Legilimens
Alex
"Same place? Won't your master find that a bit suspicious?" The brunette fucker asked, leaning back against the crumbling archway of Hastings Castle.
Alex had originally picked the location because of its proximity to the coastline, and the wards he was meant to manage. But he had discovered the desolate castle, one protected and managed by the muggles in the nearby town, and found it all too easy to commandeer. The lack of a wizarding community meant that a few well placed repellant and confunding spells rendered the structure undesirable to visit, even for locals.
When Alex didn't respond, Sebastian tried again, "You didn't get yourself killed. Color me impressed."
Alex would've believed the tosser a few feet from him was as nonchalant as he pretended to be, if it weren't for the dark circles under his eyes and the tremors in his fisted hands.
Alex himself wasn't much better off. The last three days had been spent alternating between Ash's chambers and as far as the duchy of Permia. He was tasked with ensuring countries were ready to fall in line, as well as checking in on those countries whose leaders were already under thrall. When Alex wasn't walking down back alleys in the slums of Serbia, he was at her bedside.
He had woken her periodically, to check her condition and shovel potions down her throat. She was no better, if anything, she seemed further and further gone every time he rennervated her. Her skin would alternate between icy and burning hot, and the skin under her manacles and collar only grew more cracked and burnt.
The fourth time he had woken her, in an attempt to give her water and food, she had begun talking. It was nonsense, babbling as if her brain and mouth were disconnected. But the longer he left her awake, the more conscious she seemed to become. She had begun screaming— a nonstop mantra of 'get them out, get her out'.
He had stunned her when she began clawing runes into her forearms. And then he had sat in the wingback chair near the fireplace and stared at her with a sinking feeling in his gut. He wasn't sure how long he stared at her. Or at what point, it became impossible to hate her.
The lack of servants and competent guards at Black Manor, coupled with Black's attention on the crumbling state of Europe, meant hiding her condition was easier than expected. At least at first.
Yesterday morning, Black had arrived back at the manor and requested an audience with Alex. Requested, as if it were a choice. He had gone, of course, to meet with him in his secluded office. Alex had kept his eyes averted, under the guise of respect, but truthfully out of fear of Sebastian's warning. Alex hadn't even thought of Black possessing legilimency. Surely Alex would be aware if Black had read his thoughts in the past. He would've been dead thrice over if Black had seen his traitorous behavior. That didn't stop Alex from projecting thoughts of hatred for Black's pet and excitement for the missions to come to the forefront of his mind.
Black hadn't asked to see his pet— Alex wasn't sure what he would've done if he would have had to bring her.
No, Black was focused on one thing.
It was time to move against the English Ministry.
With the laws and legislation passed in surrounding countries— those focused on increasing task forces to root out The Sword of Gideon, removing muggleborns from places of power within each ministry, requiring those of muggle descent to register themselves, as well as countries such as Romania, which had just passed a law prohibiting muggleborns from practicing magic or purchasing wands— Europe was falling apart.
Any suspected sympathizers to the terrorist organizations' cause were now killed on site in numerous countries across the continent. No trial. No sentence to Azkaban.
France had closed its borders weeks ago, erecting wards all the same as England had. Russia had declared a state of emergency, with no ability to enact wards around such an enormous country, and had brought in dementors instead to monitor the borders closest to western countries. Rumors had spread that countries within the Ottoman Empire had begun cutting trading ties of magical goods with any Western European nation. The United States Wizarding Senate had yet to release a statement, though international portkeys had become scarce and highly regulated.
The pushback against the new muggleborn laws was growing at an equal rate to the discriminatory practices themselves. Riots in the streets of Budapest, government officials struck down in Rome, a practical civil war in Switzerland— Alex himself had nearly taken an acid hex to the leg when he was in Bucharest. He had apparated directly in a protest-turned-street-fight when checking in on the enthralled minister.
The dominos were in place. And England was the last to fall.
The English ministry seemed to be aware of the dire situation, and had increased security elevenfold. All civilian entrances to the ministry were now closed, and only highly guarded portals remained. The minister himself, Basil Osric, was constantly in meetings with his most trusted advisers from the Wizengamot. Phineas Black was of course included in these discussions— a pureblood of high standing, with connections not only to the most prestigious wizarding school in Europe but a highly ranked member of the Wizengamot. Of course, he was involved.
Six days.
Six days, Black has said, until his wraith was unleashed on England. Six days until Black himself would step into the minister's shoes and bring order to Europe as a whole. Until it was discovered that his wraith was not in her right mind and she would be tortured— and Alex along with her if it was discovered he had withheld information on her condition.
That was yesterday. And as Alex stood amongst the ruins with Sebastian and his blond companion, panic seeped into every corner of his mind and body. Five days now.
"Is this the one you've brought for occlumency?" Alex said, not bothering to acknowledge Sebastian's earlier taunts.
