Pudding had only arrived thirty seconds ago to the delight of the students that Thursday night. A day's spellcasting and studying in the vast castle and grounds built up an appetite in teenagers. Professor Storm was not hungry for anything to follow dinner, but had been intently studying Alvis Norling from his spot at the Professor's table at the head of the Great Hall, and was now making his way steadily up the gap between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables, closing in on his prey.

"Norling," he addressed the boy in a cool tone, trying not to show delight in the way the students around him instinctively recoiled and leaned away, never too sure if there was a curse or sharp words to follow the unexpected arrival of their Defence Professor. He had wanted to do this the previous evening, but he'd had to go and cover Trishna's astronomy lesson much to his disgust.

"On your feet, I require you." His expression indicated there was no negotiation on this point, and he gestured with one hand, enforcing that Alvis leave any hope of eating his afters and head in the direction of the doors out of the Great Hall in the opposite direction to the staff table.

In silence he tailed the boy up the gap between the two tables, and through the doors into the entrance hall which was quiet, though did not leave them alone.
"I couldn't help but feel, Norling," the Professor began, turning back just before the enormous front doors of the school, clasping his hands behind his back and squaring his shoulders, "that you had more to say to me yesterday after the lesson at the lake." He fixed the shorter boy with an intense, unblinking blue-eyed stare.

Alvis nearly swallowed his spoon.

It was still in his mouth when he turned, slowly, to face Professor Storm. The Defense teacher remained cool as ever, beckoning Alvis up and out of the Great Hall with neither warning nor preamble. Alvis didn't even have time to collect his things or pack up the book he'd been reading; he supposed he'd have to count on his roommates to bring them up to the dorms if he didn't make it back. At the very least, he remembered to leave the spoon behind.

His stomach sank as they made their way out into the entrance hall, and then settled in a cold and bitter sludge as Storm pinned him with that icy gaze. Alvis folded his arms defensively across his chest and made a point of not looking Ignan in the eye. Unlike so many people, Alvis did not easily to hold onto anger. But he did not, could not trust Storm. He could already feel a prickle of disgust at the invoked day-old memory, yet he wasn't about to give the man a reaction if he could help it.

"I don't know what would give you that idea. If I'd had something more to say, sir, then I would have said it."

He would not meet his eye. He would not.

Teenagers could be so very irritating and evasive, which was very counterproductive at times like this. Though he was not dissuaded from the pursuit of what he had heard.

"And you did." The Professor replied simply, his gaze unflinching. "At first I thought it was just one of you boys mouthing off," he drew breath as two students rushed through behind them noisily and vanished down the corridor.

"But then if someone were to say such a thing out loud, their classmates would react visibly." He stepped forward calmly, invading the usual personal space observed between two people. "But I certainly heard you."

Alvis curled further into himself and slid a step back in retreat. His cheek now rested on his own shoulder. His eyes remained stubbornly locked on a crack in the stone floor. He could still feel Storm's glare and the scrutiny it carried. Was that normal? Or were his nerves making him extra-sensitive?

Either way, he knew one thing for certain: he was a rubbish liar. An edge of panic was already starting to show in the way he bit his lip and gripped his elbows. He half-thought to make a run for it, but that would be a fool's errand -- he couldn't hide from Storm forever. And if the students that ran past were any indication, nobody was going to step in on his behalf. Alvis was on his own.

"I didn't say anything," he insisted again, a bit louder and harsher this time. "Whatever you think you heard was all in your head."

...well. It wasn't a lie.

"Precisely," The Professor hissed, the combination of him being closer than polite, and the fact he now lifted his arms to broaden his shoulders before he inclined towards Alvis only made him look bigger, and more severe dressed in his black academic robes. By the way Norling was standing, it spoke extreme discomfort, but at least the boy wasn't trying to get into his head at that moment to call him something rude.

"You know exactly what I speak of Norling. I think you and I should have a little talk." He drew his wand just enough for Alvis to see but didn't draw it to cast, just to suggest he might.

