Lydia's Story

Lydia woke with a start. Sitting up, she blinked into the semi-darkness around her, unsure of what had woken her. Her room was bathed in silvery moonlight from a window next to her bed, and nothing seemed unusual or out of place. Lydia took a deep, steadying breath, and leaned back against her downy pillows. She stared at her ceiling, all thoughts of sleep gone. The Bulgarian night air streamed in through her open window, carrying with it the scent of summer flowers.

This was not the first night that Lydia had found her sleep disturbed by nervous thoughts. Ever since the Ministry of Magic had affirmed that Voldemort had indeed returned, many wizarding families found peaceful sleep hard to come by. Even in Bulgaria, far from the scene of Voldemort's last sighting, the atmosphere was tense.

Realizing that sleep was futile, Lydia kicked off her blankets and rose from her bed. Looking at the clock on her bedside table, she saw that it was just past midnight. Groaning, she stood up and paced her room restlessly, hoping to burn off her energy.

The room was large, and filled with many things. An empty owl cage stood open on her dresser while her owl was out hunting. Like many teens, her walls were lined with pictures; posters of the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team, whose uniform-clad members were sleeping noisily on the pitch; photographs of family, some of which were also sleeping in their frames, while others blinked sleepily at her, apparently woken by her wanderings; and, posted in the centre of her wall, an enlarged photo of herself with her school House team, clad in Quidditch robes, now sleeping in the middle of the Quidditch pitch, mountains rising in the background.

Quidditch was the only part of school she really enjoyed. She had never wanted to go to Durmstrang, but it was tradition on her father's side. Her mother, on the other hand, had been born and raised in Hogsmeade, and had hoped that her daughter, like her, would attend Hogwarts. There had been a lot of debate in their household before her first year about where she would attend. In the end her father had won, pointing out that Hogwarts was much too far away.

Lydia's legs soon grew tired of pacing, but her mind was still wide awake.

Water, Lydia thought at last. I'll get a drink of water, maybe then I'll be able to sleep.

Not wanting to disturb her parents, she decided against summoning the house-elf. Moving to the door, she opened it and walked silently to the flight of stairs leading down to the kitchen. Only once she reached the head of the stairs did she hear her parent's voices below. Stopping, she listened to the voices, which were speaking earnestly from the kitchen.

"He sent an owl this morning," she heard her mother say. "He says that a transfer can be arranged, seeing the current circumstances..." Her voice trailed off nervously.

"Vell, I still think this is very unnecessary," her father replied, his voice thick with his Bulgarian accent. "She vill still be safe vhere she is. Ve don't need to make her move."

"She won't mind!" her mother said. "This is what she wanted, remember? She'll be happy!"

"That vas before," her father continued stubbornly. "She has been there for five years, she vill not vant to change now."

There was a brief silence. "I guess the only way to know for sure is to ask her," her mother said finally. "I just know I would feel a lot better knowing she was under his watch. He was the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of."

"If she decides this is vat she vants, I vill not stop her. Now, Angela, ve vill go to bed. Ve vill ask her in the morning."

Lydia heard the chairs scraping against the floor as her parents rose from the table. Quietly, she hurried back to her room and shut the door.

*~*~*~*~*

The next morning, Lydia awoke with a feeling of anticipation. Far from calming her down, her quest for water had made sleep nearly impossible to come by, and she had not fallen asleep until long past midnight. All the same, she was eager to hear what her parents had to say and barely noticed her lack of sleep.

Her parents were already in the dining room when she dressed and went down for breakfast. Her mother's long blonde hair was tied back in a hurried bun, and her father's black hair, so much like her own, looked unbrushed. They had been sitting close together, heads bowed and talking in hushed voices. They both stopped abruptly when Lydia entered the room.

"Good morning, darling," her mother said hurriedly, standing up to give her daughter a hug. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, "Lydia said impulsively. Catching herself, she decided to be straightforward. "No, actually. What were you two talking about last night?" She felt that she already knew, but she wanted to be sure.

Her parents exchanged glances before answering. "Vy didn't you tell us you vere listening?" her father said at last, his green eyes narrowing under his thick eyebrows.

Lydia shrugged calmly. "You said you would speak to me in the morning anyway."

Angela sighed as the house-elf placed a plate heaped with food at the table for her daughter. She took a seat next to her husband, and Lydia sat across from her parents as she waited for their answer. "And we will tell you," Angela took her husbands hand in hers before continuing, her blue eyes meeting Lydia's identical ones.

"Darling, ever since the Ministry announced You-Know-Who's return, I've been worried about sending you back to school. Durmstrang, while a fine school, may not be as safe as I would like it to be. It's no secret that many of You-Know-Who's old supporters have attended there and send their children there. Of course, there are supporters from all schools, but Durmstrang has the darkest reputation, especially after the disappearance of Professor Karkaroff." Lydia's father shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The Meliflua family had attended Durmstrang for generations and, truthfully, had spawned more Death Eaters than any other local family.

His wife continued without noticing. "While You-Know-Who was in power before, there was only one man he was said to be afraid of: Albus Dumbledore. Now that You-Know-Who is back, and Dumbledore is once again Headmaster at Hogwarts, I would feel much better knowing you were at Hogwarts under his care. I sent an owl to Professor Dumbledore a few days ago, asking if you would be able to transfer to Hogwarts. I got his reply just yesterday, saying you were welcome if you wanted to transfer. Now the choice is yours, darling. Do you want to go to Hogwarts or remain at Durmstrang?"

