Chapter Text
Penelope Park was trouble. At least that’s what her parents said, and her teachers, and that one really angry old lady. Penelope didn’t agree with them, she was a perfectly well behaved child.
Her teachers just didn’t understand that the pace they were teaching her at was way too slow. Ranting on and on about the physics and science and chants required to summon a single drop of water or a tiny piece of dirt. Penelope was six, not stupid. She could do all the basics of elemental summoning by the time she could walk, and now is ready for far more advanced things than basic theory. That’s not even to mention the uncanny way she could control anything to do with air currents, and was well into the wind magic that even experts wouldn’t count out. Penelope was a prodigy, not a problem, thank you very much.
With that very angry old lady, Penelope didn’t really know how to classify that problem. Her family didn’t believe when she told them the lady had red eyes, they wouldn’t believe her about any of the other stuff. She couldn’t really tell her family that danger radiated off the sweet old lady that dropped her bags in the grocery store. That the second she saw the old lady the hair on her arm was on edge, and static mixed with adrenaline flowed through her veins. That in the middle of the grocery store every fiber of Penelope's being screamed at her to either run, or well, do something that scared her.
And Penelope's parents, that’s a topic better not unpacked.
Penelope Park was not trouble, but she was bored. And when she was bored, Penelope did things that got her into trouble. Like what she was doing right now, sneaking into her parents office. Penelope was combing through a stack of books that her parents had not specifically told her not to read but Penelope would bet all of her money that if she asked if she could read them a hour lecture would follow about “the dangers of doing magic way above your level” and the very interesting books would be gone the next morning to a secure vault with a lock even Houdini couldn’t pick.
The book Penelope was reading right now was a dusty leather bound book titled, “ Ancient magic and spells”. It had some interesting theories but so far nothing Penelope could try out, until she got to a page with a spell written out.
A mischievous smile broke across the young girl's face, as she stared down at the page, “how to talk to the most powerful witch on Earth”. It had to be a way to communicate with Freya Mikealson, every witch that knew anything knew Freya was the greatest witch of all time.
If Penelope did some old version of facetime and was able to talk to Freya, maybe the great witch would be so impressed that she would teach Penelope some spells. And with spells from the great Freya Mikealson herself Penelope’s parents would have no choice but to teach their gazes away from her brother and pay attention to her for once.
Penelope started to chant in Latin, and slowly but surely a connection opened in what seemed to be something that looked suspiciously like a rainbow.
“I’m Penelope Park!” The six year old exclaimed before the connection was even fully established, and her face dropped as she saw the lady in the mist. It wasn’t Freya.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” a soft voice chuckled from the connection. “Now Penelope, both how and why did you contact me.”
“I’m sorry, there was this spell in the really old book and it was supposed to connect me to the greatest witch of time,” Penelope’s face was red and she started to ramble. “I guess that it was wrong because I got you and not Freya Mikealson and all I really wanted was to have a teacher to teach me magic so I could show my parents that I wasn’t useless and that I matter. I know you wouldn’t want to teach me and I’m so sorry to bother you but this old Ancient magic and spells book didn’t tell me how to cancel this connection.” Penelope stopped when she ran out of breath.
The woman's face went from amused to annoyed. “Freya! You think Freya is better than me! I know that spell and that book, and the spell isn’t wrong!”
“But Freya Mikealson is Freya Mikealson!” Penelope Park was never one not to speak her mind.
“I guess I could teach you some magic, if only to show that I’m better than Freya freaking Mikealson!”
Penelope was excited to finally have a teacher even if it wasn’t Freya, “Really? I’ll do my best and won’t let you down.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” The women smiled. “You can call me Circe.”
Penelope Park may not be trouble, but Circe was and that’s how all Penelope’s troubles started. On her father’s side at least.