Alina Nightshade doesn't think much about James Potter. Only that he seems rather keen on being annoying.
James Potter thinks Alina Nightshade is a mystery all wrapped up in a very pretty girl. And he is keen on trying to be her friend.
James Potte...
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Alina pores over the Occlumency books she's collected, but they prove disappointingly redundant—everything in them is already familiar.
She leans back in her library chair, eyes drifting to the ceiling where candlelight casts wavering shadows. The book before her lies open, another in a small stack beside it. She's been at this for two days, and tomorrow is Christmas.
Her mind feels... secure, fortified even. But she's determined to perfect her Occlumency shields, ensuring they're impenetrable.
Alina isn't entirely sure why she's so focused on mastering this skill. Perhaps to keep Dumbledore from intruding on her thoughts, or to prevent her parents from ever trying.
Or maybe it's for the Dark Lord.
She blinks, returning to the present.
A fleeting thought crosses her mind—what does the Dark Lord look like? Who is he?
But after a moment, she dismisses it. She doesn't really care.
~~~
Christmas has come and gone, and Alina spent most of the day in her dorm, tucked away from the world. Some might consider it sad, but she finds comfort in the solitude, relishing the time alone with her books.
That's exactly what she's doing now—reading in her dorm. The muffled sounds of a small party echo from the common room, but she pays them little mind. The Occlumency book in her hands is yet another rehash of the same techniques she's already seen a dozen times.
With an annoyed sigh, Alina snaps the book shut and pushes it aside. She's lying on her bed, stomach down, and reading about Occlumency is proving to be more frustrating than enlightening.
Her gaze drifts to the book, its cover still in pristine condition despite her irritation. She taps her fingers lightly against it, deep in thought.
Maybe it's time to try. To actually attempt protecting her mind and see if she can make it work.
Alina closes her eyes, exhaling slowly. The books have all instructed her to clear her mind of thoughts and emotions—something that comes easily to her, a skill honed out of necessity in her household.
Her mind becomes a blank slate, an empty room where nothing stirs. The distant noise of the party fades away until it's as though it doesn't exist at all.
Walls. Shields.
She tries to envision a barrier around her thoughts, a protective charm encasing her mind. But something feels off. It's as if her mind is being pulled, drawn toward something outside herself.
Her brows furrow as she struggles to anchor her thoughts, to tether them to the walls she's imagined.
But it doesn't work.
Her mind is yanked away, like the disorienting sensation of Apparition, and suddenly she finds herself in a vast, open field.
