Prompt: Psychology

A/N: *sobs* I came back to avoid studying for my finals, but couldn't find anything new to read. So here we go, lmao! This little drabble is a Modern + College + Professor!Tom Riddle + Magic AU. And let's admit it. There is something really hot about Tom Riddle as a professor. But unfortunately, my salsa game is not strong in this.

Forgive me, but I'm not very familiar with British universities, so I'm pulling my knowledge of the American universities. Sorry.

Also, it's been a long time since I've written a fanfic and I'm just getting back on the bike now. So it's going to be weird. Very weird.

I.

Morgana College, a selective research university, houses the best and brightest wizards and witches of the age. It's one of the top 10 magical universities in the world and the best one in Britain. Naturally, Hermione Granger couldn't resist continuing her education after completing Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. Her friends, Harry and Ron, were not a single bit shocked.

Molly Weasley, after congratulating on her acceptance to Morgana, asked, "What is your focus, Hermione?" She placed a lovely cake on the dining table and smiled broadly.

Hermione, still clutching her acceptance letter in her pocket, as if she can't quite believe the words on there, choked out, "I think I want to study Occlumency."

Angelina Johnson, a pretty dark-skinned woman and a graduate of Morgana College, reached across the table for salt. She exchanged an unreadable glance with Percy.

Hermione looked between both of them. They both graduated from Morgana College, but there was something there they weren't sure about telling her.

She not-so-discreetly coughed.

After some hesitation and perhaps reluctance as well, Percy casually informed, "I know some witches who wanted to be healers. Occlumency was a small part of the healer's curriculum, but from what I heard, it's very difficult."

Johnson piped in, "It can make or break you. Doesn't help that the Occlumency professor is an expert at Legilimency. But if you want to learn Occlumency, learn from him."

"Who?" she asked.

"Professor Riddle," Percy and Angelina said together.

Clearing his throat, Harry glances up from his plate. "I heard from the Auror Academy that he's really brilliant. He could find any buried memories from any prisoner. Good at Occlumency but far better at Legilimency." He pushes up his glasses.

II.

She does her research on this professor. Little of her information comes from the listing of professor and his nonexistent bio (which only tells her he's been employed for the last six years), but she discovers far more facts and opinions via the word of mouth and the grapevine. "A cold fish," claims her roommate, Jane, who has suffered through one semester with Professor Riddle. Evelyn interjects, "Never took one of his classes before, but when you walk by him, I swear I feel like his eyes knows everything about your life." She tosses a pillow at the wall and covers her face with a textbook the size of a telephone book. "Do you think I can study the entire book before the finals tomorrow?"

Hermione doesn't answer that question. The secret to cracking a 800-page textbook is always to write comprehensive notes containing lecture notes from the professor and what's forgettable. 800 pages can be condensed into 50 or so pages of notes.

She looks to her other roommates. The dooms are similar to Hogwarts with loads of excellent, potential studying places. Chang Yi shakes her head. "Granger, you're crazy if you think you can take two of his classes in one semester. Just one class can drive some poor bloke mad. Introduction to Occlumency 100Hc and Introduction to Legilimency 100Hc. H. C. Honors courses." She waves her wand, and her books neatly fold themselves into a stack upon her mattress. "Honors. Prepare to see a lot of Acceptables, at best."

Hermione blinks. It's very similar in line to what other people say.

"But," adds Jane, nodding solemnly, "survive with an Acceptable and you'll learn a lot." She stares out of the window, as if watching someone walk the plank to the dark seawater below.

III.

When Hermione pulls her black shawl tighter around herself, she already has a picture of Professor Riddle in her mind. She can see him enter the quiet, almost dead classroom with a cane in his hand and wrinkled, dark eyes. He would be quite old, perhaps in his 70s, with a permanent evil smirk. A somewhat older version of Severus Snape, she supposes. A red inkwell would be already in his hand, and his favorite word is "Poor," "Dreadful," and "Troll." These words are perhaps on the very tip of his tongue. She ponders the state of his hair. It's probably messy, as if he hasn't bothered to tame it in the morning. Or. . . maybe he is bald. She can see that. Men do tend to lose their hair in their advanced age.

She looks to the desks next to her. Both empty. No one dares to sit themselves in the front. A silent gaggle of fellow students crowd themselves in the back, as if they can't get far enough from the lecture podium. Normally, classrooms would be filled with chatter before the professors arrive.

This one isn't.

She discreetly checks her pocketwatch. 5:58. About to arrive at any moment in this unholy early morning.

The door opens a minute later. For a second, Hermione thinks this man, this surprisingly youthful, tall man, is a student. An aristocrat like the snobbish Draco Malfoy, who is annoyingly attending Morgana College as well, but with a focus in potions or something along the line. Unlike Malfoy, who wears his money's worth, he chooses to wear a long, thin black coat with leather gloves. His night-black hair is styled carefully, and he sports dragon hide boots. But most unmistakable is his aura. Confidence oozes from him, and Hermione leans forward, entranced.

But it isn't just confidence or the grace or the ease he carries himself with. It's the thrill of power, too. Hermione catches a whiff of it, isolating the source. The more she tries to gauge it, the stronger the particular scent becomes. Overwhelming her senses.

He's no student. He's experienced, older, different from everyone else. Appearances can so deceive the sight but not the truth.

He sets his briefcase on the table next to the podium. Waving his wand at the chalkboard, he writes on the board and says, "I'm Professor Riddle. This is Legilimency 100 Honors. If anyone would like to leave now without a mark on their academic record, they may." His eyes are focused on the board, watching as the chalk writes down the word, HONORS.

A chair creaks, and someone coughs. They leave through the backdoor of the classroom.

The professor turns around.

And everyone holds their breath.

