Post by Kallisto Ophelia Parkinson on Feb 6, 2018 14:06:28 GMT -5
Kallisto Ophelia Parkinson
by Jade
20
age
Female
gender
10/30/1998
birthday
blood status
Purebloodsexual orientation
Fluid--would rate as a 4 on the Kinsey Scale, meaning she is predominantly homosexual, but more than incidentally heterosexual. The witch is extremely comfortable with her sexuality, but does not wildly broadcast her preference for women.
epidemic x status
Immune
occupation
Unspeakable-in-Training
general appearance
The only daughter of Donna Parkinson is both ballerina and artist--the girl looks the part. Her body is a combination of dangerous curves and elegant height. She has a thin, but feminine figure. Kali was uncomfortable in her skin for a long time, but has finally made it threw her awkward phase. She walks with elegance—her head held high, a soft smile ever present on her lips. The face is unique and exquisite. Her thin aristocratic features and delicate nose set off her fair skin. But it is her eyes that are her greatest asset. The kaleidoscope of azure, sapphire, and turquoise can sell any lie. Her gaze is her sword and her sweet smile her shield in this war of deceit.
former school
Hogwartsformer house
Slytherinachievements
Head Girl
6th Prefect
5th Prefect
Quidditch Captain
Seeker
6th Prefect
5th Prefect
Quidditch Captain
Seeker
university
University of Bangor | Lufkin University
university major(s)
Potionology | Spell Invention
years attended
2017-2021
skills
*Academically inclined: excels in Transfiguration, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes and Potions *Ballet
*Natural flyer *Leadership skills *INTP Natural personality, but ENTJ Inducible personality *Artistic
*Natural flyer *Leadership skills *INTP Natural personality, but ENTJ Inducible personality *Artistic
weaknesses
*Shitty teamwork *Liar and manipulator *Insomniac *Gemini: INTP battling ENTJ
*Bitter about life post Voldemort's death for pureblood families
*Bitter about life post Voldemort's death for pureblood families
positive traits
Kali is an artist of the Parkinson line. She has a great eye for beauty and is very creative. She is an opportunist, willing to take what comes her way and make the best of it. She is committed to seeing things through once she has started something. She is intelligent and seeks out some independence, but is still reliant on her family. She is quite intuitive and picks up on other’s emotions easily. Kallisto works to harness her abundant energy constructively. She believes in propriety in public life. The purebloods have their rules of etiquette. It allows for elevated respectability, even if at times it may be seen as backwards. is known for her eloquence and sarcasm. Always ready with her sharp tongue, she can be a bit cruel at times. While she always observes social norms and maintains politically correct behavior, she has significant blood status prejudices built up by her family. Kali is defined by her extreme determination and strength of will. She is not the type that can be pushed around, but she will willingly and loyally follow a leader she trusts— She values material things and physical possessions--and will do everything in her power to maintain the financial security her family has. Accustomed to the language, she does not even notice pureblood prejudice; that is simply common place for her. Always appearing the perfect pureblood female to those who know her in passing, Kallisto is always respectful and subservient to her elders.
negative traits
Kallisto is rather short-tempered and has no patience. A classic know-it-all, her tendency to correct others and general elitist attitude serve as a considerable barrier to building lasting friendships. She would much prefer a potions laboratory to a room full of people. To those she hates, she is not above vindictiveness and deliberate cruelty, but that does not dominate her personality. Kali is very head strong and do not accept change well. On occasion referred to as a bit greedy, Kallisto can be a bit self-indulgent. On rare occasions, Kallisto may be exasperatingly and obstinately self-righteous. The behavior is linked to interactions with lesser beings. She lives for beauty—recoiling from anything sordid or ugly.
hobbies/interests
From the time she could hold a brush in her hand, she has been painting. Kali possesses a wealth of natural artistic talents. Potions are a passion--she delights in experimentation, both innocent and horrendous. Fashion has a special place in the witch's heart...as does most of the finer things in life. Wealth matters-
accomplishments
Top of the Unspeakable training program
character history
Kallisto was born to a young unwed pureblood witch. But she doesn't know that--she believes her mother to be her sister and her grandparents to be her parents. It is the lie she has been told since birth and what has been presented to the public as the truth. No one knew Donna had ever been pregnant. The Parkinsons wanted their daughter to still have decent marriage chances--a child out of wedlock would ruin any hope of Donna having the life and marriage she deserved. So--the babe was declared a little accident.
Kallisto was meant to be a twin, but her other half died in the womb very early on in Donna's pregnancy. Donna never knew of the other child. But somehow Kali always knew. Kali found out the truth from the healer who had treated her mother when she encountered the woman in Knockturn Alley on the eve of her eleventh birthday. The person she believed was her sister, but really was her mother was acquiring some potions when Kallisto approached an old woman in a back aisle. The woman recognized her, somehow, and said that she knew why the girl had come. The other half of her...the part that was lost. Kali keeps the old woman's secret...Her secret, guarding the knowledge as something precious. The conversations she has in her head and the divergence in personality she is able to achieve leads the girl to believe that a part of the other being who she shared a womb with lives in in her. No one else knows of her opinion on this matter.
Though the Dark Lord was dead before she was born, as a child, the witch still saw the shift in public perception and treatment of those who had the most prestigious magical heritages. Well—for some—what once was a mark of pride and guarantee of at least some respect from magical establishments became a mark of shame and a catalyst for mistreatment. Her last name went from being capable of opening doors for her to become a hurdle the girl was going to have to overcome to achieve greatness.
Some of her father's bitterness has been passed on to the girl. She hears his stories of how it used to be—about the life he had once had. She sees how society treats those that once were esteemed—The girl was driven to do whatever to regain the wealth, security, and respect that once was associated with purist lines. Kali does believe that those of magical heritage are superior, but that is only part it. She also understands and appreciates that muggles are capable of great and terrible things. Her father's hate became her hate. The purists of old failure became her reason to succeed.
The girl is a bit of a budding environmentalist. Her negative opinion of muggles is rooted in that. She sees the destruction that the non-magical have brought to this world in their feeble attempts to recreate magic. How much more can the world endure? What can be done anyway? The muggle population is so much larger than the magical—that scares her, knowing the limited amount that she does about historical treatment of the magical and the slivers of knowledge she gains about scientific experimentation by muggle scientists. The girl only recently learned exploring historical texts in the Hogwarts library of the atrocities that Nazi scientists perpetrated against a subsect of their population. What she has managed to learn through her various research endeavors of the non-magical world makes her question why the magical do not do more to protect themselves and ensure the stability and longevity of their way of life.
She wants what she believes she deserves--her familial heritage--what was stolen away from her father—she has witnessed the cost of his allegiance to Voldemort. While the girl never went hungry or truly did without, she has seen what Voldemort’s defeat has done to a man who was once strong and proud. She sees how that even still her father’s pride is daily eroded away. Each time he loses another job or is mistreated by someone in public due to his history, her bitterness and resentment grows. Her own pride is built up, even as her father is degraded—her drive is fueled by his loss of self-worth. His hate becomes her hate. His failure is her reason to succeed.
In her years at school, Kallisto faced prejudice and hatred from the lessers. This never eroded her sense of self or her inherent elitism. Sure, her father was in the work camp. Sure, their life was a struggle, but she was stronger for it. She was fiercer for it. She was colder and more wicked for it. And then---all was set right. The Death Eaters rose and struck down the liars, cheats, and thieves that had held such a tyrannical reign over the wizarding world. Her family was party to this. Now, Donna has risen to head the new school for the Muggleborns.
Her seventh year there was great variability and change that came to Hogwarts. Though she was Head Girl and had great success with her internship at Witch Weekly, the girl found the academic mediocrity of her peers boring. When the opportunity came for her to graduate in December, she took it. She had well exceeded her minimum requirements for exiting the school. During her time at the school, Kallisto had even trained to become an animagus under the once Transfiguration Professor, Damion Kvothe. Mastery of the animagus transition eluded her until after leaving the school, but early in the spring, the witch achieved the grand transformation.
Kallisto is quite fond of Donna. They share the love of fashion--and breaks for as long as Kallisto can remember from school have been spent with her sister. She worked in shop--and was most proud that despite the prejudice and mistreatment their people received that Donna was still able to rise up, to build something of her own. With the change in the political realm, it is all the easier for Kali to do this.
