As Professor Foxwood spoke, Ida propped an elbow on the desk, leaning her chin thoughtfully against her fist to consider his response. This was precisely the type of insight she sought! Each Professor should be approached differently: some gained perverse pleasure from cocky students with erroneous calculations, too willing to let them see their misfortune through. Even worse were the Professors too kind to tear down students' improbable hopes, who instead smiled cheekily to say, may-beeee. Ida could do without that roundabout nonsense. She'd rather hear early and often if she was headed down the wrong rabbit hole, and precisely why. Perhaps this is why Professor Foxwood earned her confidence so quickly?
After all, he was very young by professorial standards, and she only met him in her third year. This, combined with most girls' obvious glee to have such a handsome new professor, only fueled her skepticism. Embarrassingly, she couldn't have been more obvious about her feelings. Still lost deep in grief over her mother's death, Ida had zero interest in the niceties of returning his polite greetings, did the near-minimum to pass, and would outright decline to volunteer herself for demonstrations. Despite all this, he treated her no differently. When he praised her spellwork, it was genuine pride she saw on his face, not pity or surprise. In hindsight, he must have sensed how close Ida felt to giving up. Somehow, he saw a window of opportunity to anchor her in a future that still existed once she emerged from her pain: starting with a nudge to assist the younger students in revisions, or an invitation to shadow an OWLs class, or reminders that she also had a worthy voice. Today, he was the one person whose opinions she respected most of all.
"I debated endlessly about the waxing or waning," she confided, though left out just how many hours of sleep lost. "Then it occurred to me the waxing moon gets more sunlight on it as the days go by. So would it be better to sync your start with the wane, as the moon retreats back into darkness? It is infuriating really, that even the best documentation we have is so opaque on this matter," she sighed, temporarily exasperated by their magical predecessors' lack of foresight to define such critical details. She did not appreciate things left to chance.
"At any rate, I intend to capitalize on the strength of the moon's pull at the start of Lunar New Year... We have many superstitions about how the first weeks of the year set the tone for what's to come. Families prepare extensively, cleansing their homes of bad luck, resolving old quarrels... It is considered quite a poor omen to fall ill or have excessive debts at the turn of the year." She paused to open her journal to a fresh page. "So this is what I am mimicking, you see. Out with the old human self, in with the new, connected Yang self." A deadpan tone almost entirely concealed Ida's attempt at a joke, but rather than catch a reaction she had already moved on to scribbling notes of their discussion thusfar.
"Did you know the Chinese don't wash our hair until at least a week into the new year? They say it washes away new fortune," she mused, already her previous exasperation had already given way to optimistic curiosity. "While I agree that it is improbable to align all variables at this time of year, our perspectives might diverge on approach. If I assume this leaf is the most active ingredient in my compound, this tactic might front-load its connective force with the moon at a time of the year when my body is allegedly most susceptible to it. If the mandrake absorbs everything, this could yield greater efficiency." She added this assumptive risk to her diary. "This attempt proposes that there is a fundamental reliance on the leaf," she decided. "Though it is a pleasing coincidence that I'll be steeping it with my lucky new year hair," she added with a grin.
"Now that you mention statistical analysis, the indeterminate steeping period may also be worth study. One recount in Conjectures in Self-Taught Transubstantition waited a week prior to the storm, and the solution failed to turn. While in Ilvermorny's September feature in Transfiguration Today, it was reported that indigenous populations with many successful animagi wait at least two months." Nothing if not meticulous, Ida was already creating a reference list.
"If we assume the first electrical storms take place March at earliest, when seasons change..." she tapped her chin pensively. "In addition to literature review and interviews, this could also include a practical experiment. What if a new solution was developed each month? If controlled on all other factors, by the time a storm occurs, could one assess each solution's hue and viscosity to understand which month yielded the greatest potency? Though ideally, we'd have a comparison among multiple individuals..." Ida took no issue with twirling a mandrake leaf in her mouth for the better part of a year, though other students - even in the Transfiguration club- might need convincing.
"I believe Mister Selwyn's mother is an animagus. Perhaps he could ask if she would not mind paying our club meeting a visit, so we could all ask questions..." In Ida's mind, it was not enough to merely transform herself, nearly anyone could accomplish this if they really set their mind to it. But to fundamentally improve the process for anyone else who undertook this effort thereafter? Then she could confidently assert a mastery in craft.