Professor Riddle's murky-colored eyes scrutinize the back of the classroom first. He makes his way to the front, to where Hermione alone sits. She captures his gaze, and she's struck by the piercing, bewitching nature of his very eyes. He looks, she thinks, as if he is viewing my entire soul through a window.

His lips twitches as if amused by a private joke, and suddenly, Hermione stiffens. Legilimency, she hisses to herself. He could hear everything in her mind.

"What is Legilimency?" he suddenly asks, his voice sharp.

Hermione blinks, stunned by the sudden noise. She slowly raises her hand, and he nods curtly. "Legilimency is a branch of magic. Loosely translated as 'mind-reading.'"

He frowns in disapproval, sinking Hermione's heart. "A typical textbook answer at the elementary level. However, this is a college. Morgana College." He glances at Hermione's eyes after a short pause. "Miss Granger."

Waving his hand in emphasis, he lectures, "Legilimency is more than a branch of magic. It is more than mind-reading. I can see that about one-fifth of the class are Muggleborns." He leans against the podium, eyeing everyone. He seems quite fond of the eye contact. "That's four of you, in a class size of twenty. Muggles have a similar science to Legilimency. They call it psychology." A pause. "Psychology is a science, studying the mind and its functions. Your Wizarding textbooks give more general explanations of what Legilimency is, but the definition of psychology applies far more closely to Legilimency."

Unconsciously, Hermione leans forward.

"Legilimency is the study of the mind. An invasion of someone else's mind as you seek to navigate its chaotic nature. The spell is a tool, to help you understand. No two minds are the same. If you ever succeed to find yourself in one of my 400-level classes, you'll discover that not even twins have the same structure or mindset." Turning his back to his class, Professor Riddle reaches deep into his coat for his wand and plants it on the table. All eyes are on him. "Legilimency is an art. But it can also be used as a weapon."

He pivots, and Hermione, by habit or by his will, immediately captures his potent gaze. The homely, warm classroom disappears, breaking off into splinters of wood. She smells something familiar. Like morning dew and dying leaves. The smell of autumn. And does she even smell blood? But she isn't sure.

The world morphs and shifts, and Hermione closes her eyes, shutting out the fast-moving details. A bird chirps to her left, and she blinks. A lovely forest with lush leaves. Butterflies glide on the lazy breeze. Springtime. But it couldn't be. It's still September, isn't it?

It is April. Go and play.

She runs across a leaning tree, slips off her walking boots, and begins to climb the height. Play. It seems like a good idea to Hermione, though she doesn't know why. On her sixth branch, Hermione pauses and watches as a colorful bird swoops in the air and disappears between evergreen leaves. A hummingbird.

Anna's hummingbirds aren't found in Europe. They don't live here.

"It's still September," she realizes. Her chocolate-brown eyes glance at the world. "Lies. All lies."

Truth: It is April.

"It is September," she whispers, holding onto that sentence like a prayer. She shuts her eyes. Her mind is too quiet. It doesn't seem right. She breathes in as she concentrates and thinks about potions. The right ingredients to make Wolfsbane. She goes through it, remembering her hands stirring. Her back suddenly feels too warm, as if someone is watching. She looks. A odd spirit lurks outside of the potion room's doorway.

It's not of her. But it seems familiar. She throws down her stirring rod and runs to the doorway. She checks left. Then right.

No one is there.

She spins around and gasps. Professor Riddle examines her potion. Or rather the memory of her potion. He sticks a stirring rod in the boiling liquid and casually states, "Very acute, Miss Granger. Picking apart the little details that don't add up."

She grinds her teeth. "Let go of my mind." Her hand tightens around the wand in her pocket. She isn't sure what jinx to cast, but she is confident that it would be painful.

"Your focus is in Occlumency," he says, glancing around the Hogwarts potion room. He turns back to Hermione. "You are a poor Occlumen."

Hermione flushes. "I have no intention of being an Occulmen, but I wish to-"

He smirks, as if amused by her intentions. "Miss Granger, one can't study Occlumency without ever being an Occulmen herself. And you can't study Occulmency without studying Legilimency as well. And if you are unwilling to become a Legilimen and a Occulmen, you will not succeed in your focus." He tilts his head, almost as if challenging her. "Unless you want to change your focus? You don't seem willing to be an Occulmen."

She shakes her head, grimacing. "Get out of my mind," she grits. She isn't sure of her sight, but it appears that Professor Riddle moves back forcibly as if hit by an invisible hand. Just a centimeter. He's too strong.

Professor Riddle runs his pianist fingers across the counter. "If you wish to continue your focus, you'll find out that I am your advisor, Miss Granger. Your choice, Miss Granger." He leans against the wall, slowly melting away.

Hermione blinks. One moment, she's trapped in her memories. The next, she's back in the classroom. She gasps, coming out of the water and breathing real air. Like dipping into a pool and rising to the surface.

Professor Riddle cocks his head and smiles. He turns towards the board as some students throw up on their desks or groan with agony. "That was Legilimency at work. Now, for your homework, you must do a little reading."

He smirks evilly.

It's not going to be little. Hermione can tell and quickly rips out her inkwell and quill.

"Psychology for Dummies, Introduction to Psychology: Anniversary Edition, Advanced Legilimency, and Beginners Occlumency. Read all of Psychology for Dummies and pages sixteen to fifty-eight for Intro to Psych. Pages two to thirteen for Advanced Legilimency. And read all of Beginners Occlumency. That would be all for today." A pause. "You may submit your requests to withdraw in two minutes." Though he may keep a straight face, Hermione can tell he's getting a kick out of this. Too much of a kick.

That's how the class shrank from twenty-one to twelve.

Second A/N: I think I might continue this, but I'm not sure. I don't have enough time anywhere in this month or the next. Maybe summer break. I hope.