"My office, or find your feet making their own way." He didn't specify if he meant they'd still be attached to the Ravenclaw with that warning, but did indicate the boy had no option, short of a Professor interrupting them. 

There were many unpleasant thoughts going through Alvis's mind at the moment, but they were all turned inward, cursing himself and the situation he'd managed to fall into. He glanced from Storm's wand to the Great Hall doors, silently pleading for one of the other Professors to notice. Trishna, Kesali...hell, he'd take the Caretaker, if the lion would take him anywhere but here.

No good. All the staff remained at their table. Alvis wasn't stupid enough to press his luck in buying time.

Up the stairs they went, from ground to first floor, then through the Defense classroom into Storm's office. Alvis kept his steps quick but did not run, nor did he push himself to the point that he'd be out of breath -- that might draw attention. Worse, it would communicate fear. Alvis was not actually afraid. Anxious, yes, and overwrought, but not afraid. He kept a few steps ahead of Storm anyway.

In the office, he took up a defensive posture, turning his back towards the nearest wall. He kept his arms crossed but his hands visible. If Storm hexed him, he wouldn't give anyone reason to say it'd been his fault, and that included reaching for his wand.

He swallowed a few times to clear his throat, but couldn't imagine where to begin their little 'talk.' What he managed instead was a soft, strained, "Well. Here we are."

The Professor closed the door behind them as they entered his office and circled Alvis on the way to his desk, the sun was not long off setting just after eight o'clock and the last of the day's sunshine lit enough of the office, but left dark shadows, and something was ticking and grinding amongst the shelves. For a moment, the Deputy Headmaster looked out of his window and down to the grounds, contemplating. It allowed Norling a further moment to marinade beneath his mop of brown hair and glasses.

"Sit." He spoke at last, not looking round, just still aware of the fact Norling was stood with his arms folded down to the lack of sound. He could hear the boy breathing but that was owing to the quiet and the fact he was well accustomed to the everyday noises of his office. His fingers twitched the curtains as he turned to regard the Ravenclaw with a scowl.

"How long have you practiced, Norling?" He asked, not taking a seat himself, but pacing from the right behind his desk to the left, scrutinising Norling, "and who taught you?" If this was legilimency, he wanted to know who had taught the boy such bad manners to enter another's mind without warning. Although the Professor practiced occlumency, he had underestimated that an attack would come from a mere fourth year.
"Legilimency, boy, you haven't studied it with me, but it's clear someone has been helping you." His tone was sharp and he rounded the end of his desk to stand three feet from Alvis to his left, gaze very much intent.

"Sit."

Alvis sat. He didn't want to, but when a teacher gave you a reasonable instruction you followed it, even if they were evil bastards. He forced his arms to un-cross, lowered his hands to his knees, and curled them into white-knuckle fists. He stared at the space between the bottom of Storm's desk and his floor, listening to the professor's footsteps and noting how the light faded a bit when the curtains twitched closed.

"Nobody taught me anything." He chewed his bottom lip, but made no attempt to dance around the subject any longer. It'd be a waste of time, since Storm had already jumped to his conclusions. Better to come clean. "To be perfectly honest, 'practice' is the wrong word. I don't practice anything. I never learned how. It just...happens.

"I know that sounds impossible." He didn't need to be a mind-reader to guess what would next cross Storm's mind, but it helped. "I've read all the mind-magic books in the library, I know it doesn't make any sense. But it's the truth." He sighed and turned his head towards Storm, eyeing the professor as he hovered within attack distance on Alvis's left side. "What happened yesterday was an accident. That's all."

Not that Storm hadn't deserved it. Alvis wasn't about to apologize for anger, not after his best friend nearly drowned. He only thing he worried about was whether it'd count as 'attacking a teacher.' Surely, they wouldn't expel him for something he couldn't control. They let werewolves in the school. His little problem was no more dangerous than theirs.

Norling's lips worked loose with the minimum of effort in the end. Sat on the chair in the middle of the Professor's office in the rapidly retreating daylight.