Sebastian pushed off the pillar and stepped towards his friend, who was so rigid that Alex knew he wasn't happy to be there. The blond looked around Sebastian's age, though he held himself with an air that Alex had come to recognize as someone with better breeding than himself. He wore a charcoal suit, vest and all underneath, sans tie. The moonlight was bright tonight, and Alex noticed the boy's milky white eyes. That explained why he seemed to stare above Sebastian's shoulder when he turned towards the brunette.
"He has agreed to teach you, as long as you are aware that it is an uncomfortable process." Sebastian said.
Alex sneered, "Because I assumed fucking with my mind would be oh so pleasant."
Sebastian clenched his jaw, ignoring the sarcasm, "How is she doing?"
"Worse." Alexander said simply.
"He hasn't asked for her?" Sebastian's throat bobbed, "You've kept her safe?"
Alex scoffed, safe. As if had her in a spa somewhere, pampered and preened. As if she weren't currently tied to her bed, unconscious. "Her master has been occupied. But—" Alex ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, "He plans to move against the British ministry in five days. If she isn't out before then—"
"Five? Sebastian, that's imposs—" The blond started, but Sebastian didn't allow him to finish.
"I'm working on something. I'll get her out." Sebastian wasn't looking at either of them. Instead, he was staring into the nothingness beyond Alex's person. He looked haunted. Ragged.
There was a silence, something weighted, that pressed down on the three of them. Alex hated himself for the sense of relief he felt in sharing the burden of their rapidly approaching deadline— hated that he was able to take a breath for the first time in days, seeing the shared devastation and panic blossoming on Sebastian's face.
"We're wasting time," the blond sighed and raised his red-tipped wand. Alex felt a slice of panic at the idea that he was about to curse him, but then Sebastian's friend stepped forward until he was only a foot away from Alex. The tip of his wand fizzled out as he lifted it towards Alex's face. The boy was an inch or two shorter than him, he noticed, and Alex let his gaze fall above his head. He tried to relax, but found it difficult with a weapon pointed directly between his eyes.
"I'm not as proficient in legilimency as I am in occlemency," the blonde said, leveling his wand near the middle of Alex's forehead, "But I know enough to help you build basic occlumency shields against someone who trespasses in your mind. Though, if your master is skilled, he could notice your sudden abilities. You'll need to work not only on creating barriers to your mind, but ordering your thoughts in a way that protects them without suspicion, while also allowing certain thoughts or memories to be found."
Alex didn't respond. How did someone build 'barriers' in their mind? Was he supposed to picture something specific? Was he supposed to do anything at all?
"He doesn't understand you, Ominis. Just show him." Sebastian stared the pair of them down as he settled against a stone archway.
Ominis's face pinched before he pressed the tip of his wand sharply against Alex's forehead, "Legilimens."
Suddenly Alex was no longer standing on the grassy hill, and every preemptive thought vanished as he found himself surrounded by blackness and swirling sound.
An off-key piano and giggling were seemingly right in front of him, but he could see nothing. He made to step forward, but a hand latched onto his shoulder, "It's best not to wander when you aren't used to the dark."
Alex spun, knocking the hand off, and faced Ominis. Alex could see him, only him, amidst the shadows around him. "Why is it—"
"I cannot see your memories, so you are experiencing them from my perspective."
"Right there— yes that's middle C!"
Alex heard her childish voice to his left and he turned as if that version of her would be standing there. Instead, wisps of shadow brushed against his face, a dark maelstrom of memory just beyond his reach.
"How are we supposed to read this gibberish?" His own voice replied, younger, innocent, and laced with an adoration for the girl Alex knew was propped up on a piano bench beside his younger self.
Alex knew this memory, even without seeing it in front of him. He could picture himself, clad in a ragged cotton shirt and trousers, dirt covering his dark skin. She would look no better— her blonde hair would be half-matted and her grin a bit toothless from her recent loss of baby teeth. The basement around them would be dingy, covered in dust from years of neglect. And yet, that was the most safe place in the world for the two of them. It made his chest ache, hearing her giggling response.
"It's not gibberish. And Calliope said she would teach me."
"Well you'll have to teach me t—"
The sound of rustling wind seemed to push the memory away, and Alex and Ominis with it. He was shoved through the blackness, a porcelain hand tightly gripping his arm as they spun and spun until—
"Rookwood's do not cry, boy." A voice sneered in the distance, an echo of his uncle. Alex's stomach turned at the sound he hadn't heard in three years now.
"I want to write to her." A younger Alex sniffled in the darkness.
Alex felt sick as he pictured this particular memory. He had been adopted only weeks ago, and brought into the magical world. It was everything he could have wanted— a family, a purpose, magical gifts at his finger tips. Everything except the sister he had left behind. But he'd learned not to care about that, not when he had been so special in his uncle's eyes.
"I don't want to hear this," Alex hissed, turning to face Ominis.
"Then shut me out." Ominis responded, voice hollow as he paid rapt attention to the scene.
The memory continued ahead, "You cannot. She is not gifted like you, and we Rookwood's do not trifle with those beneath us."
Alex tried, he squeezed his eyes shut and pictured a wall between Ominis and this memory. He imagined stacking bricks atop one another, creating a fortress to separate them from the scene; but all he felt was a shutter— a quick stumble in his uncle's voice— before it continued.
