Ilvermorny NPC iNPC Registry

Lia was born to a half blood and a muggle, Angie Irinova and Ivan Irinova, respectively. Lia is an only daughter, making her a true blessing in her parents' eyes.

She never lacked anything; if she wanted something, she'd get it, as long as she played the perfect daughter role. At 6, she could speak perfect Russian, which she learned to only use when throwing a tantrum in public. Lia grew up in a normal life, as normal as a daughter of one of the most successful lawyers can be. If she wanted a limited edition, she'd get it.

At 10, Lia was barely entertained with things; she just collected them, like the last season Dior bag her father bought her for her birthday, the imported dress from France... It all stopped meaning something; she just used them to feel superior and untouchable, because an Irinova from her family's level would never be seen wearing poor people's stuff. Never.

Her last name got her everything, and now, she didn't want to just get what she wanted; she wanted to see how far her last name would take her before people realized she'd gone too far and had no way back.

Lia didn't like when people wore black, it seemed such a plain color, a color that could be overlooked in a crowd, she didn't understand why her family was wearing it, why she was wearing it; but no matter how hard she protested they ignored her demands to change her clothes.

At six, clearly she had better fashion sense than her family.

She was so annoyed that when she looked at herself in the mirror, a frown formed on her face instantly; she wanted something green or purple, not the ash color she was wearing.

For a second, it looked like the skirt had changed its color, then it started to do it more frequently, just enough times for her mother to look horrified.

She was born in Chicago, Illinois and moved to New Orleans, Louisiana when she was eight because her father got a job as a wandmaker. She's born to a pureblood father and a muggleborn mother who's an engineer. Her and her entire family packed up and relocated to a different state. Grew up right down the street from her childhood best friend, Taylor. They went to the local elementary school together and rode bicycles through the neighborhood. A staple of her childhood was visiting her paternal grandmother witch, who lived in a large old house in Chicago as well. She is credited for giving Ivy her deep love of reading and passed down family books that inspired her imaginative goals. Moving to New Orleans introduced her romantic lore where she met her next door neighbor, Milo White. They grew up together as childhood best friends, climbing trees, going to jackson square to look at paintings, and going to frenchmen street listening to jazz. Growing up in New Orleans developed her love for supernatural lore like vampires and werewolves. She once built a good sand castle when she was a kid, inspired by her mom as an engineer. She started playing the piano and learning ballet when she was younger. She used to dance for her toy animals and play a cheering audio in the background. Her parents adopted a Yorkshire terrier from a shelter.

Half her childhood, Ivy would be curled up on the enormous, dust-choked library floor of her grandmother’s aging Chicago house. At the age of seven, after climbing a very heavy wooden rolling ladder to retrieve a leather-bound ancient fairy tale book that her grandmother had vowed to bequeath her, the spine of which she was about to touch when something skittered at the corner of the shelf-something big and hairy, a wolf spider, her most mortal terror. Ivy stood frozen, eyes wide, gape open, a silent shriek catching in her throat as she overbalanced on the ladder and tumbled.

It wasn’t fear, or survival instinct-or some mad flight of pure desire, but it sent her floating down through the air, cushion of pumped-up air buoying her.

As she fell the leather book somehow opened, pages fanning rapidly and Ivy landed on the floor, with a sigh, perfectly safe and utterly bewitched.

Xinyue was born to a wealthy couple— a pureblood and muggleborn— who lived in Calgary, but all the soot and ashes from the fires would make Xinyue cough and her skin look dirty, so per her request, they moved away to the beautiful Vancouver, with its chilling seaside and mild temperatures. It was her dreamland. When people saw her on the street, they would assume that she was a pampered little princess, and when they teased her about it, she would kick them hard, with enough force to cause immense pain, but just enough so that nothing would remain, except their complaints that a little girl had hurt them without causing harm. Which, when you think about it, was quite unconvincing due to the absurdity of the comments and her parents immense wealth. Xinyue was quite popular in school, and she had the school wrapped under her little pinky. It was nearly compensation for her parents sending her to school with nomajs, insisting that she’ll develop important skills and learn how to communicate civilly. That, was just absurd. At the age of 6, she could read most books, and at the age of 8, her volcabulary was more extensive than some university students. Her teachers were always fake smiling at her, but Xinyue knew that they were always talking about her, about how she can reduce most people to tears with her insults, exploit people’s deepest insecurities and how she could send someone’s social life plummeting if they pissed her off. Xinyue didn’t care. She never did. And so she didn’t even bat an eye when she was expelled. She was, after all, a witch. There were better futures waiting for her.

