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VIOLA RHIA TEMPETE

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“Why be a wallflower when you can be a Venus flytrap?” -Venus Fly Trap by Marina

SCHOOL ══════════ Beauxbatons	YEAR ══════════ Fourth Year	BLOOD STATUS ══════════ Pureblood	GENDER ══════════ Cisgender Female
ORIENTATION ══════════ Panromantic	SPECIES ══════════ Human	AGE ══════════ Thirteen	BIRTHDAY ══════════ 23/08/2008
RESIDENCE ══════════ Bordeaux, France	BLOOD TYPE ══════════ O+	CLASS ══════════ Upper	DOMINANT HAND ══════════ Right

“Shimmering beautiful / And when I break it's in a million pieces” -Mirrorball by Taylor Swift

PERSONALITY ══════════ Reducio Before Viola is Viola, she is a Tempete. There are many expectations that come with that surname, and she spends every waking moment attempting to fill in the shoes her parents have so-carefully designed for her. Tempetes are intelligent and powerful and command attention without effort. They're ambitious and take any means to achieve their ends. They exude elegance, charisma and confidence. There are many things a Tempete is, meaning there is many things Viola must be. However, without the influence of her family name, Viola hasn't had many opportunities to develop her own personality. If you sat her down and asked her who Viola was without her family, she would have no answer. She's smart and competitive and social and confident, but how much of that identity can she call her own and not her parent's, she cannot be sure. She's kinder than her parents, although she's gotten used to repressing that side of her around them, and she gets confused if she considers their ideals of superiority or tradition for too long; she finds it easier to indulge the idea that her family is better than others instead of questioning why. She likes reading, studying, spellcasting, fashion, playing the harp and- at least whenever her parents aren't watching and her art tutors feel like indulging her- sculpting. She’s terrified of her parents but needs their approval before she needs air or water or food. She's curious and earnest and observant (and a little spiteful sometimes, just for the fun of it), but all that is Viola, and once again, Viola is a Tempete before all else.

APPEARANCE ══════════ Reducio Viola has fair skin with neutral undertones and long, brown, half-straight, half-wavy hair she often wears in a half-up, half-down style. She has baby blue eyes, defined, arched eyebrows and a small, up-turned nose. Her height is average for her age, and in terms of weight she further leans towards the lean side.

HISTORY ══════════ Reducio Viola was born in a hospital in Bordeaux, France, on a late afternoon the 23rd of August, to parents Lucien Tempete and Lola Thorne. Even as a child, she had a lot of pressure put on her to be the very best, by both her family and everyone else. The Tempetes were old-money and owned the largest wine business in all of Europe, and her mother was the founder of a major perfume and jewellery business. Although both the Tempete and Thorne families were purebloods, they found that their individual businesses thrived in muggle environments. Despite this, neither families held respect for muggles, seeing them to be inferior to wizards. They also discriminated against anyone whose blood they declared impure, meaning Viola was raised in a majorly “pro-pureblood, anti-everyone-else” household. Viola's views on the topic are vague and undecided, and although she desperately wants to agree with her family, her personal research shows that there is no reasonable reason to find non-purebloods to be inferior. She pretends to hate them to keep her parents happy; in a family like hers, sacrifices have to be made. Before she turned 11, Viola was homeschooled for the whole of her education by the most prestigious tutors. They taught her about magic theory, magic history, quidditch and magical creatures, as well as muggle history, economical studies, maths, French, science and languages, ranging far from English to German. Viola did outstandingly in each subject. However, that was not enough. Her entire life, she was pushed to be good enough to carry her family's name. She had to live up to the successes of her parents. Her mother’s life had been a typical rags-to-riches story, going from living in a tiny apartment in Normandy with her parents and two sisters to starting her own largely successful perfume and jewellery company, leading to her being one of the richest women in the country. Lola had spent her Beauxbatons education bypassing all her peers in grades and playing as the seeker of the school’s Quidditch team. Lucien had inherited the family business and estate, and since having done so, tripled their profits. Much like Viola’s mother, he had been an overachiever at school, and a prefect.

