"So, professor, do potions require words of magic to work? Is that why herbal medicine isn't widely used anymore? Because humans don't possess magic?"
"Well," I sighed, "yes and no. You see, everyone holds a bit of magic in them. Whether or not that magic is viable to be used for anything in the physical world is another thing. It is a matter of will and emotional strength. Do I think you could become proficient in draughts? Sure, but do you wish to become proficient in draughts? That is a different question."
Amelia stared back at me as she cradled a steaming cup of tea between her thin fingers. Her ghostly grey eyes were wide and calculating, as if she were committing each of my words to memory.
Finally she nodded; "I suppose that makes sense," she breathed. "But mother never said I'd have any inkling for magic. Logic and intuition. Those are my strengths."
"Your mother is not fond of the occult," I said, whisking books back onto the shelves of the study. "She prefers to do things with her hands. Feel the change she makes in history between her fingers. A practical woman. It's no wonder she would never discuss magic with you."
"But you say I could be good at it?"
"I don't see why not. You are a daughter of Athena. There is likely not many with as strong of a will as you."
She smiled at that and clutched her cup tighter. "Will you teach me?" She asked quietly.
The softness of her voice caught my eyes as I turned to face her. There was vulnerability in it. A distinct crave for acceptance and approval.
My head nodded before my brain could weigh the pros and cons of this agreement. "Yes," I said too quickly, "of course; I can try."
"I'd love to learn," she admitted. I knew. It was her nature to seek out any and all knowledge she could find. She'd already run through my collection of books and asked if I'd acquired any new ones since her last visit.
"I know," I said firmly. "So learn you shall."