Myles died in November of 2017. This event hit Kali very hard. It fueled her growing resentment against those who had persecuted the pure. She blames Durant and any that stood with the late Minister for the Parkinson patriarch's demise. She believes the work camp sent him to an early grave. Change has come, but her need for revenge and retribution has not been sated.
Kallisto was meant to be a twin, but her other half died in the womb very early on in Donna's pregnancy. Donna never knew of the other child. But somehow Kali always knew. Kali found out the truth from the healer who had treated her mother when she encountered the woman in Knockturn Alley on the eve of her eleventh birthday. The person she believed was her sister, but really was her mother was acquiring some potions when Kallisto approached an old woman in a back aisle. The woman recognized her, somehow, and said that she knew why the girl had come. The other half of her...the part that was lost. Kali keeps the old woman's secret...Her secret, guarding the knowledge as something precious. The conversations she has in her head and the divergence in personality she is able to achieve leads the girl to believe that a part of the other being who she shared a womb with lives in in her. No one else knows of her opinion on this matter.
Though the Dark Lord was dead before she was born, as a child, the witch still saw the shift in public perception and treatment of those who had the most prestigious magical heritages. Well—for some—what once was a mark of pride and guarantee of at least some respect from magical establishments became a mark of shame and a catalyst for mistreatment. Her last name went from being capable of opening doors for her to become a hurdle the girl was going to have to overcome to achieve greatness.
Some of her father's bitterness has been passed on to the girl. She hears his stories of how it used to be—about the life he had once had. She sees how society treats those that once were esteemed—The girl was driven to do whatever to regain the wealth, security, and respect that once was associated with purist lines. Kali does believe that those of magical heritage are superior, but that is only part it. She also understands and appreciates that muggles are capable of great and terrible things. Her father's hate became her hate. The purists of old failure became her reason to succeed.
The girl is a bit of a budding environmentalist. Her negative opinion of muggles is rooted in that. She sees the destruction that the non-magical have brought to this world in their feeble attempts to recreate magic. How much more can the world endure? What can be done anyway? The muggle population is so much larger than the magical—that scares her, knowing the limited amount that she does about historical treatment of the magical and the slivers of knowledge she gains about scientific experimentation by muggle scientists. The girl only recently learned exploring historical texts in the Hogwarts library of the atrocities that Nazi scientists perpetrated against a subsect of their population. What she has managed to learn through her various research endeavors of the non-magical world makes her question why the magical do not do more to protect themselves and ensure the stability and longevity of their way of life.
She wants what she believes she deserves--her familial heritage--what was stolen away from her father—she has witnessed the cost of his allegiance to Voldemort. While the girl never went hungry or truly did without, she has seen what Voldemort’s defeat has done to a man who was once strong and proud. She sees how that even still her father’s pride is daily eroded away. Each time he loses another job or is mistreated by someone in public due to his history, her bitterness and resentment grows. Her own pride is built up, even as her father is degraded—her drive is fueled by his loss of self-worth. His hate becomes her hate. His failure is her reason to succeed.
In her years at school, Kallisto faced prejudice and hatred from the lessers. This never eroded her sense of self or her inherent elitism. Sure, her father was in the work camp. Sure, their life was a struggle, but she was stronger for it. She was fiercer for it. She was colder and more wicked for it. And then---all was set right. The Death Eaters rose and struck down the liars, cheats, and thieves that had held such a tyrannical reign over the wizarding world. Her family was party to this. Now, Donna has risen to head the new school for the Muggleborns.
Her seventh year there was great variability and change that came to Hogwarts. Though she was Head Girl and had great success with her internship at Witch Weekly, the girl found the academic mediocrity of her peers boring. When the opportunity came for her to graduate in December, she took it. She had well exceeded her minimum requirements for exiting the school. During her time at the school, Kallisto had even trained to become an animagus under the once Transfiguration Professor, Damion Kvothe. Mastery of the animagus transition eluded her until after leaving the school, but early in the spring, the witch achieved the grand transformation.
Kallisto is quite fond of Donna. They share the love of fashion--and breaks for as long as Kallisto can remember from school have been spent with her sister. She worked in shop--and was most proud that despite the prejudice and mistreatment their people received that Donna was still able to rise up, to build something of her own. With the change in the political realm, it is all the easier for Kali to do this.
Myles died in November of 2017. This event hit Kali very hard. It fueled her growing resentment against those who had persecuted the pure. She blames Durant and any that stood with the late Minister for the Parkinson patriarch's demise. She believes the work camp sent him to an early grave. Change has come, but her need for revenge and retribution has not been sated.
parents
Gregory Goyle & Donna Kallis Parkinson are her biological parents, but she was raised to believe her maternal grandparents Myles Parkinson and Tara Vane-Parkinson were her parents.
siblings
Donna, Sienna, Van, and Michael
children
None.
partner
Philip Mountbatten
other family
Gregory Goyle - Biological Father
family history
The Goyle family origins can be traced near the close of the Middle Ages. The Goyle's origins are riddled with politics, dark arts, and Purist sentiments. The house's founder, Gregorus Goyle was a man obsessed with gaining political power, which he eventually achieved through use of the dark arts, bribes, blackmail, and other disreputable acts. The family's motto is "Supra Omnem Potentiam," Power Above All. While the house is old, it is not usually recognized as among the oldest in Britain, despite many of its member's groans, protests, and assurances that they are, in fact, one of the first houses. Its members are usually sorted into Slytherin, and they have held high-standing positions within the British magical community, and have also had disreputable practitioners of the dark arts who achieved varying levels of infamy. Much the same--the Parkinson Family is one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, and are known for purist sentiments. They, too, are frequently sorted into Slytherin at Hogwarts. The third Minister for magic was Perseus Parkinson.*
Copied shamelessly from Donna's app:
Myles Parkinson born the eldest son, he was set into an arranged marriage from the moment that he could crawl. He and Tara were best friends, and when they started school it was only natural that they start dating. It was only right in their minds. They loved each other. Finish school they were married immediately after Myles became a marked Death Eater.
Shortly after they married Tara found herself pregnant and a girl was born. Donna, then two years later Sienna, a few years later Van and then Michael were born. However, their little happy bubble popped when Myles was sent to the work camp. It was so very difficult for them all, he almost died more than once. Tara had to step up to the plate and be everything to everyone. She hated it, but things got way better when the Death Eaters took thing over.
After Donna graduated Hogwarts, an incident occurred...one that left her with child. The man who had knocked her up was swept off to Azkaban in no position to marry the witch. For the sake of the girl's reputation, she was sent to France to 'study design'. Tara used charms to appear pregnant in this time. When the time for Kallisto to be born drew nigh, Tara joined Donna in France and Kallisto was born there. She was brought back to England as Tara's child.
Copied shamelessly from Donna's app:
Myles Parkinson born the eldest son, he was set into an arranged marriage from the moment that he could crawl. He and Tara were best friends, and when they started school it was only natural that they start dating. It was only right in their minds. They loved each other. Finish school they were married immediately after Myles became a marked Death Eater.
Shortly after they married Tara found herself pregnant and a girl was born. Donna, then two years later Sienna, a few years later Van and then Michael were born. However, their little happy bubble popped when Myles was sent to the work camp. It was so very difficult for them all, he almost died more than once. Tara had to step up to the plate and be everything to everyone. She hated it, but things got way better when the Death Eaters took thing over.
After Donna graduated Hogwarts, an incident occurred...one that left her with child. The man who had knocked her up was swept off to Azkaban in no position to marry the witch. For the sake of the girl's reputation, she was sent to France to 'study design'. Tara used charms to appear pregnant in this time. When the time for Kallisto to be born drew nigh, Tara joined Donna in France and Kallisto was born there. She was brought back to England as Tara's child.
other
Insomniac, hardcore perfectionist, anti-social but very capable of being charming--i.e. she CAN talk to people, she'd just rather not...unless it's a means to an end.
face claim
Kaya Scodelariostatus of application
completehave you read the rules?
Yes.how did you hear about us?
Morgan
roleplay sample
Kallisto was on a mission--she was tired of being confined to the tradition academic curriculum that catered to the many instead of being specialized to the individual. That was why she was ascending from the dungeons today. She was seeking a private audience with the the young Transfiguration professor.
After studying under several private tutors, but not actually finding one that could be available during the school year to her, she decided to simply reach out to the Hogwarts Transfiguration Master. The girl had been honing her Transfigurative skill since even before coming to the school--and had perfected her OWL, beginning to study NEWT material even before that fifth year exam. The vast majority of her training and instruction had come from private tutors, few of who were skilled in the art of teaching, even though they were skilled in the magic of Transfiguration. Though Transfiguration Master @damionkvothe was young, his animagus abilities made him perfectly suited for the task she had in her mind.