In that second Ida dropped her quill as if lightning struck her hand. She leveled a wide-eyed stare at her mentor, realizing she had taken an unusually long time to register her professor's encouragement.
"Wait - professor!" she gasped. "Are you suggesting this might be a premise for a thesis?"
After all, he was very young by professorial standards, and she only met him in her third year. This, combined with most girls' obvious glee to have such a handsome new professor, only fueled her skepticism. Embarrassingly, she couldn't have been more obvious about her feelings. Still lost deep in grief over her mother's death, Ida had zero interest in the niceties of returning his polite greetings, did the near-minimum to pass, and would outright decline to volunteer herself for demonstrations. Despite all this, he treated her no differently. When he praised her spellwork, it was genuine pride she saw on his face, not pity or surprise. In hindsight, he must have sensed how close Ida felt to giving up. Somehow, he saw a window of opportunity to anchor her in a future that still existed once she emerged from her pain: starting with a nudge to assist the younger students in revisions, or an invitation to shadow an OWLs class, or reminders that she also had a worthy voice. Today, he was the one person whose opinions she respected most of all.
"I debated endlessly about the waxing or waning," she confided, though left out just how many hours of sleep lost. "Then it occurred to me the waxing moon gets more sunlight on it as the days go by. So would it be better to sync your start with the wane, as the moon retreats back into darkness? It is infuriating really, that even the best documentation we have is so opaque on this matter," she sighed, temporarily exasperated by their magical predecessors' lack of foresight to define such critical details. She did not appreciate things left to chance.
"At any rate, I intend to capitalize on the strength of the moon's pull at the start of Lunar New Year... We have many superstitions about how the first weeks of the year set the tone for what's to come. Families prepare extensively, cleansing their homes of bad luck, resolving old quarrels... It is considered quite a poor omen to fall ill or have excessive debts at the turn of the year." She paused to open her journal to a fresh page. "So this is what I am mimicking, you see. Out with the old human self, in with the new, connected Yang self." A deadpan tone almost entirely concealed Ida's attempt at a joke, but rather than catch a reaction she had already moved on to scribbling notes of their discussion thusfar.
"Did you know the Chinese don't wash our hair until at least a week into the new year? They say it washes away new fortune," she mused, already her previous exasperation had already given way to optimistic curiosity. "While I agree that it is improbable to align all variables at this time of year, our perspectives might diverge on approach. If I assume this leaf is the most active ingredient in my compound, this tactic might front-load its connective force with the moon at a time of the year when my body is allegedly most susceptible to it. If the mandrake absorbs everything, this could yield greater efficiency." She added this assumptive risk to her diary. "This attempt proposes that there is a fundamental reliance on the leaf," she decided. "Though it is a pleasing coincidence that I'll be steeping it with my lucky new year hair," she added with a grin.
"Now that you mention statistical analysis, the indeterminate steeping period may also be worth study. One recount in Conjectures in Self-Taught Transubstantition waited a week prior to the storm, and the solution failed to turn. While in Ilvermorny's September feature in Transfiguration Today, it was reported that indigenous populations with many successful animagi wait at least two months." Nothing if not meticulous, Ida was already creating a reference list.
"If we assume the first electrical storms take place March at earliest, when seasons change..." she tapped her chin pensively. "In addition to literature review and interviews, this could also include a practical experiment. What if a new solution was developed each month? If controlled on all other factors, by the time a storm occurs, could one assess each solution's hue and viscosity to understand which month yielded the greatest potency? Though ideally, we'd have a comparison among multiple individuals..." Ida took no issue with twirling a mandrake leaf in her mouth for the better part of a year, though other students - even in the Transfiguration club- might need convincing.
"I believe Mister Selwyn's mother is an animagus. Perhaps he could ask if she would not mind paying our club meeting a visit, so we could all ask questions..." In Ida's mind, it was not enough to merely transform herself, nearly anyone could accomplish this if they really set their mind to it. But to fundamentally improve the process for anyone else who undertook this effort thereafter? Then she could confidently assert a mastery in craft.
In that second Ida dropped her quill as if lightning struck her hand. She leveled a wide-eyed stare at her mentor, realizing she had taken an unusually long time to register her professor's encouragement.
"Wait - professor!" she gasped. "Are you suggesting this might be a premise for a thesis?"