It was at the ends of her property where she finally cracked. It was stormy, sure, but she didn’t care. Xinyue was sitting there, applying her makeup when a raven had appeared, apparently trying to steal her makeup. She froze. No one stole anything from her. Not even a lowly raven. And she was going to teach that raven a lesson. Xinyue tried grabbing the raven, trying to rip off some of its feathered, but it was too fast. The raven dodged and flapped away, cawing as if it was laughing… AND THAT FOUL BEAST HAD HER EARRINGS! Xinyue screamed, her vocal cords going far higher than the normal frequency, shattering the windows in the shed, scaring the raven, who spiraled into a tree. I finally got my FIOM, she thought as she slowly staggered back to the house.

Arc Power: 7 Stamina: 7 Wisdom: 6 Accuracy: 7 Strength: 1 Evasion: 7

Nicola's mother, Margery Parker, was a... Very outgoing muggle girl. She was the kind of woman who'd never stay at home. Maybe that's why it was never a surprise when, during one of her parties, she ended up pregnant. And, having no idea who the father of the baby was, she decided to rely on her parents' support during the pregnancy.

When the baby was six months old, she decided to settle down, leave her wild soul behind and be a mother, starting from cero in New York City.

Due to her dad's connections, she met Coriolanus Hendricks. A business man, slightly older than her, CEO of many companies, and associated of the ones he didn't own yet. They got married not long after, and he took Nicola as his own daughter.

A smiling baby, Nicola was born to shine. Being known as the heir of the Hendricks fortune and being loved by so many, she had little to no complaints to cry about. She'd ask anything, and daddy would give it to her. A new dress? Got it. A pony? Got it. That Gucci purse she saw? She had it. But sadly, despite having all the wealth a kid could ask for and more, there's one thing money can't buy: love.

Her father was always busy, buying her things so she'd stop throwing tantrums, and her mother... She was the public ideal wife: Always silent, loving and caring. She changed from being a wild should to being what's known as a tradwife.

So little Nicola would spend her days always stuck in that beautiful, big building of her father in the middle of Manhattan. That, when she wasn't recording ads or giving interviews for kid shows. Or attending her dad's events just to show how beautiful his family was.

She started her education at the age of five. Of course, her parents wouldn't allow her to attend a simple school. That'd be mixing themselves with the poor, no matter how many connections or references the school had. No, they hired governesses. Babysitters who would take care of Nic while Margery was making her nails and Coryo was at the other side of the country.

They never had it easy with Nic. If she didn't understand a subject, the screams she'd give would be so high people in Texas would hear them. If she didn't like the governess, oh, she'd make it clear. This doesn't mean she was dumb, though. For her age, Nicola was actually pretty smart. She just cared more about looks and what the Vogue Kids trend was.

You'd also know it by the way she always managed to twist the situation until she had what she wanted. Growing up spoiled, but without love, can do that to a girl.

When she was nine, she found out that life isn't always in the pink shade. One day, her mother started acting weird. Specially towards her father. And it's not like she never acted like that, Nic was used to hearing their screams while they argued from the other side of the building. No, her mother, the woman who always got her cookies and the best interviews and makeups, was afraid of her husband.

And one night, exactly a week after all of this, she snuck into Nicola's bed while the girl was about to fall asleep.

"I need you to be strong, Nic. For both of us. I'll come back for you." She asked, kissing her daughter's forehead with tears running down her cheeks.

Of course, Nicola did not understand any of this. For her, Margery was just having another episode of weirdness.

Until she woke up next day to notice her mom was gone. Vanished. Disappeared. Poof!
Her father did not seem to notice and Nicola never mentioned that interaction to him. Until the second day, when the media started wondering, and he gave the official version to everyone.

"She ran away with her lover, leaving us behind. She abandoned her own daughter. Her own family."

And Nicola couldn't do nothing but make a sad face. It's hard to question your dad when you have cameras all around you.

But since that day, she started giving that exact same version to the magazines and her friends. A few days later, Nicola and her dad had to go to London.

Her aunt Mariah was dead. A heart attack, apparently. Curious, considering her dad never mentioned her or his brother, John.

Why would they attend the funeral of a woman she barely knew?

It rained that day. While everyone presented their respect and condolences, she saw her cousin, Mikaela, staring at the coffin, emotionless.

They had both lost their mothers. One was dead, the other vanished. A family line, huh?

Once the funeral ended, things got heavy. Her uncle and her dad got into a... Pretty bad fight, where Coriolanus accused John's wife to be a "weird phenomenon" and that he was glad she was dead. He also mentioned Mikaela, and John didn't took it well. Her aunts had to separate them.