A short rap of her knuckles against the doorframe announced her arrival. "Professor," she greeted with a flash of her pearly whites as she stepped forward into the classroom. "Pardon my intrusion, but do you have a moment to spare? I had hoped to speak with you," the Parkinson explained.
--
The young professor had been singing to himself when she entered, but the standards of decorum that had been ingrained into her mind kept the witch from allowing any hint that she heard a sound to be reflected on her face. The man before her was so young---only a few years her elder. But how long had he been a master of Transfiguration? Some time surely as he was already a Professor of the magic---if he had managed the animagus mastery, there was no reason she could not do the same.
His demeanor was so casual. How odd it was--how a casual slouch could both put her at ease while making her feel a touch uncomfortable. Her family was so rigid. Rules for everything--constraints and expectations. Some moments she existed only because of those rules, and others--she ran from them with all she had, throwing off the purist, oppressive, old-fashioned nonsense, embracing the feminist streak that was allowing strong women to rise in this modern time.
"Wonderful, thank you-" the witch said politely. Meticulously manicured nails ran down the front of her robes, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from the fabric. Her family had suffered with the purist prejudice the current Minister was know for, but Arista did all she could to keep up appearances that all was well for the family, which meant tailored robes for Kali, made from only the finest of fabric. As the professor had chosen to sit, she opted to do the same, not wishing to visibly fidget, but being well aware of her difficulties with maintaining perfect stillness--something she was often chastised for at home.
The girl gracefully settled into a desk chair diagonal across from the desk Professor Kvothe had perched upon--facing him, of course. "I've come to make a request. I must admit I do not know if it quite proper to come to you directly--or what the official process for making this request should be, but I believe myself quite capable with Transfiguration. Capable enough to achieve an animagus form, with the proper instruction..." A slight pause came there--and the witch looked down at her hands. Her canine pulled her plump pout under its assault; the white point brightening the red of her lip until she dropped any attempt at leading up to the request and simply plainly declared: "What I am trying to ask--is would you train me?"
--
The professor seemed quite startled by her request, which was to be expected. It was not every day that a student came to him requesting the opportunity to master Transfiguration in such a way. Few would be willing to ask and even fewer would be willing to put forth the effort necessary to realize said request. But Kallisto Parkinson was not most students. She prided herself on the fact. She did not want to be like other teenage girls--- gossip bored her. Fashion and beauty were life, but the vast majority of the girls in the castle were fake in their interest in such things. They could not tell Valentino from Versace and had never heard of Hermes, despite the brand having been around for nearly two hundred years.
She gave a polite nod and smile at his first words--yes, it was a big request. Kallisto braced herself for an outright refusal, because really why would the man put forth the extra effort beyond the minimum requirements of his job? The pessimistic harsh voice in her head was having a heyday ripping apart her hopes, but the witch did her best to ignore it. Kali was well practiced by now at this--
Damion transformed himself before her and her stomach cinched at the sigh of his beautiful animagus form--a panther, statuesque and captivating with its bright orange eyes Cats, especially big cats, were so elegant. Not letting herself get caught up in the aesthetics of his transformation, the witch cleared her mind of her artistic musings and focused only on the words the young professor had formed into a question.
"I quite understand that some Masters of Transfiguration never manage an animagus form---and personally, I find it debatable that anyone could assert and support the notion that they actually need to achieve an animagus form. But I am not here simply because I was bored and wanted a new hobby. I am pursuing several avenues to clarify for myself what sort of future I want to have after Hogwarts." Her internship at Witch Weekly and her leadership positions at Hogwarts and within Slytherin served as examples of her efforts to find a clear direction for her life.
"Coming to you today was a step on one of those paths, if I prove myself capable of animagi Transfiguration, that would serve as a significant justification to continue to pursue more knowledge in this field of magic after graduation--even so far as perhaps a career. I have always had a proclivity for this field--and enjoyed it, but there are so few career opportunities with Transfiguration and I am such a perfectionist that I need to know whether or not I can be one of the best." She was not ashamed of her arrogance or opinion, but was most polite in her speech and diction as she presented it to the wizard. Kallisto did not wish to come across as cocky, only confident and grounded.
--
Kallisto could not explain fully to the professor her motivations. SHe was not even sure she could even articulate them completely to herself. The need for an animagus form as it related to her mother's business could not be shared with the professor. Obviously, no one in his position would faciliate the girl's involvement in criminal activity. But he seemed to accept the answer she gave. He did not know her well. He did not know her strength of will and determination--how single minded she could get when in pursuit of an objective. It was exceptionally easy for the girl to go down the rabbit hole with one of her obsessions. Such had happened many times.
She did not shrink back or lose any visible confidence as his eyes weighed on her. Kallisto was not intimidate or nervous. She could have played such, if she thought it would further her agenda, but she didn't believe that was the case.
Did the why matter so much that her answer could result in his refusal of her request? And so what if he did? She would just go on and find someone else to facilitate this. She'd already conned a certain man into hiring a number of Transfiguration tutors over the years. She could continue that path; with her internship at Witch Weekly, she was able to leave the castle. She could add in a few lessons here and there with an external tutor should Damion refuse her.
He gave her a boyish grin as he consented to the request--and she was again reminded of his youth. So young...and yet a professor at Hogwarts. It made her wonder if the pay was unspeakably low and that's why there were so many young faces now standing behind teachers' podiums at the institution.
The man fired off a round of questions, earning an arched brow from the witch. His tone and expression did not match--and while the questions seemed tedious, there was something about his demeanour that made him seem somewhat excited about this proposition. "I tolerate unpleasantness as well as anyone, I suspect," she offered in response to his first question. "As of dedication, concentration, and patience, I assure you, I will not disappoint on any front. I am quite tenacious and well aware of the time investment that this endeavour with require."
Damion was moving away from her. So, she rose and followed. The man gave her more warning, his voice soft and thoughtful as he produced a more comfortable chair in front of his desk for her. The witch sat, giving him a small smile. "I am aware. I know all that can be learned about the transformation that can be learned from books--at least, the books I could find in the library here and from academic literary dealers. My father procured a number of rare texts for me about the magic with the promise from me that I would not attempt it on my own. Beyond his worries, I understand the need for a guide--and acknowledge that the written word can be misinterpreted, particularly when dealing with tricky translations...So, I appreciate your mentoring me through this journey."
--
Kallisto was most pleased with how this little impromptu meeting had played out. The young professor before her seemed accepting of the reasons she gave--which was relieving. She had tried to best present her justifications in such a light that would encourage his assistance. As Damion pulled a mishapen leaf from his desk drawer, her eyes widened. The witch knew the frond on sight, though this was the first time she had actually seen a leaf not attached to a live mandrake or in an illustration. Kallisto pushed the memory of her unfortunate herbology incident with the young mandrakes some years before from her mind. She always seemed to get the short end of the stick in Herbology---hyper sensitivity to the mandrake screams, extreme allergy to devil's snare, just a lot of badness seemed to happen to her in the greenhouse. She only kept with the class because of potioneering--if she wanted to really expand her cauldron experiments, she needed to be able to manage at least some ingredients herself. Too many of the more interesting additives needed to be fresh and weren't easily acquired, even by someone like her mother.
But back to the leaf---she was aware of all that Damion had said about it. The horrid taste was not something she looked forward to--no more than she was looking forward to keeping anything no matter the taste in her mouth of a whole bloody month... but this step was, in her opinion, surely the easiest that she had read about. If she couldn't manage keeping a leaf under her tongue for a month, then she was not nearly the dedicated and determined witch she believed herself to be.
"Do you recommend a sticking charm to hold it in place? Or perhaps some other magic?" she asked. The witch did not imagine that she was just supposed to stick it in her mouth without anything to keep it in place. Otherwise, wouldn't she just swallow or spit it out in her sleep?
Next, Damion launched into a set of rules--or guidelines--or points. It was hard tell which, really. But she listened all the same. The witch was well aware that there was no way to choose her form, which she regarded as unfortunate, but had accepted. The witch did have her hope, of course, but she kept that particularly longing very closely guarded. To demonstrate both her understanding of his words and convey that she was actively listening, she nodded her understanding when such a reaction was appropriate.