"It just happens?" The Professor spoke aloud, repeating the earlier part of Norling's explanation. He sounded suspicious and somewhat dismissive of the claim.

"You just saunter into the mind of another as if your mind were a ghost in this very castle?"

There was a flare of light and the quiet roar and splutter of candles coming to light together around the room, it broke the conversation for a moment, and the Professor paused in silence for more than a few moments, staring at Norling thoughtfully. This was unusual, but not altogether unfamiliar. O'Doherty had asked something funny about such at the end of the Autumn term, and Ignan had quizzed Gerard Griers to a similar extent.

"But you can do so by will, or do you lack control of it?" He asked eventually, tone less accusatory and more investigative all of a sudden, curiosity setting in again. Whatever Alvis had spoken without moving his lips at the side of the lake didn't matter - he could have sounded it aloud. He was far more interested in how he'd managed without.

"I don't saunter anywhere. It isn't like that."

Alvis's frown turned into a scowl. In a few hours, he would lie awake, horrified by his own gall that he would even think to snap at Ignan Storm of all people. But the suspicion and dismissal on top of everything else he'd been subjected to was just enough to make him snippy. He could already feel another headache building, and he was so very tired of headaches.

"It's not like I want this stupid power or talent or whatever it is." He rubbed his temple, trying to head off the pain before it could spread. This whole business only got more frustrating whenever he had to explain it. "And I don't know if I can control it. I've never tried."

Truth be told, he wasn't sure he wanted to. He hadn't liked his time in Casey's body. It'd been too lonely. And the alternative -- being able to put this thing to use -- was even worse. If he lashed out again, with more power and better control, he could really hurt someone.

He let his hands fall, gripping the chair beneath him for some sense of stability. He could feel Storm's eyes, his curiosity. Alvis had to focus to keep his own mind from latching on to the familiar comfort of a puzzle. He didn't want this unraveled. Not here.

"What happened by the lake was an accident," he repeated, for what felt like the hundredth time. "This mind-magic thing, it's usually not like that. It's more passive. So it probably won't happen again."

The boy was rubbing his head, and the Professor considered for a split second to let down his own occlumency defences just to see if anything came of it. However he couldn't trust Alvis, however trustworthy and respected the boy was in the Hogwarts community, he was a bright mind and those got bored enough to experiment.

"… I don't know if I can control it. I've never tried." The Professor's gaze was intent, unflinching from the boy, watching hands wrap around the chair and knuckles become white as he claimed the lake was an accident - a plausible explanation given the lack of control and the anger.

Without taking his eyes off the boy, he stepped back from the side of his desk to lay both hands on the tall back of his office desk chair, curling his fingers over the edge of the carved top.

"What is is 'usually like' Norling? When did this all begin?" He asked, his tone still as sharp as if he were questioning Norling in a lesson, but the accusatory tone that had been there as he'd insinuated Norling would come to his office voluntarily or otherwise had slipped away. He was gathering data, research. The student's assurances of it 'probably' not happening again were not enough.

Alvis sighed. The familiarity of tone -- like questions drilled out in a lecture -- was almost a comfort. He hated Storm's classes, but at least he knew where he stood in academic discourse.

He dared to glance up, catching Storm's eye. Of course, the man had his mind locked tight with Occlumency, perhaps not as natural as Mr. Griers but more total than Casey's attempts in-training. The lack of feedback made hair rise on Alvis's neck.

"What is is 'usually like' Norling? When did this all begin?"

"...I don't know. I always thought it was normal." He shrugged, leaving it at that. The whole business was rather like trying to explain sight to a blind man. "Usually, it's more...distant. Passive, like I said. I don't usually put things in people's minds. It's the other way around: I catch things in passing. Just surface things. Snippets of emotion, the occasional daydream, the intent to lie. Like accidental eavesdropping in a crowded room."

