"Legilimens."
A dense pulsing pressure, like the beginning of a tension headache, began to press in.
She flung out an innocuous memory, to paint the illusion that she was fighting to protect the past, not the future—
"You remind me of Newt, did you know?" Dumbledore mused.
"...because we're Hufflepuffs?"
"No, beacuse you so singularly focus on your chosen fields." Twinkling eyes darkened, "and because of your close friendship with a Slytherin."
She glanced up.
"...Did I ever tell you about Leta Lestrange?"
—shock cut the memory off prematurely. Her thoughts flying apart.
Lestrange. Bellatrix. Dead.
.
.
.
The Cup?!