The witch kept her disapproval of the idea of registering with the Ministry from her face. That perfect practiced purist smile never faltering--grandmother would have been so proud. "Of course," she interjected after that point, her voice soft and nonintrusive.
She tilted her head slightly at his comment about questions. Was he referring to questions she might ask? Or would he posing them to her? Either way, she had no objection to this. Worst case, if he asked her something she was unwilling to answer, she was quite adept at the art of lying. It had been a talent both inherited from and taught to her by the elder Parkinson women.
The witch's smile grew when the man forbade her from training another in this art, at least while she was his apprentice. Of all the things that Damion might have to worry about when it came to what Kallisto might do with the magic he was teaching her, sharing it was not something he needed to concern himself about in the least. She would not be teaching anyone else. The witch could not even think of someone that she considered both capable of the magic and tolerable enough to spend such an extended amount of time with. "I have no interest in training another. You needn't worry about that. I do not find that I have a teacher's spirit."
Damion placed the leaf between them, an offering to her. She looked at it for a moment as he spoke. There were hints of excitement on her aristocratic features--she could have masked them, but she didn't. Why not let the man see her true eagerness? There was no reason to gaurd that from him. It was nice, too, to smile and it be sincere. Faking did grow tiresome, even for someone born and bred for such a masquerade. "Thank you, I'll return to you tomorrow then," the witch said as she picked up the leaf. Rising from her seat, she bowed her head to Damion. Grinning like he was, feet propped on his desk, his youth seemed to radiate of him. She flashed him her most dazzling smile and departed.
Though she did miss as many meals as she attended, Kallisto was present for that day's evening meal. The witch ate more than she would usually--indulging on only her favorites, knowing that soon, all food would be tainted by a distinct unpleasantness. She did not loiter in the dining hall, but retired to the girl's dormitory straight away.
Placing the mandrake leaf was not particularly easy, but after several minor readjustments, she had it where she thought it would best fit. The taste hadn't hit her suddenly, perhaps having her mouth open while she positioned the leaf kept its full force from hitting her all at once. But then it came--and Merlin! was it foul.
By the next morning, she was convinced this was going to be the longest month of her life. Gross-gross-gross... But at least her hygenie routines were completely magical--so, cleaning her teeth was done by charm instead of one of those ridiculious tiny brushes that some of the other girls used. She imagined that was what the professor had been eluding to when he said brushing her teeth would be difficult. He obviously wasn't from an old family--not that she hadn't already known that from his last name. But whatever--regardless of his heritage and whether or not his magical capacity had been stolen from those who deserved it, she would learn from him. She could take back a sliver of what had been ripped away from the purists by gaining this expertise. It was her birthright.
She had classes in the morning--and was fairly certain the same was true for the Transfiguration professor. Rounds during the free period in the afternoon meant the witch was not able to return to Damion until about an hour before dinner was to be served.
The witch entered the classroom, finding the man not so different than she had left him. "I have managed a day with the leaf," she announced, the frond's presence in her mouth gave her the smallest of lisps. She had practiced talking to herself for a long while the night before trying to master it, but had little success. As such, these words to Damion were the most she had said all day. The normally active participator in classes had not raised her hand once to respond to questions. She did not want to draw attention to the fact that she was attempting this mastery. It was her business not anyone else's.
--
Kallisto had employed the sticking charm, believing it would be easier to manage the leaf in her mouth for so long if the thing was rooted in place. It still felt so weird, though...and made her mouth produce more saliva than usual. It felt like like she was swallowing every few seconds.
The purist took the seat the young professor gestured to. Her motions carried their usual gracefulness and she sat tall, perched on the edge of the seat. She carried herself as a lady should--as Arista had taught her to.
She smiled warmly at the man as he inquired about her progress and struggle. A shake of her head rustled her mane of dark curls and she said: "No, no problems."
Her smile grew a bit as Damion congratulated her on having the first day nearly conquered. "Thank you. Yes, I am still quite sure that I'll be able to endure the month." The witch assured the man. At his comment on the taste, the Slytherin laughed and wrinkled her nose. "Oh sweet Merlin, yes!" The taste really was foul and eating or drinking did nothing to remove or lessen its unpleasantness. If anything, the leaf seemed capable of dominating even the most bold of flavors. Coffee could not compete. Perhaps the professor would have some recommendations for what to eat or what to avoid. "The taste is so strong and persistent. Nothing I drank or ate today was able to compete at all. Were there any foods you favored for your month?"
--
Kallisto smiled politely at the professor as he answered her question. She had not expected there would be anything that would be particularly enjoyable to eat this next month, but it was nice to have some suggestions of what not to eat.
"Thank you, I'll give that a shot," she commented as to the garlic and lemon. Perhaps a rather bitter tea with a heavy dose of lemon would be her evening drink.
"Is this an acceptable time? You told me to come by today, but you seem rather busy, should I come back later or tomorrow?" The witch inquired. She did not want to inconvenience the man who was helping her.
--
Kallisto had quite the habit to skip meals--that could partially be blamed on being busy, but also on nagging commentary in her head always keeping her slightly on edge about gaining weight. But she could make a point to make it to the Great Hall at least twice a day for this month. She did not want to give the professor any reason to change his mind about training her. "Okay. I'll make an effort to make meal times." Her sentence was delivered with perfect politeness and a soft smile. Her grandmother would have been so proud.
As Professor Kvothe spoke, she nodded along to indicate she was both paying attention and internalizing what the man had to say. She was quite comfortable with nonverbal magic, and had been actively practicing nonverbal advanced transfigurations for over a year, but had little wandless experience--beyond closing the curtains from her bed or summoning small items, she had always simply defaulted to the use of her conduit. "Thank you," Kali said softly as she took the book from the professor. She could hardly wait to devour the text, but her manners kept her from diving into it immediately. Her attention stayed on the wizard. She was visibly excited and happy, but also clearly in full control of her person and her display of emotion, which kept her demonstrations of her feelings muted.
"I'll begin looking over this, this evening--and seek you out in the morrow should I have any pressing questions." Kallisto flashed Damion a dazzling smile and gave a small bow to the man. The witch spoke a small bit more excusing herself and offering her thanks again before leaving the room. She would make quick work of the book and the ones following it.
Each volume she would keep for three to four days at most. Though the witch was very busy with many classes, her internship, and Quidditch, she found several hours each day to dedicate to her pursuit of the Transfiguration mastery. It meant she was neglecting her paintbrush, but that trade off was well worth it, at least for the short term. Kali was sleeping very little these days, too, which gave her time to allot to the extra work--her insomnia could only be conquered with strong potions taking every day and she hated them--the damper they put on her mind and body the day after was not enough to merit their use. She took them only once or twice a week--that seemed to be enough to keep her from suffering total exhaustion with minimal side effects from the treatment. It was a balancing act to manage both the treatment and the disease to allow her the best and most productive life possible.
-----
Kallisto had done it! She had made it the full month--and with only one leaf, too! The sticking charm had been the key to keeping the leaf both in place and intact. After a full month of the distinctly unpleasant taste in her mouth, some might have expected that it would fade or loose some its intensity. It didn't and it hadn't. If anything, the taste had gotten worse the longer that time passed. It was foul and she was delighted to be done with it.
All smiles the Slytherin bounced towards the Transfiguration room. Her previous visits she had been prim and wholly ladylike, but today, some of her excitement and pride were seeping through the demure mask her grandmother had taught her to always maintain. The Parkinson had not removed the leaf, not yet. She wanted her professor's approval before doing so.
"Professor," she called as she stepped into the empty classroom. "It's been a month." Kallisto declared to Kvothe . Though the taste had grown stronger, the lisp she had been plagued with early in the time period had been conquered nearly completely--so her speech was clear and easy to understand as her soprano projected over the open space.
--
The professor gave her his attention as she approached his desk. The witch carried herself as a true lady--with the grace and lithe body of a ballerina, Kallisto exhibited all the traits Arista had groomed her to display. The indoctrination of etiquette and propriety dictated the way the pureblood interacted with society and the public. So, despite Damion Kvothe being only a handful of years older than her, she treated the man with great respect--not out of inherent respect for him, (as truly she was in no position to determine if the man was worthy of her respect,) but out of respect for his position. To be a professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was a great honor.