*~*~*~*~*

Lydia was delighted. She had not wanted to guess the meaning of the conversation without first talking to her parents, but now she knew for sure: she would be leaving Durmstrang. She spent the morning in a state of happy disbelief. She watched as her mother wrote two letters; one to Durmstrang informing them that she would not be attending this year, and one to Hogwarts, confirming her application.

It was now mid-August, and her family began their preparations. In the last week of August, Lydia would go to stay with her Aunt Gail Nigellus in London, who would help her to get her supplies. From there, she would catch the Hogwarts Express to her new school. Lydia felt that the days couldn't go fast enough.

*~*~*~*~*

A few days before she planned to go to London, Lydia received an envelope from Hogwarts. In it was a letter of acceptance to Hogwarts, telling her that school began on the first of September, and a list of materials needed. She scanned the list of books. She selected in an earlier letter the courses she would be taking this year. It had been a wonderful feeling to leave the Dark Arts classes behind her. As well as new books, she saw that she would also need a new uniform.

"What things will you be bringing with you to London?" Angela called from the kitchen. Lydia sat on an ornate sofa in the living room, reading over her list.

"Almost everything," she replied. "I'll just be needing new books and a uniform."

"You better start packing, then," her mother said, peering into the room. "You'll be leaving the day after tomorrow."

Picking up her papers, Lydia made her way up to her room. Once inside, she unburied her trunk from beneath a pile of clothes. Under her orders, Delsky the house-elf grudgingly refrained from cleaning her room while she was preparing for her trip. Lydia wanted to pack for the trip herself, much to Delsky's dismay.

Opening the trunk, she began to pull out its contents one by one, throwing the things she wouldn't need into a corner. She threw aside her fur capes and her Dark Arts books (Crafty Curses for the Corrupted and History of the Infamous), glad to at last be rid of them. The things she would be taking to Hogwarts she put into her cauldron; her telescope, her crystal phials, and her brass scales. Digging through her trunk, she found some spare parchment and quills, and put them on the growing pile in the cauldron. The quills, though slightly ruffled from their time in the trunk, were made from the feathers of a peacock. They had been a gift from her parents for her success on her OWLs. While she wasn't the top of her classes, she had achieved "Exceeds Expectations" in most of her OWLs, except Dark Arts, where she barely scraped an "Acceptable", and Divination and Potions, where she earned an "Outstanding".

Reaching into her trunk, she pulled out the few remaining contents; some scrap pieces of parchment covered in scribbles, and her Firebolt. Her parents had always provided her with the best money could buy, and her broomstick was no exception. With her love of Quidditch, it was her most valued possession. She placed it next to her cauldron, treating it as though it was made of glass.

She put the supplies she would need back into her now-empty trunk, careful to put her quills and broomstick safely at the top. The trunk looked much more bare than it had before. As she closed the trunk, her bedroom door was pushed open and the house-elf stuck its head cautiously into the room.

"Is Young Mistress needing any help?" she asked tentatively in her high, squeaky voice, giving a low bow.

"No thank you, Delsky," Lydia said, brushing her hands on her clothes as she stood to her feet. "I just finished packing. You are free to clean my room again, so long as you don't move my trunk, wand, cauldron, or Mithra's cage," she added, gesturing to the cage on the dresser, now holding a sleeping great-horned owl.

"Certainly, Young Mistress!" Delsky squeaked happily, looking as though Christmas had come early. She gave another low bow and left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

*~*~*~*~*

Lydia spent the rest of her morning tearing through her room, looking for anything she might want or need at school. By the time she had finished, her walls had been stripped of her Quidditch posters, and her trunk had been loaded with her wizard chess set and random books.

Lydia flopped onto her bed, feeling tired. A few minutes passed in silence as she thought about what the year would bring, when her thoughts were interrupted by a knocking at her door.

"Come in," she called, expecting to see Delsky at the door. The door was opened, however, by her father, Raphael. He was once again his typical well-groomed self. His short black hair had been brushed and put carefully into place. He wore a tailored business suit, and was apparently on his way to work at the Ministry of Magic. He worked in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, in the Bulgarian Improper Use of Magic Office.

"Oh, it's you father," Lydia said, sitting up. "I thought it was Delsky."

"Have you finished your packing?" her father asked, looking sceptically at the messy room around him.

"Yes actually, I'm all ready. I'll be taking Mithra, my trunk, cauldron, and wand."

There was a brief silence. "So you are sure this is vat you vant?" he said at last. Lydia nodded firmly. Her father gave a small smile. "Vell then, I vill not stop you."

He crossed the room, and sat next to her on the bed. There was another moment of silence, as he gazed blankly out the window across from them. Finally he looked at his daughter, and gave another small smile. "You have grown a lot. You vill soon be sixteen, and now is the time to make your own decisions. You say you vant to go to Hogvarts, so I vill not stop you. But I vill varn you, outside of Durmstrang our family is not vell liked.

Our family has made a lot of mistakes, and people are not fast to forget."

He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a silver pendant on a chain, the size of the Lydia's palm. Across the top was the name Meliflua, stretching over the family coat of arms. A snake twisted its way around the shield, glaring and flicking its tongue. Beneath it were written the words: fort et fier.

"My father gave it to me ven I vas sixteen, and now I vill give it to you. You must remember vhere you're from, and more importantly, vhere you are going. Our family has made many mistakes, but that does not mean you have to follow their path. You can make the family name von to be proud of."

He put the pendant in Lydia's hand and rose from the bed. "I know you vill make us proud," he said again, patting her head. Then, without waiting for an answer, he turned and left the room.