That was the last time Nicola saw Mikaela.

Two days later, with her emotions mixed and not even knowing what to feel about the situation, let alone the fact that she had to dress like a grieving daughter for the interview with Vogue in a few hours, she had her first glimpse of magic in the middle of an argument with her dad. The cherry of the cake, you may say.

Since that day, Nicola was tamed by Coriolanus. He'd show her off, still spoiling her, but not acknowledging her at home. She stopped scaring her governesses off. She started acting more like him.

Because she wanted to win his favor. She wanted to be his daughter again. But what kind of love can come from the heart of a man towards a bastard? The daughter of a nosy traitor?

Nicola was three seconds away from crashing out. The prior events were still spiraling in her head. The funeral. Her mom. Vogue in a few hours. The funeral. Her mom. Vogue. Funeral. Mom. Vogue. A lover. And she was just nine years old!

Coriolanus, who always cared more about his businesses before his family, was, surprisingly, in the same room as her. And without a bribe or a threat in the middle. This time, he wasn't promising her a new skirt or another Ice Skating class. She wasn't asking for another impossible thing. She was pacing back and forth, stressed, and he was standing in the doorframe, rehearsing the interview.

"She ran away with a lover." And, for the first time in her life, Nicola contradicted him.
"No, she didn't."
"Nicola."
"Dad."
"You knew her. You knew what she was capable of. That's what the media knows, and you'll play the role."
"But it's not the truth!"
"No one cares about the truth, Nicola. They care about the views."

And just before Nicola could say another word to keep arguing with him, the weirdest thing happened.

The big window next to Nicola's bed frosted over. Small, beautiful ice webs appeared in the frames. Which would've been a wonderful sight... If they were in winter. But it was spring. A lovely spring, if I may add.

It lasted a few seconds before coming back to normal. Nicola thought she imagined it, until she looked back at her dad. Coriolanus had the same cold face he got the night Margery left. The same look.

Disappointed. He was disappointed of her. And in her nine years of life, Nicola felt it for the first time.

"Dad..."
He turned around, leaving the room.
"Dad!"
She ran behind him.
He barely stopped next to the butler.
"Get her ready. And don't let her be close to me."

That day, something changed inside the girl. Maybe it was that look in her dad's face. Maybe it was hurt. Maybe she wanted him to feel proud again. Whatever it was, Nicola was never the same after that event.

If you were to ask anyone about Nicola Parker, everyone would give you different versions of the same tale: For Vogue, she was the face of the future. For The New York Times, she'd definitely follow her dad's steps and become a businesswoman someday. For a common citizen who'd ever heard about her, they'd say it's just another spoiled nepobaby.

But there's one thing everyone agreed about: She was a Lovely Thing. Not just because of her looks or how gorgeous her voice was. No, it was because she had... Something in her. Something about her grace, her innocence, the exact shade of blue in her eyes, something made her impossible not to love.

And of course. Being born from the face of Coriolanus Hendricks' perfect wife didn't come with nothing: Nicola inherited almost all her beauty, from her perfect teeth, her eyes and her charm, to the grace she moved around with. There's just two things no one seems to know where they came from: Her blond hair, and her white, almost pale, compared to porcelain skin.

Skin that gave her the nickname "New York's doll" for the citizens, the kids that looked up to her. With an economist dad and a perfect mom, Nicola always had everything in the palm of her hand: Whatever she wanted, she got it. Whether if it was because of her beauty, her charisma, her joy, the fact that she was a kid or something else, it was anybody's guess.

Nicola has that ability, that magic, that charm, that something that just makes people turn around. It's not just because of her father or the authority he thinks he has. No, that comes from herself. From that little thing, that little detail that always makes everyone fall into her words. Take her a few more pictures in the interviews. Laugh more easily. Talk more freely.

Being a kid makes people be less cautious with their words around you. Specially when you're a kid like Nic. People like the staff at the interviews or the photo sessions tend to talk around her more freely, usually getting so distracted they forgot their usual decency, and spilling up some gossip while they made her makeu, like accidentally talking about who cheated on who with who, or who they just discovered an affair about. Secrets she shouldn't know. Secrets only the makeup staff or the photography staff should know.

Secrets she took for herself. Secrets she used when she needed to. And who could have the heart to deny a purse to that cute little girl, if said girl knew about an affair with the owner of the store? No one trusts kids. Kids always tell the truth, right? What if she said something she shouldn't?

It was no secret that Nicola Parker had a certain aura that just made people spin around her. Whether if it was because of her charm, or because she was such a lovely little thing, she always managed to get what she wanted, how she wanted it, and when she wanted it.