At his joshing, Kallisto let out a ring of musical laughter. The sound was lovely, but the most observant of listeners could pick up on the shadow of sadness and anger than lingered at the edges of audible representation of amusement. "I doubt any have enjoyed the mandrake, sir," she answered, a slight bow of deference came with words. While her tone was leaning towards formal, the twinkle in the Slytherin's azure eyes matched the playfulness of Kvothe's cheeky comment.
When the Transfiguration Master gestured to a seat, a single nod accepted the offer. Kallisto's motions had a way of catching the eye--all were mimicking the woman who had raised her. Somehow her body seemed to be both stiff and fluid. There was a effortless refinement to each step and even how she lowered herself into the seat, but her back was always straight--her shoulders back--her head held high--eyes forward--smile never faltering. She was both the marble statue and a living being.
A slight widening of her smile and another nod of her head were the Parkinson's silent response to Kvothe's offer of congratulations. Kali was proud of enduring the first trial, but had no misconceptions about how far she still had to go in pursuit of her animagus form. The journey would be long and fraught with challenges to tax and try both her skill and resolve. Talk turned to the last text she had received from the man as she smoothed non-existent wrinkles from her skirt. Though every article of clothing on her body conformed to the uniform requirements of the school, her ensemble was proof that not even standardized uniforms could truly set all students to equal. As materialistic as the Parkinson women before her--and with her interest in fashion and position at Witch Weekly--even her uniforms were bespoke, perfectly tailored for her and made of only the finest cloth. Only the best for Perseus's princess of the apocalypse.
"I am," Kallisto promised in response to the man's inquiry. "The wandless exercises have been fascinating and most challenging. The water conjuration and phase shift has been my focus." She found the example to be a most brilliant way to exhibit controlled change and by being able maintain multiple spells at once, she was growing her overall magical capacity as was required to perform wandless, nonverbal full transformation of her person. "I would be happy to demonstrate my current progress." The witch cupped her hands together in front of her and for the first time since entering the room, her attention left the professor and focused in the void of space above her palms. "Aguamenti," Kali whispered. Slowly a sphere of water grew into being floating a few inches above her hands. The next spell the witch cast, she achieved non-verbally. Phase shifting had always come easier to her than conjuration, though due to Perseus's commitment to her mastery of the latter in pursuit of fiendfyre, she had grown adept at both. The ice froze and rose slightly higher from her hands. This was where things got extra complicated. The goal was to conjure fire beneath the ice, while maintaining the spherical shape by maintaining control over the positions of the water molecules. The exercise in the week she had been practicing it had expanded her ability to focus considerably.
A long preparatory breath was drawn in through her nose. Her eyes were fixated in front of her. She had not even glanced the professor's way since beginning her demonstration. "Incendio Tria," was the husky incantation commanded from her tongue. Blue flames burst into being beneath the frozen sphere, tips as vibrant as her eyes licked around the icy surface, rising up to engulf the ball. Kallisto felt the first drops of water hit her palms and frowned, but she did not let the imperfection of her attempt to cause her to abandon the effort. She ignored the few dozen splatters that came against her skin over the ten or so seconds that the fire engulfed her conjured water. Barely visible curls of steam rose up, escaping her magic, enough time had passed-- "Evanesco," she thought in her mind, commanding the fire into a state of non-being. When the flames died out, floating before her was a ball of liquid water. Her execution still was not perfect, but she had come quite a long way in the six hours she had spent practicing outside on the balcony last night after her rounds.. The double conjuration had not been a problem for her, but keeping full control of the fire and the water had provided to be extremely difficult. It wasn't just her conjuration or phase shifting transfiguration skills that were being tested and strengthened by this activity. Vanishment was required to get rid of the flames before the water evaporated away. Even transformative transfiguration had a place in this series of spells, as she used transformative magic to force the liquid water to shape itself into a ball.
Another nonverbal casting of the vanishing spell and the water disappeared from view. The twenty or so droplets that had found their way onto her palms earned a distinct frown from the witch as she brushed her hands together a few times until the water was gone.
She had wanted so desperately to master the exercise before her visit to Kvothe today. When she had began the night before, she had not been able to keep the water from melting into a puddle once she conjured the fire. It had been hours of practice until she had managed to keep the majority of the liquid contained. But hopefully, Kvothe would not be disappointed with her progress. When he had provided her the first text for her study, the witch had hoped to manage two or three volumes per week. However, with her enormous course load (everything offered in the castle save Muggle Studies), extracurricular obligations, prefect duties, Witch Weekly internship, and overwhelming desire to shag Finn, even being an insomniac who slept a handful of hours per week did not give her enough time for that rate of progress. She had settled into a solid rate though; always managing, thus far, to exhaust the contents of whatever the professor provided her within a week. This book had been far more interesting than the ones before it, in her opinion. But, perhaps, she felt this way because the progress it brought her was just more easy to observe...
--
If there was a commonality between herself and the young professor, beyond some inherent proclivities for Transfiguration, the witch was not aware of them. His last name was not particularly familiar to her. She knew not of his father despite whatever business he and Myles had in the past--or any similarities their upbringings might have shared. Kallisto had allowed--and even embraced--the lessons the Parkinsons had instilled in her shaping who she appeared to the world. Unlike some raised without manners and decorum, she saw the value in the genteel, decorous behavior befitting a witch of her blood and social status.
Pride and arrogance would never serve her well. But could blind her and build false hope. It was better to reject them completely... or as best she was able with the foundation of superiority that her entire persona was built upon.
The Parkinson completed her demonstration--smiling at Damion's reaction. His grin was contagious--particularly so as her instructor began to praise her. A flaw of the Slytherin was her need for such praise. She did not doubt herself, but her narcissistic psychological flaw materialized itself in her seeking of external validation. Her damaged sense of identity and dysfunctional self-focus led to Kallisto constantly seeking praise and approval from others. So, odd how a narcissist could both believe in their inherent superiority and excellence and still yet see themself as a waste of space--existing in the perpetual cycle of self-hate and self-love.
"Thank you," was the simple, but blatantly sincere response that fell from the Slytherin's tongue at Damion's congratulations of her progress. Kallisto nodded as the Kvothe expounded upon the purpose of the task she had demonstrated. The Transfiguration Master went on to exhibit the same exercise--his execution was flawless, of course. A twinge of envy constricted her heart, but she would not allow herself to be distracted by it. Of course, Damion would be able to perfect the complex task--his skills were far beyond hers as they should be. If that wasn't the case, then she would have no business seeking guidance from him.
The wizard spoke again--and this time his words focused on her. Were her posture not already perfect, the girl would have sat up a bit taller at the comments. Even still, a hint of pink crept onto her porcelain skin. This was not the first time she had been called a prodigy. Perseus had used the term many times when he was leading her down the path of the Dark Arts. "It is an honor," the witch said warmly as she accepted one of the shortbread biscuits he offered.
Kali had a bit of a weakness for shortbread. Her preference for baked sweets was a touch peculiar--though she loved chocolate, the witch could not abide it in her biscuits. Same with nuts and fruit, Kallisto did not want them in cookies. Biscuits were best plain with a nice crunch---sugar, shortbread, or gingerbread were her favorites. It all came down to texture. Gooey and squishy things did not fit---at least in her opinion.
The girl was taking a thoughtful nibble as Damion produced another book. Her eyes widened and brightened as he began to expound on what was to come next in her little training regimen. Popping the rest of her treat into her mouth, Kali accepted the book from her professor. The text seemed fascinating. Kali noted the way the text shifted and a gentle turning of the pages revealed bits of the contents to be out of order. This task seemed like great fun for the girl! She fought the compulsion to throw herself into devouring the tome immediately. It would not due to show Kvothe her impulsiveness. Such behaviors did not keep in line with the demure persona she put forth to the world. Her gaze moved from the book in her hands to Damion. There was a fire in her eyes now--fierce and determined. A bit of that Slytherin cockiness had come to the surface as the other half of her personality--the portion she attributed to her 'brother' surged to take control of the girl's action. "Willpower will not be an issue," Kallisto said firmly. There was no lack of confidence now---because if there was anything she knew, it was that her resolve was strong.
"I don't want to impose on any more of your time, sir." Kallisto said, rising from her seat. She might be able to play the part of the patient lady on her exterior. But she did not want to dally around when she had a new text to read. So, giving a slight bow of her head to the Transfiguration master, she continued: "Thank you for this-- I'll seek you out again when I have completed the reading."
