The Year Before Tomorrow

Year III- Practical Legilimency

Chapter Eighteen- Year III- Practical Legilimency

It was easier to shield one's mind than to successfully infiltrate someone else's, at least for Hermione. She should have been proud that she could utilize both skills, but her nagging perfectionism prevented that.

Hermione had had the fortune of attending a school which boasted three dual-Masters in the arts of manipulating the mind, and so she measured herself by those standards. Never mind that the youngest of those Masters had twenty years on her, and that the older two were many times her age. Never mind that she'd already gotten further in the Arts than virtually anyone else by the age of 24, and a Mudblood to boot.

Even so, she had to admit that she was improving rapidly with all this practice. It was the little things that mattered. Hermione had read plenty on Legilimency, and every source agreed that the best way to truly get into someone's head was to condition them to obey. Long-term projects, such as this one, were most effective when gradual. Begin with something that the subject would think on their own, and then slowly from there begin introducing things that the uninfluenced person would object to. It was important, no matter what, for the subject to get used to obeying.

You're stressed, Hermione said to Rhea's mind. You should call an elf and tell them to run you a bath. She waited with as much patience as she could muster, and finally after a few minutes Rhea excused herself, expressing her intention to take a bath.

Good, excellent, wonderful. She controlled her glee, turning to Morfan. "Won't you please let me have a bath too? Without a house elf? I love them, but I'd rather they not accompany me in the washroom."

"I don't see why not," Morfan said, his eyes glassy for a moment.

Morfan's mind was as different from his younger wife's as it could possibly be. His shields were nonexistent, and he was so easy to manipulate it was ridiculous. He was intelligent, to be sure, but if anything that made it easier to nudge him. Apparently he'd been a cruel man when he was younger, and only his age kept him in check now. It seemed he'd pulled one too many favors, and he'd been warned that he would receive prison time as he deserved if he didn't rein it in. He fully intended to take advantage of Hermione's youth and naivete to pit her against his wife, and Hermione decided not to squash the idea.

As unpleasant as Hermione found Rhea at times, she couldn't help but respect her. Rhea knew exactly what sort of person her husband was, and she flattered his ego while smoothly guiding him where she wanted him. She would have been a Slytherin had she attended Hogwarts.

"Thank you, sir!" Hermione said, getting to her feet. Her lip stiffened against the curl it was compelled to. Showing her disgust now would be silly.

Appearing to remember himself, Morfan added, "An elf will take you there. No reason to get lost, hm?"

"Yes, sir," she said, narrowing her eyes at the doorway. "Vici?" The house elf appeared, only noticeable through a subtle shift in the air. A breeze where there shouldn't have been one, one might say. "If you would take me to the washroom, please?"

Vici nodded gravely and grasped her by the wrist. Hardly a blink later she found her footing on the slick marble tiles.

The washroom was an antique, designed however many centuries ago. The room contained a gargantuan tub and very little else. The toilet and sink were in another room entirely, somewhere across the hall. The tub was sleek and black, and actually made of ebony, as it turned out. It reminded Hermione irresistibly of the Prefects' bathroom at Hogwarts.

"You don't need to help me wash today, Vici, but I would like you to stay and talk to me, if you don't have anything important to do."

"Vici does as Missy wishes," Vici said, as smoothly as an uneducated house elf could. The twitch of her ears told Hermione that she did, indeed, have other tasks, but didn't dare say so.