Isabelle's gaze drifted down to her wrist, where Albert's fingers were still firmly clamped. A shadow of a frown crossed her face—not one of fear, but of aristocratic annoyance. "Are you planning on keeping that as a souvenir, Anderson? Or is there something else you're after?"
Albert blinked, the intensity of his new Level 2 Occlumency fading just enough for him to realize he was still holding onto the school's most talented Ravenclaw. "Right. Sorry," he said, releasing her with an awkward cough. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to find his usual equilibrium. "I suppose I got caught up in the moment. The truth is, I'm not quite ready to call it a day. I want to learn the other side of the trade. I want to learn Legilimency."
Isabelle didn't immediately turn to leave. She adjusted her sleeve, her eyes scanning Albert with a new level of scrutiny. "Our contract was specifically for the art of closing the mind. You've paid for a shield, Albert, not a sword. And looking at you now..." she paused, her eyes narrowing as she searched his face, "...you've already mastered the shield, haven't you? Your mind feels like a brick wall painted to look like a cloudy sky."
"I'm a quick study," Albert replied, his voice regaining its smooth, casual edge. "But a shield is only half a defense. To truly understand how to hide a thought, I need to know how a mind-reader hunts for one. I'm willing to double the tuition. Ten more Galleons. Or... we could find another way to settle the debt."
"Another way?" Isabelle echoed, her voice tilting upward in curiosity. She stood there, frozen in thought for a moment.
The silence between them stretched, becoming thick and heavy. Isabelle was genuinely rattled. In all her years at Hogwarts, she had never seen anyone—not even the most diligent seventh-year—absorb the fundamentals of Occlumency in a single afternoon. A ridiculous, fleeting thought crossed her mind: Had he been playing me? Had he already known the spell and simply paid ten Galleons just to spend time alone with her? She looked at him—really looked at him. Albert was handsome, certainly, and his maturity far outstripped his years. Even her sister, Katrina, had mentioned that Albert didn't act like a boy; he acted like a man wearing a boy's skin.
As she looked into his dark, unreadable eyes, Isabelle's expression shifted. It became something softer, yet more confused. Her thoughts were racing down a very specific, very "teenage" path. She began to wonder if this entire "lesson" was just a very expensive, very elaborate excuse for a date.
Albert saw the shift in her expression. He saw the way her eyes darted away and the slight flush creeping up her neck. He was a genius, but he was also a teenage boy with the memories of a man; he knew exactly what that look meant.
"I... uh..." Albert felt a rare moment of genuine social panic. "Isabelle, don't get the wrong idea. This is purely professional interest."
"January 13th," she said suddenly, her voice a bit too sharp.
"Pardon?"
"My birthday," she clarified, regaining her composure with a haughty sniff. "If you want to learn the most invasive magic in the wizarding world, ten Galleons isn't enough. It's a secret for a reason. If everyone could do it, society would collapse. It would be like everyone walking around with a loaded crossbow pointed at each other's heads. No one could keep a secret, and no one could tell a lie."
Albert pulled out a small notebook and a Muggle pen, scribbling the date down. "January 13th. Got it. I'll make sure the 'additional fee' is something appropriate for a girl who already has everything."
As he tucked the notebook away, his eyes met hers again. For a heartbeat, the air in Classroom 17 felt like it was charged with static electricity. Both of them looked away at the same time, their movements stiff and unnatural. The misunderstanding hung between them like a physical weight.
Does he like me? Isabelle wondered, her heart hammering a rhythm she couldn't quite explain away with "magical exertion."
Is she actually considering it? Albert thought, his mind racing through the tactical implications of accidentally winning the heart of a Ravenclaw prodigy.
"Ahem!" Isabelle coughed loudly, breaking the spell. "One thing you said is actually correct. Legilimency and Occlumency are tethered. Since you've already built the internal structure to hide your thoughts, you should, in theory, be able to project your intent into someone else's. But it's not just a spell. It's an act of will."
She began to pace the small area between the desks, her lecture style becoming more fluid as she retreated back into the safety of academia. She explained how the Ministry of Magic worked tirelessly to keep Legilimency out of the hands of the public. It wasn't just about privacy; it was about power. Those who could see the truth held the keys to the kingdom.