After studying under several private tutors, but not actually finding one that could be available during the school year to her, she decided to simply reach out to the Hogwarts Transfiguration Master. The girl had been honing her Transfigurative skill since even before coming to the school--and had perfected her OWL, beginning to study NEWT material even before that fifth year exam. The vast majority of her training and instruction had come from private tutors, few of who were skilled in the art of teaching, even though they were skilled in the magic of Transfiguration. Though Transfiguration Master @damionkvothe was young, his animagus abilities made him perfectly suited for the task she had in her mind.
A short rap of her knuckles against the doorframe announced her arrival. "Professor," she greeted with a flash of her pearly whites as she stepped forward into the classroom. "Pardon my intrusion, but do you have a moment to spare? I had hoped to speak with you," the Parkinson explained.
--
The young professor had been singing to himself when she entered, but the standards of decorum that had been ingrained into her mind kept the witch from allowing any hint that she heard a sound to be reflected on her face. The man before her was so young---only a few years her elder. But how long had he been a master of Transfiguration? Some time surely as he was already a Professor of the magic---if he had managed the animagus mastery, there was no reason she could not do the same.
His demeanor was so casual. How odd it was--how a casual slouch could both put her at ease while making her feel a touch uncomfortable. Her family was so rigid. Rules for everything--constraints and expectations. Some moments she existed only because of those rules, and others--she ran from them with all she had, throwing off the purist, oppressive, old-fashioned nonsense, embracing the feminist streak that was allowing strong women to rise in this modern time.
"Wonderful, thank you-" the witch said politely. Meticulously manicured nails ran down the front of her robes, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from the fabric. Her family had suffered with the purist prejudice the current Minister was know for, but Arista did all she could to keep up appearances that all was well for the family, which meant tailored robes for Kali, made from only the finest of fabric. As the professor had chosen to sit, she opted to do the same, not wishing to visibly fidget, but being well aware of her difficulties with maintaining perfect stillness--something she was often chastised for at home.
The girl gracefully settled into a desk chair diagonal across from the desk Professor Kvothe had perched upon--facing him, of course. "I've come to make a request. I must admit I do not know if it quite proper to come to you directly--or what the official process for making this request should be, but I believe myself quite capable with Transfiguration. Capable enough to achieve an animagus form, with the proper instruction..." A slight pause came there--and the witch looked down at her hands. Her canine pulled her plump pout under its assault; the white point brightening the red of her lip until she dropped any attempt at leading up to the request and simply plainly declared: "What I am trying to ask--is would you train me?"
--
The professor seemed quite startled by her request, which was to be expected. It was not every day that a student came to him requesting the opportunity to master Transfiguration in such a way. Few would be willing to ask and even fewer would be willing to put forth the effort necessary to realize said request. But Kallisto Parkinson was not most students. She prided herself on the fact. She did not want to be like other teenage girls--- gossip bored her. Fashion and beauty were life, but the vast majority of the girls in the castle were fake in their interest in such things. They could not tell Valentino from Versace and had never heard of Hermes, despite the brand having been around for nearly two hundred years.
She gave a polite nod and smile at his first words--yes, it was a big request. Kallisto braced herself for an outright refusal, because really why would the man put forth the extra effort beyond the minimum requirements of his job? The pessimistic harsh voice in her head was having a heyday ripping apart her hopes, but the witch did her best to ignore it. Kali was well practiced by now at this--
Damion transformed himself before her and her stomach cinched at the sigh of his beautiful animagus form--a panther, statuesque and captivating with its bright orange eyes Cats, especially big cats, were so elegant. Not letting herself get caught up in the aesthetics of his transformation, the witch cleared her mind of her artistic musings and focused only on the words the young professor had formed into a question.
"I quite understand that some Masters of Transfiguration never manage an animagus form---and personally, I find it debatable that anyone could assert and support the notion that they actually need to achieve an animagus form. But I am not here simply because I was bored and wanted a new hobby. I am pursuing several avenues to clarify for myself what sort of future I want to have after Hogwarts." Her internship at Witch Weekly and her leadership positions at Hogwarts and within Slytherin served as examples of her efforts to find a clear direction for her life.
"Coming to you today was a step on one of those paths, if I prove myself capable of animagi Transfiguration, that would serve as a significant justification to continue to pursue more knowledge in this field of magic after graduation--even so far as perhaps a career. I have always had a proclivity for this field--and enjoyed it, but there are so few career opportunities with Transfiguration and I am such a perfectionist that I need to know whether or not I can be one of the best." She was not ashamed of her arrogance or opinion, but was most polite in her speech and diction as she presented it to the wizard. Kallisto did not wish to come across as cocky, only confident and grounded.
--
Kallisto could not explain fully to the professor her motivations. SHe was not even sure she could even articulate them completely to herself. The need for an animagus form as it related to her mother's business could not be shared with the professor. Obviously, no one in his position would faciliate the girl's involvement in criminal activity. But he seemed to accept the answer she gave. He did not know her well. He did not know her strength of will and determination--how single minded she could get when in pursuit of an objective. It was exceptionally easy for the girl to go down the rabbit hole with one of her obsessions. Such had happened many times.
She did not shrink back or lose any visible confidence as his eyes weighed on her. Kallisto was not intimidate or nervous. She could have played such, if she thought it would further her agenda, but she didn't believe that was the case.
Did the why matter so much that her answer could result in his refusal of her request? And so what if he did? She would just go on and find someone else to facilitate this. She'd already conned a certain man into hiring a number of Transfiguration tutors over the years. She could continue that path; with her internship at Witch Weekly, she was able to leave the castle. She could add in a few lessons here and there with an external tutor should Damion refuse her.
He gave her a boyish grin as he consented to the request--and she was again reminded of his youth. So young...and yet a professor at Hogwarts. It made her wonder if the pay was unspeakably low and that's why there were so many young faces now standing behind teachers' podiums at the institution.
The man fired off a round of questions, earning an arched brow from the witch. His tone and expression did not match--and while the questions seemed tedious, there was something about his demeanour that made him seem somewhat excited about this proposition. "I tolerate unpleasantness as well as anyone, I suspect," she offered in response to his first question. "As of dedication, concentration, and patience, I assure you, I will not disappoint on any front. I am quite tenacious and well aware of the time investment that this endeavour with require."
Damion was moving away from her. So, she rose and followed. The man gave her more warning, his voice soft and thoughtful as he produced a more comfortable chair in front of his desk for her. The witch sat, giving him a small smile. "I am aware. I know all that can be learned about the transformation that can be learned from books--at least, the books I could find in the library here and from academic literary dealers. My father procured a number of rare texts for me about the magic with the promise from me that I would not attempt it on my own. Beyond his worries, I understand the need for a guide--and acknowledge that the written word can be misinterpreted, particularly when dealing with tricky translations...So, I appreciate your mentoring me through this journey."
--
Kallisto was most pleased with how this little impromptu meeting had played out. The young professor before her seemed accepting of the reasons she gave--which was relieving. She had tried to best present her justifications in such a light that would encourage his assistance. As Damion pulled a mishapen leaf from his desk drawer, her eyes widened. The witch knew the frond on sight, though this was the first time she had actually seen a leaf not attached to a live mandrake or in an illustration. Kallisto pushed the memory of her unfortunate herbology incident with the young mandrakes some years before from her mind. She always seemed to get the short end of the stick in Herbology---hyper sensitivity to the mandrake screams, extreme allergy to devil's snare, just a lot of badness seemed to happen to her in the greenhouse. She only kept with the class because of potioneering--if she wanted to really expand her cauldron experiments, she needed to be able to manage at least some ingredients herself. Too many of the more interesting additives needed to be fresh and weren't easily acquired, even by someone like her mother.
But back to the leaf---she was aware of all that Damion had said about it. The horrid taste was not something she looked forward to--no more than she was looking forward to keeping anything no matter the taste in her mouth of a whole bloody month... but this step was, in her opinion, surely the easiest that she had read about. If she couldn't manage keeping a leaf under her tongue for a month, then she was not nearly the dedicated and determined witch she believed herself to be.
"Do you recommend a sticking charm to hold it in place? Or perhaps some other magic?" she asked. The witch did not imagine that she was just supposed to stick it in her mouth without anything to keep it in place. Otherwise, wouldn't she just swallow or spit it out in her sleep?
Next, Damion launched into a set of rules--or guidelines--or points. It was hard tell which, really. But she listened all the same. The witch was well aware that there was no way to choose her form, which she regarded as unfortunate, but had accepted. The witch did have her hope, of course, but she kept that particularly longing very closely guarded. To demonstrate both her understanding of his words and convey that she was actively listening, she nodded her understanding when such a reaction was appropriate.
