Freya didn't say anything for a moment, but rather just stared at him, not knowing what to say. Her head was hanging low, very rarely did she not have a response.
Freya listened as her professors voice seemed to change slightly, 'It's almost like it's scripted.' She thought to herself. Still a bit confused about the people he was mentioning, but it didn't matter.
"You're right, Sir." She said quietly after a moment, and repaired her damaged skin on her fingers. "I don't accept failure very gracefully. I suppose it's because whenever I lost, to my mother, she would always rub it in. Make it that much worse for me to hear, to understand."

"And I'll admit that I'm not a very confident person either." Freya continued. "It took me until the time I entered Diagon Alley a few weeks ago to start coming out of my shell a bit. Interacting with other people who were around my own age for once. Not hunch over wherever I went, or be too afraid to talk to someone even when I needed help. I think I've made quite a bit of improvement in that respect though."

Freya looked up again, a guilty look on her face. "You don't have to go out of your way for me, Sir. I've already taken up enough of your time as it is. And I'm sure you have enough on your plate already without me interfering further." She glanced at the castle again, it remained very still inside and out, not a soul in sight. "And I don't think my mother would approve of another person training me anyway. She, um, likes to take care of things herself." Freya said, hoping it would deter her professor from offering again. 'He wouldn't approve of her methods anyway.'
"Unless something were to go very wrong at my home, Sir. I would like to keep what experiments my mother and I have classified. It's nothing personal, it's just precaution."

'A gift?' Freya thought suddenly, becoming nervous for a moment, 'Those never turn out good.' But her fear vanished instantly as she witnessed herself as a very young child with an older man. He was quite tall, with dark brown hair that was slightly unruly, and he had a kind face. 'That's my dad.' Freya thought as she watched for a brief moment. 'I look so much like him.' She could feel her throat swell up again, feel tears come to her eyes, but they didn't fall. As the image vanished, her shock turned into curiosity again, "How did you do that?"