"But I love her—"
A slap sounded in the nothingness, echoing around his mind—
"Stop." Alex croaked, his eyes still tightly shut. His body trembled with the force of his attempt. He tried imagining a strong wind, like the one earlier that changed memories, to blow this scene beyond Ominis' and his own ears. He pictured a hurricane, like those he'd read about in adventure books once upon a time, sweeping the two of them away from here. He forced his mind to think of battering wind, of a raging force to throw them from this place.
A strong push at his side forced him to stumble, and suddenly the memory was yanked away as he and Ominis fought against his mind's conjured storm. The sudden winds were brutal, knocking the two of them around like ragdolls. Angry— the winds of his mind were so angry. He felt them tearing at his clothing, howling in his ears, and ripping at his skin—
A tug at his arm by Ominis, and suddenly they were elsewhere. The same darkness, but now silence. Alex's breathing was ragged as he righted himself in the stillness. No wind blew here, not even a breeze.
"A good attempt, though a bit heavy handed. Next time, try replacing the memory you wish to hide with one you can use to distract," Ominis said, seemingly unaffected by the summoned hurricane, "You need to picture the memory you wish to distract with, in your mind. Pull it forward as you subtly push the other away."
Alex nodded numbly in response. He was exhausted already, and wouldn't have been surprised to find blood leaking from his nose and ears in the real world after this.
Then the screaming started.
Chills snaked up Alex's spine at the broken sound.
Far beyond the veil of darkness, her screaming began. It was animalistic, broken up with sobs and pleas—
"Don't do this!" Ash screamed, her vocal cords already frying from the short amount of time she had been on that table.
"Tighten the collar, lad." A voice responded, one warped beyond recognition.
A golden thread began glowing on Alex's forearm, tightening as Ominis studied the voices amidst the shadows. Alex couldn't breathe, it was as if the thread was wrapping around his throat as well. Or maybe it was guilt. Guilt from hearing her pained cries that wouldn't fucking stop—
"Don't," Alex rasped, gripping his arm as the thread began digging into his skin, "The Vow."
Ominis didn't heed him, instead, he stepped closer to the scene, amplifying the voices.
"A perfect weapon. Patience, you see?" The voice continued. Alex knew it was Black, but the Vow was protecting his identity even here. His voice was lower, stretched, and echoing like some sort of phantom. "Patience is truly a virtue. I had to be sure, Miss Cendrillion, that you were my magnum opus. Your antics two years ago were impressive, of course, but once you opened Isadora's repository—" he chuckled, "You truly saved me from the work of dealing with Ranrok. And showed your true colors in the process, which are magnificent."
"My ancestors didn't understand patience," he continued, "But I haven't the same affliction."
Screaming greeted his words. Her voice was shattered now, broken into fractals as she ripped through her vocal cords.
Alex heaved at the sound, retching as he bent at the waist. He dug his nails into the flesh now gripped tightly by the Vow, as if he could tear the burning threads from his arm. "Please—" He was going to die. If Ominis pushed the Vow any further he was going to die right here— and he would deserve it. For the screaming he always heard in his dreams, he would deserve this—
Ominis' hand slid back onto his shoulder, and suddenly they were back on the grassy hill. Alex was no longer upright, instead he was splayed on his back with Ominis standing beside him. Alex hissed as the Vow began receding, leaving thin cuts along his tattooed arm in its wake.
Ominis didn't bother another second with him; instead, he turned to where Sebastian was still leaned against the ruins. "It didn't work. The Vow protected even his voice."
"So that's what this was about?" Alex hissed, pushing himself up from the ground. His muscles ached as if he'd been hit with a cruciatus. "You weren't actually teaching me occlumency, you were testing to see whether you could extract my master's identity before fucking killing me? I could've told you that wouldn't have fucking worked."
"We had to be sure." Sebastian sneered, "And it was a lesson in occlumency. Clearly you need to practice."
"Clearly." Alex snarled back, his shoulders sagging under the weight of it all. He hated how vulnerable he felt, his body still shaking and mind reeling from the assault of memories and the constraint of the Vow. He stood on shaky legs and turned from the two of them. He needed to get back anyway. The moon was much lower in the sky than it had been before the blind prick had entered his mind. He gritted his teeth against the lingering tension in his muscles as he prepared to apparate.
"I need their blood."
Alex stopped and looked over his shoulder, "What?"
Sebastian worked his jaw, "I need a sample of Ash's blood and a sample of your master's in order to continue what I am working on."
"That's not possible."
Sebastian glared, "Make it possible."
Alex flicked his gaze between the two of them, meeting Sebastian's challenging stare and Ominis' blank expression. He subconsciously ran his hand over his damaged arm, feeling the thin slices that ran along like threads. He had gotten her into this.
He tore his gaze from the pair, "I'll figure something out."
"Practice your occlumency." Ominis added before he took Sebastian's wrist and apparated them away.
Alexander was left standing amongst the ruins, feeling himself crumble like the broken stone around him.