The witch kept her disapproval of the idea of registering with the Ministry from her face. That perfect practiced purist smile never faltering--grandmother would have been so proud. "Of course," she interjected after that point, her voice soft and nonintrusive.
She tilted her head slightly at his comment about questions. Was he referring to questions she might ask? Or would he posing them to her? Either way, she had no objection to this. Worst case, if he asked her something she was unwilling to answer, she was quite adept at the art of lying. It had been a talent both inherited from and taught to her by the elder Parkinson women.
The witch's smile grew when the man forbade her from training another in this art, at least while she was his apprentice. Of all the things that Damion might have to worry about when it came to what Kallisto might do with the magic he was teaching her, sharing it was not something he needed to concern himself about in the least. She would not be teaching anyone else. The witch could not even think of someone that she considered both capable of the magic and tolerable enough to spend such an extended amount of time with. "I have no interest in training another. You needn't worry about that. I do not find that I have a teacher's spirit."
Damion placed the leaf between them, an offering to her. She looked at it for a moment as he spoke. There were hints of excitement on her aristocratic features--she could have masked them, but she didn't. Why not let the man see her true eagerness? There was no reason to gaurd that from him. It was nice, too, to smile and it be sincere. Faking did grow tiresome, even for someone born and bred for such a masquerade. "Thank you, I'll return to you tomorrow then," the witch said as she picked up the leaf. Rising from her seat, she bowed her head to Damion. Grinning like he was, feet propped on his desk, his youth seemed to radiate of him. She flashed him her most dazzling smile and departed.
Though she did miss as many meals as she attended, Kallisto was present for that day's evening meal. The witch ate more than she would usually--indulging on only her favorites, knowing that soon, all food would be tainted by a distinct unpleasantness. She did not loiter in the dining hall, but retired to the girl's dormitory straight away.
Placing the mandrake leaf was not particularly easy, but after several minor readjustments, she had it where she thought it would best fit. The taste hadn't hit her suddenly, perhaps having her mouth open while she positioned the leaf kept its full force from hitting her all at once. But then it came--and Merlin! was it foul.
By the next morning, she was convinced this was going to be the longest month of her life. Gross-gross-gross... But at least her hygenie routines were completely magical--so, cleaning her teeth was done by charm instead of one of those ridiculious tiny brushes that some of the other girls used. She imagined that was what the professor had been eluding to when he said brushing her teeth would be difficult. He obviously wasn't from an old family--not that she hadn't already known that from his last name. But whatever--regardless of his heritage and whether or not his magical capacity had been stolen from those who deserved it, she would learn from him. She could take back a sliver of what had been ripped away from the purists by gaining this expertise. It was her birthright.
She had classes in the morning--and was fairly certain the same was true for the Transfiguration professor. Rounds during the free period in the afternoon meant the witch was not able to return to Damion until about an hour before dinner was to be served.
The witch entered the classroom, finding the man not so different than she had left him. "I have managed a day with the leaf," she announced, the frond's presence in her mouth gave her the smallest of lisps. She had practiced talking to herself for a long while the night before trying to master it, but had little success. As such, these words to Damion were the most she had said all day. The normally active participator in classes had not raised her hand once to respond to questions. She did not want to draw attention to the fact that she was attempting this mastery. It was her business not anyone else's.
--
Kallisto had employed the sticking charm, believing it would be easier to manage the leaf in her mouth for so long if the thing was rooted in place. It still felt so weird, though...and made her mouth produce more saliva than usual. It felt like like she was swallowing every few seconds.
The purist took the seat the young professor gestured to. Her motions carried their usual gracefulness and she sat tall, perched on the edge of the seat. She carried herself as a lady should--as Arista had taught her to.
She smiled warmly at the man as he inquired about her progress and struggle. A shake of her head rustled her mane of dark curls and she said: "No, no problems."
Her smile grew a bit as Damion congratulated her on having the first day nearly conquered. "Thank you. Yes, I am still quite sure that I'll be able to endure the month." The witch assured the man. At his comment on the taste, the Slytherin laughed and wrinkled her nose. "Oh sweet Merlin, yes!" The taste really was foul and eating or drinking did nothing to remove or lessen its unpleasantness. If anything, the leaf seemed capable of dominating even the most bold of flavors. Coffee could not compete. Perhaps the professor would have some recommendations for what to eat or what to avoid. "The taste is so strong and persistent. Nothing I drank or ate today was able to compete at all. Were there any foods you favored for your month?"
--
Kallisto smiled politely at the professor as he answered her question. She had not expected there would be anything that would be particularly enjoyable to eat this next month, but it was nice to have some suggestions of what not to eat.
"Thank you, I'll give that a shot," she commented as to the garlic and lemon. Perhaps a rather bitter tea with a heavy dose of lemon would be her evening drink.
"Is this an acceptable time? You told me to come by today, but you seem rather busy, should I come back later or tomorrow?" The witch inquired. She did not want to inconvenience the man who was helping her.
--
Kallisto had quite the habit to skip meals--that could partially be blamed on being busy, but also on nagging commentary in her head always keeping her slightly on edge about gaining weight. But she could make a point to make it to the Great Hall at least twice a day for this month. She did not want to give the professor any reason to change his mind about training her. "Okay. I'll make an effort to make meal times." Her sentence was delivered with perfect politeness and a soft smile. Her grandmother would have been so proud.
As Professor Kvothe spoke, she nodded along to indicate she was both paying attention and internalizing what the man had to say. She was quite comfortable with nonverbal magic, and had been actively practicing nonverbal advanced transfigurations for over a year, but had little wandless experience--beyond closing the curtains from her bed or summoning small items, she had always simply defaulted to the use of her conduit. "Thank you," Kali said softly as she took the book from the professor. She could hardly wait to devour the text, but her manners kept her from diving into it immediately. Her attention stayed on the wizard. She was visibly excited and happy, but also clearly in full control of her person and her display of emotion, which kept her demonstrations of her feelings muted.
"I'll begin looking over this, this evening--and seek you out in the morrow should I have any pressing questions." Kallisto flashed Damion a dazzling smile and gave a small bow to the man. The witch spoke a small bit more excusing herself and offering her thanks again before leaving the room. She would make quick work of the book and the ones following it.
Each volume she would keep for three to four days at most. Though the witch was very busy with many classes, her internship, and Quidditch, she found several hours each day to dedicate to her pursuit of the Transfiguration mastery. It meant she was neglecting her paintbrush, but that trade off was well worth it, at least for the short term. Kali was sleeping very little these days, too, which gave her time to allot to the extra work--her insomnia could only be conquered with strong potions taking every day and she hated them--the damper they put on her mind and body the day after was not enough to merit their use. She took them only once or twice a week--that seemed to be enough to keep her from suffering total exhaustion with minimal side effects from the treatment. It was a balancing act to manage both the treatment and the disease to allow her the best and most productive life possible.
-----
Kallisto had done it! She had made it the full month--and with only one leaf, too! The sticking charm had been the key to keeping the leaf both in place and intact. After a full month of the distinctly unpleasant taste in her mouth, some might have expected that it would fade or loose some its intensity. It didn't and it hadn't. If anything, the taste had gotten worse the longer that time passed. It was foul and she was delighted to be done with it.
All smiles the Slytherin bounced towards the Transfiguration room. Her previous visits she had been prim and wholly ladylike, but today, some of her excitement and pride were seeping through the demure mask her grandmother had taught her to always maintain. The Parkinson had not removed the leaf, not yet. She wanted her professor's approval before doing so.
"Professor," she called as she stepped into the empty classroom. "It's been a month." Kallisto declared to Kvothe . Though the taste had grown stronger, the lisp she had been plagued with early in the time period had been conquered nearly completely--so her speech was clear and easy to understand as her soprano projected over the open space.
--
The professor gave her his attention as she approached his desk. The witch carried herself as a true lady--with the grace and lithe body of a ballerina, Kallisto exhibited all the traits Arista had groomed her to display. The indoctrination of etiquette and propriety dictated the way the pureblood interacted with society and the public. So, despite Damion Kvothe being only a handful of years older than her, she treated the man with great respect--not out of inherent respect for him, (as truly she was in no position to determine if the man was worthy of her respect,) but out of respect for his position. To be a professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was a great honor.
