Voir

Psukhḗ

The class's attention was focused intently on the beautiful women who stood in front of the auditorium's blackboard, her hands primly writing latin phrases with chalk as she spoke quickly, her words concise and to the point.
"The word 'psychopathy' stems from various origins. First and foremost, it is derived from the greek noun 'psukhḗ' meaning soul, and 'páthos'; suffering.
Another interpretation of the term's entymology is the separation of psyche, referring to mind, and pathy-- literally meaning disease of the mind."
The students quickly took notes on her lecture, keeping up with her fast pace as she moved on from the term's entymology and zeroed in on the actual disorder. A cough was heard coming from the left side auditorium, abruptly followed by a question.
"Wait, go back to what you were saying earlier. Are you suggesting that an individual's state of mind is directly reflected upon their soul's composition?" A man with dark, disheveled hair and a pair of square-framed glasses spoke up from his seat. The girl next to him looked over in surprise-- very few people had the courage to interrupt Professor Voir's train of thought when she was in mid-lecture.
However, Fenne Voir just looked over at her inquisitor with a thoughtful look to accompany her usually stiff countenance. "In theory, perhaps. The existence of such an entity has not been scientifically proven, as it exists from a spiritual standpoint rather than based purely off of fact. But in theoretical terms, yes. A person is composed of only their personal experiences and upbringing.. Someone who has been treated poorly or damaged would be affected negatively in terms of their psyche. However, psychopathy is not a disorder acquired from a later age-- it stems during early developmental stages."
The student grinned slightly, "But it is possible?"
She eyed him warily, wondering what was passing through the man's mind before conceding his point. "If one was to ignore the science pointing in the opposite direction... perhaps."
A bell rang and she wiped off the blackboard's contents as her class filed out of the auditorium, waiting until all but her curious inquisitor had vacated the room. She heaved a laboured sigh and spun around to look at Harry, who now stood at her side. She was met with his sheepish grin and rolled her eyes at his audacity.
"Is there a specific reason you chose to crash my psychological research class or were you just looking for something to occupy your Friday afternoon?"
Yes, he was receiving her infamous raised eyebrow. He even kept track of how many times that expression had been used on him. The count was somewhere in the triple digits now.
His grin tripled, "Well, you know I was always fascinated with your subject."
"Really? I seem to remember you dozing off into a plate of treacle tart the last time I lectured you on sociopathy's history within figures of power."
He held a laugh in and shook his head guiltily "I don't know what you're talking about."
She gave a short laugh, shaking her head this time. "Bullshit. Now, what do you need. As much as I enjoy your company, we would've just met up for coffee if you wanted to talk knitting."
"I'm touched you remember my secret hobby."
"Your humour grates on me."
He snorted and sighed, plopping down on the front of her desk, gathering his thoughts before he told her what he came for. "I'm sure you recall the research that my department has been putting together."
She sat elegantly down in her office chair, appraising her fingernails boredly. "Hardly. Seeing as you work in the 'Department of Mysterious Wankers', my knowledge of your activities stops at wanking."
He let out a large laugh at that. "I don't think I've ever heard you say something that crude before."
"Do you see what you have reduced me to?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "We've come across a problem in chronical magic."
"And?"
His eyes were slightly bewildered at her response. "What do you mean 'and'? Problems in this field are huge!"
"Seeing as this does not involve me, I find myself disinterested."
"I was getting to that."
"Well, move it along. I've got a date with Doctor Who."
"What's a Doctor Who?"
"Let's just acknowledge that your years within the magical world have rotted your last few braincells and you are inept in terms of pop culture and get to your point. As much as I enjoy our blustering conversations- no I don't."
He mumbled to himself, "Grumpy, I see."
"Please speak up kind sir."
"Nevermind."

The mood sobered as Harry dragged out a long sigh and swiped a hand tiredly through his shock of dark hair. "It appears we've located a niche."

His words warranted a blank expression from Fenne in response; "Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

He rolled his eyes in trepidation, "Can you at least pretend to be intrigued? I know it's difficult, and chronical magic isn't a crazy-as-a-bag-full-of-cats wizard or anything but give me a little credit."

The raised eyebrow in response was so typical of the stiff witch that it almost seemed comical.

"A niche refers to a point in time when outside interference in the timeline triggered events that occurred in the future. Some niches only trigger minor things like stomping on a butterfly, while others are more impactful."
Fenne nodded primly from her place beside him, signifying him to continue.
He shot her a mock glare and acquiesced. "If you had been paying attention to my conversations about my work you would know that my job is to identify each niche we can locate in our timeline, find the correct person who is to join that niche and travel with them to the niche until their part has been played in that section of the timeline."
Fenne rolled her eyes, "As much as I pretend otherwise, I do understand what you do. I just don't agree with it because it was know-it-all wizards who were the source of these problems in the first place. If you hadn't been meddling with time turners in the first place then this wouldn't be an issue."

"It's not as simple as that. Voldemort enthusiasts have managed to get their hands on our high-powered time turners and have been messing with his school days. That's why I've been put on the case and not one of our rookies."
She scowled venemously, "So you imbeciles created this problem, have you? You and I both know that your Department of Mysterious Wankers shouldn't have been wanking around with this kind of magic. Let's not forget that I come from a dark family. I know first hand how these things end." Her expression grew darker with the words she spoke. To mess with the timeline meant meddling with the fabric of a tapestry so delicate that one risks snapping a thread when ghosting over and creating a paradox that would eliminate the world as it were.
His grimace was more apologetic than resentful. "I've been tasked with locating the individual required to fill the niche and assist them with the process." At this, he shifted awkwardly on foot and cast his gaze from her to the now spotless black board that was once graced with words disecting human thought.
"And you discovered that I am said person." There was neither a hint of surprise nor emotion in her tone once the words escaped her lips. Fenne had always been unshakeable, and this unusual circumstance was no exception.
He painstakingly met her gaze and gave a minute nod in affirmance.
"I thought as much. My answer is no."
The phrase was spoken as if she had simply waved off a waitress, rather than a rescue mission.
Harry looked as if he had been struck, "No? And risk the timeline?"
"All you have given me is a vague description of the mission and have yet to produce a reason of which benefits me to fulfill this venture."
His voice dripped in sarcasm at his rebuke "You'd think the opportunity to save your own arse would be beneficial enough." He knew this approach wouldn't prompt a reaction from her, but the words burst forth nevertheless.
"One would think a psychologist would jump at the chance to assess one of the world's most influencial psychopaths."
At this there was a lengthy pause in which Fenne gathered herself and silkily responded. "I hadn't realized that Tom Riddle was in this equation."
The ruffled wizard scoffed. "Didn't you? I did mention it."
"No, you simply alluded to the niche occuring during his time. You never actually informed me that I would be working with him."
Harry rolled his eyes and ran his hand through his hair once again in agitation. "What difference does it make?"
She ghosted past him to gather her suitcase before flicking open the clasps and placing her belongings in hastily, her grace almost faltering in her somewhat professional excitement.
"It changes everything."