FIRST MAGIC ══════════ Reducio Viola showed her first instance of magic earlier than her peers. She was grateful; she was too young to know how disowning worked, but she knew her parents wouldn’t appreciate a squib child. She had been 2, and so did not remember it well, but her parents loved to brag about it to others, so she had a vague idea as to what had happened. According to her parents, she had found a flower she had liked and had made it float and change colours. The truth was that her parents had locked her in a room with the flower for multiple hours until she had finally exploded open the locked door, but Viola had been two at the time. However could she have known?

	TRUNK
STATISTICS stamina - 6 evasion - 9 strength - 6 wisdom - 11 arcpower - 7 accuracy - 11 ACTIVITIES broom Racing - No duelling - No quidditch - Yes	ABILITIES year one | charmer Reducio Viola is charming. She knows when to smile at he right time, when to speak, when to not, she knows how to take someone's attention and keep it. She has to; it's not like she has a choice. For years she's been groomed to become the perfect daughter, conversationalist and business owner. To achieve her full potential, Viola must be charming. She mustn't speak unless she has something good to say. She mustn't express her opinion if others do not agree with it. She must smile and be polite and respectful. She must hold up the family reputation. She must be a Tempete. To do this, she must be charming. Thankfully for her, it comes naturally to Viola to create the illusion of charm, and if it takes a bit of manipulation, sacrifices must be made. She knows how to keep someone hooked, and she's not afraid to do so. She is flirtatious when she has to be and it would be a lie to say she does not enjoy it. She can be flattering and has mastered the art of manipulation and how to tell people exactly what they need to hear. She knows how to watch people and see what they react best to, and she knows how to display these things. She can seem charming, respectful and polite, and she is pretty good; it makes sense, considering she's been taught how to do it for years. It was one of the things her tutors taught her. How to charm. It is important to be persuasive, likeable and agreeable. It is important if she is to truly be a Tempete. And that's all she's ever wanted. Her natural beauty only adds to her charm. She knows she is aesthetically appealing, and she's long learned how to use that to her advantage. She takes good care of her skin and hair, and chooses clothes which do nothing but complement her looks, discomfort or not. Her charm promises future opportunities, and she is not afraid to use it to get what she wants. Although she's never really had a crush- good grief, she is too emotionally distant to care about people in that way- if she ever did, she would turn their heads around. After joining Beauxbatons, the extends of her charm have rarely been put to use, as she only needs to put enough charm to have a consistent reputation amongst her fellow students. A time where her charm was fully put to use would be before she joined the school, when she was younger. She used to come to some of her parents' business meetings, as a way of creating emotional appeal. year two | lovely creature Reducio Viola is conventionally attractive. To her, this is a weapon and a tactic. Her long, brown hair is silky in texture and is well-cared for. Viola spends about 45 minutes on it every day, which could be used for other things, but it pays off. Her hair is always in good condition and she is often complimented on it. Her large, baby blue eyes are a nice contrast to her fair skin, which lacks acne due to a methodical, consistent and complicated skin care routine. Her nose is small and fits nicely with the rest of her face. She often wears perfumes produced by her mother's company, which means she smells as good as she looks. Viola's mother often had her model some of the jewellery produced by her company. This began when she was 6. As a child, this made Viola curious. Why was she modelling when her mother could simply employ someone far older who would actually be paid? It just didn't make sense. It was bad for business to have children work, or any workers be unpaid. One would be child labour while the other would be slavery. Both would be unethical, and could be the cause of a significant lawsuit. Viola knew this only because she had learnt about it in her economic studies class. Her mother replied dismissively, "Look, darling, you're young and you're beautiful. Your skin is clear, your hair is smooth. We use your beauty to attract customer. Easy. And they cannot see your face, or your entire body all at once; nobody will be able to tell that you aren't an adult employee." That was a lot of things to unpack for Viola. First of all, "you're beautiful" had been the first time Viola's mother had ever complimented her. Second, it rose the idea that you could break the law and ignore basic ethics as long as it met your goal. Ambition and determination was key. Third of all, and possibly the most important