"We have one shot at this," Isabelle said, stopping in front of him. She looked him straight in the eye, her expression serious. "I'm going to lower my defenses just a fraction. If you're too rough, you'll give me a migraine. If you're too weak, you'll see nothing but static. This transaction ends today, Albert. Success or failure, we're done."
"Understood," Albert said, his playful demeanor vanishing. He raised his wand, his focus narrowing down to a single point. He visualized the "window" she had spoken of. He wasn't looking for a memory; he was looking for a connection.
"Three... two... one... Legilimens!"
The world didn't tilt this time; it shattered.
Albert felt himself being sucked through a straw. Suddenly, he wasn't in the classroom. He was standing in a garden of high, overgrown grass. Two young girls were running ahead of him. One was Isabelle, younger, her red hair flying like a banner. The other was Katrina. They were laughing—a sound so pure and sharp it made Albert's chest ache with a borrowed nostalgia.
The scene shifted violently, like a film reel being yanked.
He saw a gray, overcast sky. The smell of damp earth and lilies. He was standing near a graveyard. A woman was holding Isabelle's hand, her grip so tight it looked painful.
Albert looked around the memory. He saw figures standing in the mist. There was Mog MacDougal, looking older and more somber than Albert had ever seen him. And further back, standing near a weathered stone monument, was Ronald Smith.
But it was Smith's face that caught Albert's attention. He didn't look sad. He looked... calculating. His eyes weren't on the grave; they were on the people surrounding it, tracking them like a predator counting sheep.
Before Albert could lean in closer, he felt a massive, invisible hand shove him backward.
He gasped, his eyes flying open. He was back on the cushion in Classroom 17. Isabelle was slumped in her chair, her face pale and her breathing coming in ragged, shallow bursts. She looked like she had just run a marathon.
"Are you... are you okay?" Albert asked, his voice shaking slightly. The images he had seen were still burning in the back of his mind.
Isabelle took several deep, shuddering breaths. She wiped a stray lock of hair from her face and looked at him. There was no arrogance left in her eyes—only a profound, weary exhaustion.
"I'm fine," she whispered. "But that's it. The deal is over. Don't... don't ever do that again."
Albert nodded slowly. He stood up and offered his hand to her, helping her up from the cushion. "Thank you, Isabelle. Truly. I've learned more today than I have in a year of classes. You're a natural at this. You should consider teaching one day. You have a way of making the impossible feel... attainable."
Isabelle took his hand, her palm cold against his. She gave him a small, tired smile. "I don't think every student would be quite as 'attentive' as you, Albert. And I certainly don't have the patience to be an auntie to a bunch of dunderheads."
"Even with that praise, I'm still not giving you my secret for staying young," Albert joked, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere. He gave her a playful wink.
Isabelle's mouth twitched, her eyes narrowing as she pulled her hand away. "You really are an insufferable man, Anderson. You're already trying to read me again, aren't you?"
"I failed," Albert admitted with a shrug, leaning against the desk. "It seems I still need direct eye contact and a lot more practice. I couldn't get back in if I tried."
Isabelle let out a long breath, and some of the tension seemed to bleed out of her. She felt a strange sense of relief that he hadn't surpassed her completely. She acknowledged his talent, but her pride still needed a small victory.
They gathered their things and left the classroom. The sun was beginning to set, casting long, golden shadows across the stone floor of the corridor. Albert thanked her once more at the staircase.
"You paid for the service," she said, her voice returning to its cool, detached Ravenclaw tone. "There's no need for gratitude. Just... be careful with what you've learned. Legilimency isn't a toy."
As she turned to head toward the Ravenclaw tower, Albert remembered something. He called out to her as she reached the first landing.
"Oh, Isabelle! I almost forgot to ask... does that thing we discussed actually work?"
Isabelle paused, looking down at him from the stairs. A mysterious, almost feline smile touched her lips. "If you have to ask, Albert, then you aren't ready for the answer."
With a flick of her robes, she disappeared around the corner, leaving Albert standing in the hallway, his mind buzzing with the secrets of the dead and the golden weight of new power.
[Skill Discovered: Legilimency (Level 1)]
Albert smiled. The ten Galleons were the best money he had ever spent.