look on Edmund's face.

"He was shy, incredibly so. But at the same time proud and entitled," Elspeth commented. "From what little I know, there was a girl in his class he liked. Loved. Or at least, so he thought. But he was so terrified at the thought of rejection that he said nothing. Yet, he couldn't leave her alone either. So he stalked her. Followed her everywhere, noting down her every movement and action. Eventually, even that wasn't enough for him. He delved into legilimency, wanting to know her thoughts, convinced she harboured the same feelings for her."

"Let me guess. She didn't," Edmund asked.

"No. She didn't," Elspeth confirmed. "He was enraged about it, but as I insinuated, he was a coward. The girl was pureblood, and of a higher station than him. He could do nothing against her, so he picked another target entirely. Me."

"With me, he abused his abilities to the extreme. No thought of mine was left private. No aspect of my life was left untouched. He knew everything about me, inside out, and he enjoyed the level of power he held over me. I was scared back then. Too fearful of retaliating against him. How could I? As soon as I even thought about it, he would know," she said, painting a vividly horrifying picture.

"He used to call them 'punishable thoughts.' Thinking about telling the staff was punishable. Thinking about telling my family was punishable. Thinking of telling Alastor Moody was punishable. Thinking about almost anything was punishable. And punish me he did. Mentally, with projections of how he would make my family and I suffer for the wrongs done to him. Gruesome pictures of torture, dismemberment, and execution. And physically, with me basically being his dark curse tester," Elspeth recalled.

"Had I only had the courage to report him even once, I could have ended my suffering. But I was young, and I was stupid. Just about every idea of rebellion had been broken out of me by then," she explained. "But not all of them."

"Soon though, my mind began to adapt. Even without training, I began subconsciously occluding. My thoughts began to become hidden from him, something I eventually realized. It was tricky. I had to maintain the balance of power he had gotten used to, while at the same time planning a way to escape. The hours I used to learn advanced magic secretly, I had to forge fake memories for. If he noticed no gaps in my recollection, then he wouldn't be able to tell that something was wrong," Elspeth revealed.

"You created false memories to such a detail that you could completely fool all his senses? Knowing only the very rudimentary basics of what mind magic even was?" Edmund asked in awe.

"I had to. To survive, I needed to ensure he suspected nothing," she said, allowing some smugness to colour her tone.

"What happened to him?" Edmund asked.

"He died. Apparently, he transfigured a block of wood into a gas, inhaling it. When the transfiguration fell apart, wood chips pierced him from the inside a hundred times over. His lungs filled with blood because of the punctures, drowning him. A transfiguration accident, according to the authorities, " Elspeth smiled malevolently.

"Hmmm," Edmund agreed. "A real tragedy."

He might be against senseless violence, but Edmund wasn't above cruelty when he felt it was deserved. Felix Rosier would garner no sympathy from him.

"Exactly," Elspeth confirmed. "A tragedy."