point, it brought up the idea of using her beauty, a gift, as a weapon, a tactic. Soon, she began realising that a lot of people thought she was aesthetically appealing. And she began wondering how she could use it to her advantage. It's how the flirting began for the precocious young child. It's how she realised she could use her beauty to use people. It's how her manipulation began. Because she was a lovely creature, and not using that to her advantage could be damned. year three | perfectionist Reducio You remember when you were seven years old. Your defensive spell-casting teacher scowls at you as he waits for you to get your wand movement right. He tells you you're doing it wrong. He refuses to explain how you can do it right. It should make you feel angry. It certainly makes you feel confused. But you keep trying, because that's just the way things are. Honestly, your defensive spell-casting teacher is better than your potions one. He never raises his voice, for example. But you've grown among aristrocrats, so his passive aggressiveness strikes in a way that's almost worse. You asked to view his credentials when he became your tutor. His career and education was far greater than the potion tutor's. But the more you feel his glare burning into your arm, the less you care. You're not even casting real magic. The thing you're holding, although it could be confused for one, is only a realistic replica of a real wand. You're too young to be casting real magic. If anything makes you feel angry, it's probably that. You've always been a dutiful student, though, and you do enjoy theory in most cases. But you know too much about magic to never have used it, and you have to admit that makes you angry sometimes. It took you a while to identify the emotion, but that's what it is; anger. Hesitant, tentative, but anger nevertheless. Mother tell you that when you get angry, you should keep quiet, and observe. Everyone has weak spots, she tells you sometimes. When you're angry at them, you find their weak spots and make them regret ever angering you. You're not sure what you should do about this anger though, because it's not really directed at anyone. Your tutors are only doing their job, following orders, and if you got angry at that, you'd be a hypocrite. Your parents are not the ones to direct your anger at, because they're your parents. You know they only want the best for you. So, you push the anger deep down, and you concentrate. You try to remember the way your tutor talked about the wand movement of the spell. You stop fully, thinking through every flick of his wrist, the way his hands held the smooth wood of his wand. You're almost certain you hear him take that passive aggressive tone again after the confusion at your lack of movement fades away, but you can't be sure. You're not concentrating on him. You take a deep breath, four counts in, five out. You adjust your grip on the wand, and you try again. You think you did it correctly, but looking at your tutor's expression, you did not. He mutters a word underneath his breath that you vaguely recognise as a word your father told you was not "fit for a Tempete." It is a matter of horrid luck that this is when your mother decides is the best time to check in on you. She does this with your lessons once every week, and it frustrates you that you excel in all classes and she has seen you during the one time so far in the entire week when you have been struggling. She takes your tutor aside for a quick chat about your progress. Your tutor explains dutifully, with a look of admiration and worship in his eyes. He looks like he's mildly afraid but fully respecting of your mother, like she is a god in his eyes. Is that what you look like? Your mother is a woman who commands fear, admiration and respect. It's as if she rules every ground she steps on, and the charm that oozes from her presence makes everyone act as if that where the case. One day you will be like her. She strides up to you, her expression transformed from a generally content to a neutral one. She strides, because your mother's name is Lola Thorne, and Lola Thorne doesn't walk, she strides. And it's because you have grown up with Lola Thorne as her mother that you know a "neutral" expression is not one of indifference, it's one of seething rage. Maybe that's also the reason you feel the sudden need to run and never look back. But you won't even entertain that possibility, because it's not one worth entertaining. "Mr Vermeulen, could you please leave my daughter and I," you know better than to interrupt and correct her grammar, "and wait outside? We should only be a moment." Your tutor nods with more force and intensity than you think someone of his age should. You don't say that though, because it would be rude, and you're too busy trying not to leave with him. You want nothing more than to leave, or at least look down, look away, look anywhere but at your mother's eyes, for in them lies disappointment. But you're a Tempete, and Tempete's make direct eye contact, and don't run away. Tempete's establish authority. You don't