CH43 - Honeyed Words

The apple of Hesperides slowly disintegrated from its place at the edge of the ritual circle, transforming into innumerable motes of light. The particles flowed into Edmund's head steadily, altering his mind forever.

The site lit up more and more brightly as the enhancement occurred before the glow blinked out altogether.

Knowledge flooded his mind, giving him an intuitive understanding of how to manipulate the ability granted to him. In a sense, it was a lesser form of hypnosis, granting him the power to implant suggestions, twisting inner emotions and trains of thought as he pleased. Every time he spoke, a wave of invisible magical waves would be sent out of him and penetrate his desired target, allowing him to manipulate them subconsciously.

It was a highly insidious energy that none would realize they were being infected with. Resistance against it was capable by anyone with impeccable control of their minds, whether it was through occlumency or not. Even then, no traceable magic would be left behind if the suggestions failed. The victim would not realize an attempted magical manipulation had occurred because no entry to the mind would have happened.

In contrast to his previous rituals, the aftermath left Edmund feeling like he was floating on a cloud. He felt great, fantastic even.

Edmund grinned eerily, unnaturally wide.

The world seemed ripe for his taking. All he wanted, he could have. All he needed to do was ask. All he needed to do was take it. It would be so easy to—

"Edmund," the speaker warned lowly. "Your occlumency! Use it!"

Edmund ignored her, causing the speaker to repeat herself more loudly.

No response.

A bucket of water was emptied onto his prone form, diverting the thoughts in his brain from their atypical path to outrage.

"Don't tell me what—" he began.

"Careful," the speaker growled irritatedly, massaging her temple with the pads of her fingers. "Your words have even more power now than they did before."

Edmund scrunched his face in realization, his memory of the ritual's short-term side effects returning to him. Recklessness, rashness, impulsiveness, and unfounded overconfidence were typical, a remnant of the impact the fruit would have had on its prey. His occlumency subdued the storm of emotions in his mind, leaving him to cringe at the behaviour he had been exhibiting.

"Sorry," he said wholeheartedly, bowing to the speaker in thanks for her patience with him.

"Do not be sorry. Be better," she admonished him. "This false sense of invincibility could get you killed. Work on conquering it until it holds no power over you. Foolhardiness has never been your way. Do not make it so now."

"I will," Edmund nodded resolutely.

The speaker sighed as she moved on, knowing there was no reason to dwell on the situation. "More importantly, you must work on your control as well. You gave me the' suggestion' like a hammer hitting a nail. There is no point in subconscious manipulation if the other person can tell you are doing it."

"Yes," Edmund conceded. "But it would have felt like that to you regardless of how well of a first attempt I made. Your willpower is too strong for it to work on you until I get much, much better with it."

"Hmm," the speaker considered. "So there's no point in you practicing it on me. You need someone more susceptible."

"That's right," Edmund confirmed.

"Any ideas?" she prodded.

Edmund scowled. "Unfortunately, yes. I don't think I'm going to enjoy it, though."

*-*-*-*

- (Scene Break) -

*-*-*-*

"No way! Don't believe her! Trust me, Lucinda's a total slag," Romilda giggled with her hand over her mouth. She looked around in both directions and then continued in an exceptionally loud whisper, completely undermining her previous measures to prevent being overheard. "Rumour has it she promised Harry Potter a little 'favour' after the Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw quidditch match if they win, you know what I mean?"

"Really? That's crazy," Edmund responded similarly, containing his urge to throw himself out of the window.

Gossiping with Romilda was the most painful thing he had ever done in his life. Neither memories of starvation nor the aches of the ritual came anywhere close to it. The girl could blabber for hours and was infamous for cornering anyone she could for a 'chat' with her. Edmund had made a big show of the first-year Gryfinndor catching him off-guard in the library and reluctantly engaging with her.

He had come so far in the conversation. He refused to let the nauseating discussion with the air-headed girl be all for nought. Now was his chance. Activating his persuasive powers, he decided to start off easy. "I don't think Harry Potter really likes her, though."

The declaration was more of a test run for Edmund than anything else. Romilda had an unhealthy obsession with the Boy-Who-Lived. She was head over heels for him, and the fact was no secret to anyone who had ever interacted with her. Making the girl believe that Harry had no interest in another woman would be no challenge.

