Year: 7th House: Ravenclaw

Birthday: 13th of February 1873 (Age 18) Zodiac Sign: Aquarius

Height: 5,3 Bloodline: Half-Blood

Nationality: Serbian-Croatian

Siblings: Kristjan Viktor Tesla (Younger Brother)

Nika Elizabeta Tesla was born in Smiljan into a large Serbian family where curiosity was encouraged, but attention was scarce. One of many children, she learned early that if something was going to be built, fixed, or understood, she would have to do it herself.

So she did.

While other children played, Nika dismantled. Clocks, tools, wires—anything she could take apart, she would. Not always to improve it. Not even always to put it back together properly. For Nika, the act of understanding mattered more than the result. If something sparked, hummed, or almost worked, it was already a success.

She grew up alongside her younger brother, Kristjan—“Krle”—whom she practically raised. Where their mother was overwhelmed, Nika stepped in without being asked. She taught him how to write, how to observe, how to be unafraid of the unknown. When he brought her jars filled with insects, she didn’t recoil—she leaned closer. Together, they studied wings like blueprints, turning fragile creatures into something mechanical, something understandable. And when the sun set, they always let them go.

Her early exposure to invention was shaped in part by her uncle, Nikola Tesla, whose work and presence cast a quiet, electric influence over her childhood. Where others saw genius as something distant and polished, Nika saw it as something alive—unpredictable, unfinished, and a little dangerous. She took that idea and made it her own.

She later attended Durmstrang Institute, where discipline, control, and rigid hierarchy defined success. Nika excelled—but not in the way the school valued. Her brilliance was undeniable, but her refusal to conform made her a problem rather than a prodigy. More importantly, she watched what that environment did to Kristjan. The sharpness in him dulled. The curiosity quieted.

So she made a decision.

Without permission, without warning, Nika packed their things and left.

She chose Hogwarts not for reputation, but for possibility. It was a place where curiosity was not punished, where her brother could exist without being reshaped into something smaller.

Sorted into Ravenclaw, Nika found herself exactly where she belonged—and immediately refused to behave like it. She argued with professors, challenged methods, and treated structure as a suggestion rather than a rule. Her inventions became infamous: half-finished, unpredictable, occasionally explosive. She rarely documented her work properly. She didn’t see the point. The process mattered. The outcome was optional.

Her right arm became her notebook—covered in symbols, formulas, fragments of ideas she refused to lose. If something mattered, she made it permanent.

Nika is not driven by legacy, approval, or perfection. She does not care if her work is understood, completed, or even successful by conventional standards.

But she is not careless.

Because when it comes to Kristjan, she is precise. Protective. Unwavering.