feel particularly authoritative right now. The moment your tutor is out of the room, your mother snaps to you. "Darling, you must understand, this cannot happen. You cannot struggle, you cannot fail. You are a Tempete, and that is a privilege, but not a right. You have not earned that right yet, and if you continue like this, you never will. You realise your father and I only wish the best for you?" You've done it. You've messed up the single rule. There's nothing much to what you have to do. Just two things; live up to the Tempete legacy, and never disappoint your parents. It's not that hard! You achieve the second when you achieve the first! It should be easy! Why isn't it easy? "Yes, mother. Of course." "Then you must understand that when we want the best for you, we expect the best from you. Anything below the best is failure, and Tempete's are not, and will not be, failures." You nod, because you think that if you talk, you might scream. "And if you're a failure... Well then, are you a Tempete at all?" You freeze, and you know you would drop dead if your breath left your body, but maybe you should double check that, because you're fairly certain it just did. Your mother turns without so much as a second glance, pausing as her hand touches the door handle. "I love you, dear. But I love this family too, and I will not tolerate anything that risks its fall." You nod, and your mind is blank but too full at the same time, and it hurts. And you realise who you're angry at. You realise who you should be angry at. Yourself. Perfection is reachable if you try hard enough, so you're clearly not trying hard enough. It's like the piece has clicked, and you feel a certain satisfaction. If the problem is you, then it can be controlled. So you'll control it, and you'll be perfect, and you'll live up to the Tempete name, and mother will never have to say 'darling' with a mix of disgust and disappointment. So you do that. For years, and years, and years. You push yourself. Failure has never been an option for a Tempete, and the moment it becomes an option is the moment you know you'll never be enough to carry that name. One could call you an overachiever, a perfectionist. You'd rather just call yourself Viola Rhea Tempete. year four | spell spread Reducio Viola was fully aware of her talent as a spellcaster, but it was hard not to want to chase further power, especially with her upbringing. Magic flowing her was something that made her feel strong, something that made her feet feel perfectly grounded. Runners had runner’s high, alcoholics had their moments before the hangover hit, adrenaline junkies had the rush of energy that came with risk, and Viola had magic. She was an earnest learner, a fact remarked upon by all her tutors, magical and non-magical alike, and she learned fast. So when, over the holidays, Viola discovered yet another show of magical prowess, she was quick to want to discover and try it for herself. The ability to split your spells in two, hitting two targets at the speed and energy of one? Viola needed to learn how. She cast possibly a hundred Flipendos in their house’s training room, recording her observations and occasionally getting her tutors to come in and give notes. She tried getting an understanding of her existing skill, and the skill needed to achieve her goal. Her spells were accurate and careful, sure, but they weren’t big enough. They had to become stronger. She had to have all the grandeur in the world, and that meant making sacrifices, so she began focusing less on accuracy and more on pure force. It took weeks before she produced any effects around the calibre she was hoping for. It wasn’t enough, because nothing had ever been enough for Viola Tempete, but it was something and she couldn’t help but be excited. The practice was paying off, that much was abundantly clear. Still, there was more work to be done. Slowly she began sacrificing the rest of her studies for it. Of course, she never let herself fall too far behind (any significant falls of performance would result in the contact of her mother, and Viola really couldn’t have that, especially not while she was so, so painfully close to reaching the splendour she oh-so-needed), she never would, but it was clearly noticeable; soon she found herself met with strange, concerned looks from her tutors, asking her whether she was okay and when she had last slept. Maybe she was getting a little obsessed, but she was naturally ambitious; after all, determination was part of a package deal with her surname. If she fell slightly behind, and began skipping out on some meals and events, it wasn’t anything of the level her parents would notice, so it was alright. She still regretted not being able to record the exact time her hard work paid off. It hadn’t happened at the click of a button, rather a result of pain and practice and almost-quitting for over two months, and she hadn’t realised when, but she had gotten it. Practising with dummies, she could set two on fire with a single Incendio Duo, and the feeling consuming her couldn’t be described as anything but glee.