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He would speak louder, then. Harry's fingers on the inside of Daphne's skull rested gently on the surface. He was unwilling to dive deeper, and wasn't even sure if he was able. The mind of a witch seemed different than the mind of a muggle. His own ability was likely too clumsy and while he felt certain an accomplished Occlumens would have noticed by now, that doesn't mean she knew nothing about the mind arts.
Pureblood…Sacred twenty eight…Potter Ring…
He felt the words in her thoughts. He resisted the immediate urge to withdraw his hand to look at the ring and settled for merely withdrawing his hand.
He felt impressions of nervousness, a desire to find something, a desire to make things move.
He cocked his head at her.
Am I puzzle to her? Or do I merely puzzle her?
He decided that she wouldn't hurt him and turned his gaze back to his book. Daphne glanced at it and read the title.
"The Mind, The Maze?" She looked at him for a moment, his eyes moved away from the description on sending impressions to coax out potentially valuable memories as she explained, "My father had a copy in the family library."
"Have you read it?" This was definitely a more interesting turn in the conversation.
She shook her head and he felt disappointed, and relieved, of course. He turned his gaze back to the words. There was a means to send pain through the link to another mind. To use emotions and feelings to find what one desired. The book described a probe for deeper thoughts as well. He frowned. He had always felt like a bird flying through the skies of another mind. Or a fish through their thoughts. Perhaps he had never been deep enough.
"Where did you get it?" She asked, maintaining the conversation. To be fair, there hadn't been enough silence to break the dialogue truly, but he had hoped from her nonverbal answer that she was done with him.
"It was a birthday present," Harry answered softly, with a touch of happiness.
She grinned back, "From who?"
He frowned, the question was slightly personal but there was nothing illegal about Legilimency or learning it. It was difficult to prove that it was being used and it was more about the rudeness and invasion of privacy it represented than anything else for common wizards. Wizards who had powerful secrets to keep might react strongly to the breach and defend themselves – both directly and legally – but the vast majority of the population knew little about the mind arts and wouldn't detect the breach at all. It wasn't like he would get Dumbledore in trouble if he was honest. Not illegal, just obscure. There were of course exceptions so that the ministry could keep secrets but, aside from that, it was just magic.
He rubbed the crease in his jawbone where he broke it. Or had it broken, he supposed.
"Professor Dumbledore gave it to me," he finally answered.
Her eyes widened.
[Headmaster… trained…]
"Has the headmaster given you any other training?"
He frowned. "No training, just the book."
He felt her relief or… something. He struggled to identify. She was… scared that the headmaster might have trained him. No that wasn't quite right. Why? Would others be put on edge from that too, or was it just her?
She meets my eyes even after seeing I'm studying the mind? She must believe that she would detect a breach or otherwise that I can't do it wordlessly, let alone wandlessly.
It was a fair assumption, against most first-year students. That, or she was simply ignorant about the mechanics of the art; also possible.
He returned to his book and the landscape passed them by them in silence for what felt like hours. He felt extremely uncomfortable. In the end she had withdrawn a notebook two write something down before getting a book of her own to read.
There was another knock. A bushy haired girl with large front teeth opened the door without preamble.
Rude.
"Have either of you seen a toad? A boy named Neville lost his."
Daphne looked up and shook her head while Harry looked at her confused.
"Why don't you use the point-me charm?"
The bushy haired girl seemed surprised. Harry pulled out his wand from the pocket in the front of his robes near his chest and held it out.
"Point-me Neville's Toad."
The wand swung to the right angled towards the bushy haired girl and towards the front of the train.
"It's that way," he informed her softly.
"Was that one of our charms? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard - I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough - I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you. Are you a second year?"
Harry blinked and looked at her.
She's just anxious. She's worried she won't make any friends and she'll be miserable here.
Just like me.
"I'm Harry Potter, and this is Daphne Greengrass. I'll be a first year here." He realized he wasn't certain if Daphne was a first year. He looked at her.
"I am also a first year," Daphne added politely.
The bushy haired girl looked at Harry, ignoring Daphne and looking at his forehead.
Even more rude.
"Are you really? I know all about you, of course - I got a few extra books. for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."
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