As he recalled the timeline of his experiments and exploration, he felt a familiar pain building. The memory of an injury, or something more? If he thought about it, it'd only get worse, so he let his glasses slide down and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"It got worse after Egypt, when I hit my head. That's when I started becoming more aware...but it's something I've always done, as far as I know."

The Professor's pale hands continued to grip the back of his chair as he listened. But as Alvis finished his description, he drew the chair out from behind his desk and sat down. There was a pause as he stared keenly at Alvis, and narrowed his eyes. It wasn't particularly comfortable.

Storm sat back in his chair, his arms resting on the arms of the chair, fingers curled over the end. This explanation had his mind considering several options at that very moment, from Norling's perceived good intelligence in his work being the combined efforts of his nearby classmates (he would consider placing the boy between Pepper and Oliver in future) to how utterly irritating having that sort of noise in your head would be like. He'd encountered one person who had similar, but for what he knew that was all entirely their own thoughts.

"As if every mind that passes you, has a poorly tuned wireless." He stated, almost rhetorically as it was more the Professor thinking aloud. He wondered what Norling could hear from his own mind at that moment, with luck, nothing. But clearly a door that could be stepped through in one direction, was possible for Norling to step through in reverse, hence the voice in his own head at the side of the lake.

"Norling, have your family any seers?" He asked, sitting forward, resting a hand on his desk, "have you discussed your… situation … with any of them?"

"As if every mind that passes you, has a poorly tuned wireless."

"I suppose so." Alvis frowned. He didn't much like the snippets of thought he was currently catching off Storm's mind. Over the last month, he'd begun to form the theory that thoughts directed "at" him -- those that were about him, or coming from the minds of people currently focused on him -- were easier to pick up than the "white noise" of his everyday life. What he caught now seemed to back that up, but the effect was muddled by Storm's occlumency, turning the mess even more "broken wireless" than usual.

He caught curiosity first -- that much was obvious, given how Storm'd decided to question rather than expel him on the spot. The names "Pep-" and "Olive" made his nose wrinkle in disgust. And then there was caution, wariness, and a bit of concern, but Alvis couldn't be entirely certain that those came from Storm.

The talk of Seers turned the frown into a disapproving scowl. The only Seer he'd ever met had been Professor Trelawney, and she had not given him a very good impression He suspected that she didn't really know what she was doing.

"We're artificers. I've never heard anything of a Seer on Da's side, and my mother's a muggle." Alvis shook his head. The thought of talking about this Thing with his parents made his stomach squirm. He wasn't entirely sure why. "I haven't 'discussed it' with much of anybody. Just you. And Mister Griers of Beauxbatons."

And Casey. But that hadn't been a "discussion" so much as a fact of their friendship, so Alvis felt no guilt in leaving it out.

At the mention of Griers, the Professor was momentarily reassured. He would very much like to refer Norling to the Beauxbatons expert. Whereas Storm was a generalist in the field of Defence, Griers was an expert with the mind, and right on their doorstep until the end of term.

"Good." He replied, semi-automatically, considering this. "In that you have spoken with Professor Griers. Had you not, I might insist you did. Either way, it may be prudent to do so again. Not just because hearing the thoughts of others invades the privacy of your classmates, but it will quite possibly drive you to distraction." He folded his arms and the corner of his mouth twitched in a smirk. "If what comes out of your classmate's mouths are anything to judge, what's in their heads cannot be much better." He spoke such as if to exempt Alvis from this generalisation.

"This summer, you will check back through your family for seers, those of similar disposition. Artificers marry, blood muddles."

He moved suddenly to reach for quill and parchment, noting a few things down in his scratchy, jagged handwriting.
"I will set you reading, exercises - the basics of occlumency may help you filter out this noise." He gestured with his right hand about his head, the quill between his fingers, gaze not focused on Alvis a moment as his mind was busy considering possible options.

"But in the short term, Norling," he put aside the quill and leaned over the desk towards the boy, tone altogether less pleasant all of a sudden, "Stay out of people's heads." His eyes narrowed. "If I find you in mind again, I will not hesitate to return the favour…"


End