As expected, Romilda scoffed disdainfully at the prospect. "Why would she?" she sniffed cruelly. "She's just a little bitch. Why would he want her when he could have anyone else?"

Edmund grimaced, keeping his movement concealed. Time to step it up.

"Totally. Guys don't like to date those kinds of girls anyways. Showing a little bit of dedication means a lot more than a snog ever could," Edmund consoled the fuming girl.

All the while, he pushed back the bile coming up his throat. The statement was a complete lie. Teenage boys were animals who would pounce on any girl that was willing. Romilda likely knew that too but probably wanted Edmund's words to be true on a deeper level. It was a harder pill for her to swallow, but she did it all the same.

"You think so?" she asked with wide eyes, latching onto his arms with her own like a koala.

'It's for the greater good,' Edmund chanted internally, keeping his legs bolted to the ground forcefully.

Two tables away, a guffaw escaped from Cecilia's lips, who was watching the scene with delight as she barely suppressed her laughter. If she had known that Edmund was there by choice, she undoubtedly would have burst into even greater hysterics.

For once, Edmund was glad for his friends' love to see him in uncomfortable situations. If they had the heart to come and bail him out right when he was finally getting somewhere, he definitely would have cried at all the wasted effort.

"Of course," Edmund proclaimed righteously. "Especially someone like Harry, who needs some more stability in his life. He needs a girl willing to listen to him and talk about his feelings. A girl who can give him something more than a one-night stand. Maybe a girl like you."

Romilda blushed furiously, looking at him with suspicious eyes at his boldness.

Edmund clicked his tongue inside his head. It was far too strong of a push. For all that Romilda may be enamoured by Harry Potter, she was still terribly shy. Her fixation with the Boy-Who-Lived was limited to stalking him from afar. Working up the courage to actually talk to him was something else entirely, let alone to ask him out on a date.

"Stop making fun of me!" she demanded indignantly, her voice trembling with bitterness.

Well... he had already reached the endpoint of the conversation. What was the point of backpedalling now? Focusing strongly on his powers, Edmund pressed onward adamantly. "Why would I be doing that, Romilda? You're a wonderful girl. I'm sure Harry would be happy to have someone like you by his side."

"Really?" she asked softly, but Edmund knew she had already begun to believe it. Miraculously, he had been successful.

Her self-confidence was evolving from a straw hut to an impenetrable stone fort, artificially constructed by Edmund's honeyed words.

'That's better,' Edmund commended himself.

"All you have to do is go up and ask," he tempted her like the devil on her shoulders that he was. "I doubt he'll say no."

Romilda hesitated, and Edmund knew this would be the final hurdle, the greatest obstacle. He needed to convince the girl to go against her instincts, even if it was for something she wanted.

'Almost there,' he thought.

"What's the worst that could happen?" Edmund encouraged. "He'll say no. Better to ask while he's still single and you have a shot than to regret 'what-ifs' for the rest of your life if he ends up being taken before you get a chance."

The nervousness in her eyes vanished. The lines of anger on her forehead were replaced with those of deliberation. The affronted fire in her eyes was slowly substituted with resolve. Her face took on a blank look as Edmund's magic took hold of her before snapping back to normal.

"You're right," she huffed, standing up and straightening out her robes.

'Perfect,' Edmund grinned in his head.

"Good luck!" he wished her before belatedly adding in a request. "Oh, and, Romilda? Would you mind not telling Harry I told you to go talk to him? I don't want him to think I'm setting him up in some way, you know? I just don't want there to be any misunderstandings."

The girl nodded absentmindedly as she left his side. The explanation he had given was a silly one, but it would do for his purposes. Romilda had no occlumency barriers to speak of and was not the brightest of personalities to begin with.

Edmund would need a lot more practice with the ability on more challenging targets: people with strong beliefs, those with mental defences, and those who would be averse to his suggestions because of a dislike of him. But that could wait. For now, this was a good start.

Seeing Romilda confidently march up and sit next to a flustered Harry Potter made Edmund wince.

'Sorry mate,' he mentally apologized. 'It's probably better for you to deal with this than her trying to entrap you with a love potion down the line, though.'

The first-year Gryffindor girl clenched Harry's hands in her own firmly, as the boy twisted around in search of a saviour that would never come.

Edmund looked on with sympathy. 'Or maybe not.'