At his joshing, Kallisto let out a ring of musical laughter. The sound was lovely, but the most observant of listeners could pick up on the shadow of sadness and anger than lingered at the edges of audible representation of amusement. "I doubt any have enjoyed the mandrake, sir," she answered, a slight bow of deference came with words. While her tone was leaning towards formal, the twinkle in the Slytherin's azure eyes matched the playfulness of Kvothe's cheeky comment.
When the Transfiguration Master gestured to a seat, a single nod accepted the offer. Kallisto's motions had a way of catching the eye--all were mimicking the woman who had raised her. Somehow her body seemed to be both stiff and fluid. There was a effortless refinement to each step and even how she lowered herself into the seat, but her back was always straight--her shoulders back--her head held high--eyes forward--smile never faltering. She was both the marble statue and a living being.
A slight widening of her smile and another nod of her head were the Parkinson's silent response to Kvothe's offer of congratulations. Kali was proud of enduring the first trial, but had no misconceptions about how far she still had to go in pursuit of her animagus form. The journey would be long and fraught with challenges to tax and try both her skill and resolve. Talk turned to the last text she had received from the man as she smoothed non-existent wrinkles from her skirt. Though every article of clothing on her body conformed to the uniform requirements of the school, her ensemble was proof that not even standardized uniforms could truly set all students to equal. As materialistic as the Parkinson women before her--and with her interest in fashion and position at Witch Weekly--even her uniforms were bespoke, perfectly tailored for her and made of only the finest cloth. Only the best for Perseus's princess of the apocalypse.
"I am," Kallisto promised in response to the man's inquiry. "The wandless exercises have been fascinating and most challenging. The water conjuration and phase shift has been my focus." She found the example to be a most brilliant way to exhibit controlled change and by being able maintain multiple spells at once, she was growing her overall magical capacity as was required to perform wandless, nonverbal full transformation of her person. "I would be happy to demonstrate my current progress." The witch cupped her hands together in front of her and for the first time since entering the room, her attention left the professor and focused in the void of space above her palms. "Aguamenti," Kali whispered. Slowly a sphere of water grew into being floating a few inches above her hands. The next spell the witch cast, she achieved non-verbally. Phase shifting had always come easier to her than conjuration, though due to Perseus's commitment to her mastery of the latter in pursuit of fiendfyre, she had grown adept at both. The ice froze and rose slightly higher from her hands. This was where things got extra complicated. The goal was to conjure fire beneath the ice, while maintaining the spherical shape by maintaining control over the positions of the water molecules. The exercise in the week she had been practicing it had expanded her ability to focus considerably.
A long preparatory breath was drawn in through her nose. Her eyes were fixated in front of her. She had not even glanced the professor's way since beginning her demonstration. "Incendio Tria," was the husky incantation commanded from her tongue. Blue flames burst into being beneath the frozen sphere, tips as vibrant as her eyes licked around the icy surface, rising up to engulf the ball. Kallisto felt the first drops of water hit her palms and frowned, but she did not let the imperfection of her attempt to cause her to abandon the effort. She ignored the few dozen splatters that came against her skin over the ten or so seconds that the fire engulfed her conjured water. Barely visible curls of steam rose up, escaping her magic, enough time had passed-- "Evanesco," she thought in her mind, commanding the fire into a state of non-being. When the flames died out, floating before her was a ball of liquid water. Her execution still was not perfect, but she had come quite a long way in the six hours she had spent practicing outside on the balcony last night after her rounds.. The double conjuration had not been a problem for her, but keeping full control of the fire and the water had provided to be extremely difficult. It wasn't just her conjuration or phase shifting transfiguration skills that were being tested and strengthened by this activity. Vanishment was required to get rid of the flames before the water evaporated away. Even transformative transfiguration had a place in this series of spells, as she used transformative magic to force the liquid water to shape itself into a ball.
Another nonverbal casting of the vanishing spell and the water disappeared from view. The twenty or so droplets that had found their way onto her palms earned a distinct frown from the witch as she brushed her hands together a few times until the water was gone.
She had wanted so desperately to master the exercise before her visit to Kvothe today. When she had began the night before, she had not been able to keep the water from melting into a puddle once she conjured the fire. It had been hours of practice until she had managed to keep the majority of the liquid contained. But hopefully, Kvothe would not be disappointed with her progress. When he had provided her the first text for her study, the witch had hoped to manage two or three volumes per week. However, with her enormous course load (everything offered in the castle save Muggle Studies), extracurricular obligations, prefect duties, Witch Weekly internship, and overwhelming desire to shag Finn, even being an insomniac who slept a handful of hours per week did not give her enough time for that rate of progress. She had settled into a solid rate though; always managing, thus far, to exhaust the contents of whatever the professor provided her within a week. This book had been far more interesting than the ones before it, in her opinion. But, perhaps, she felt this way because the progress it brought her was just more easy to observe...
--
If there was a commonality between herself and the young professor, beyond some inherent proclivities for Transfiguration, the witch was not aware of them. His last name was not particularly familiar to her. She knew not of his father despite whatever business he and Myles had in the past--or any similarities their upbringings might have shared. Kallisto had allowed--and even embraced--the lessons the Parkinsons had instilled in her shaping who she appeared to the world. Unlike some raised without manners and decorum, she saw the value in the genteel, decorous behavior befitting a witch of her blood and social status.
Pride and arrogance would never serve her well. But could blind her and build false hope. It was better to reject them completely... or as best she was able with the foundation of superiority that her entire persona was built upon.
The Parkinson completed her demonstration--smiling at Damion's reaction. His grin was contagious--particularly so as her instructor began to praise her. A flaw of the Slytherin was her need for such praise. She did not doubt herself, but her narcissistic psychological flaw materialized itself in her seeking of external validation. Her damaged sense of identity and dysfunctional self-focus led to Kallisto constantly seeking praise and approval from others. So, odd how a narcissist could both believe in their inherent superiority and excellence and still yet see themself as a waste of space--existing in the perpetual cycle of self-hate and self-love.
"Thank you," was the simple, but blatantly sincere response that fell from the Slytherin's tongue at Damion's congratulations of her progress. Kallisto nodded as the Kvothe expounded upon the purpose of the task she had demonstrated. The Transfiguration Master went on to exhibit the same exercise--his execution was flawless, of course. A twinge of envy constricted her heart, but she would not allow herself to be distracted by it. Of course, Damion would be able to perfect the complex task--his skills were far beyond hers as they should be. If that wasn't the case, then she would have no business seeking guidance from him.
The wizard spoke again--and this time his words focused on her. Were her posture not already perfect, the girl would have sat up a bit taller at the comments. Even still, a hint of pink crept onto her porcelain skin. This was not the first time she had been called a prodigy. Perseus had used the term many times when he was leading her down the path of the Dark Arts. "It is an honor," the witch said warmly as she accepted one of the shortbread biscuits he offered.
Kali had a bit of a weakness for shortbread. Her preference for baked sweets was a touch peculiar--though she loved chocolate, the witch could not abide it in her biscuits. Same with nuts and fruit, Kallisto did not want them in cookies. Biscuits were best plain with a nice crunch---sugar, shortbread, or gingerbread were her favorites. It all came down to texture. Gooey and squishy things did not fit---at least in her opinion.
The girl was taking a thoughtful nibble as Damion produced another book. Her eyes widened and brightened as he began to expound on what was to come next in her little training regimen. Popping the rest of her treat into her mouth, Kali accepted the book from her professor. The text seemed fascinating. Kali noted the way the text shifted and a gentle turning of the pages revealed bits of the contents to be out of order. This task seemed like great fun for the girl! She fought the compulsion to throw herself into devouring the tome immediately. It would not due to show Kvothe her impulsiveness. Such behaviors did not keep in line with the demure persona she put forth to the world. Her gaze moved from the book in her hands to Damion. There was a fire in her eyes now--fierce and determined. A bit of that Slytherin cockiness had come to the surface as the other half of her personality--the portion she attributed to her 'brother' surged to take control of the girl's action. "Willpower will not be an issue," Kallisto said firmly. There was no lack of confidence now---because if there was anything she knew, it was that her resolve was strong.
"I don't want to impose on any more of your time, sir." Kallisto said, rising from her seat. She might be able to play the part of the patient lady on her exterior. But she did not want to dally around when she had a new text to read. So, giving a slight bow of her head to the Transfiguration master, she continued: "Thank you for this-- I'll seek you out again when I have completed the reading."
