GENERAL INFORMATION
Full Name: Lydia Aveline Greyson Birthdate | Current Age: 15 January | 33 years old Birthplace: Cardiff, Wales Current Residence: London, England Spoken Languages: English, French, Welsh Gender: Female Pronouns: She/Her/Hers Sexual Orientation: Bisexual Occupation: Department of Mysteries, Keeper of the Hall of Prophecy
APPEARANCE/PERSONALITY
Height: 5′8″ | 173 cm. Weight: 125 lbs. | 57 kg. Hair: Light brown, with golden highlights Eyes: Blue Hazel Complexion: Bright + beige, with earthy undertones Build: Slim, slender, and petite Personality: Caring, Gentle, Intuitive, Quixotic, Sensitive + Sheltered Zodiac: Capricorn Sun, Virgo Moon, Cancer Rising Faceclaim: Elizabeth Lail
MAGICAL BACKGROUND
Blood Status: Halfblood Species: Human/Witch | Seer Wand: 11″ Poplar | Phoenix Feather Core | Bendy Flexibility Amortentia: Bergamot + lavender, peppermint, roasted almonds + the ocean. Boggart: Her grandparent’s cottage, engulfed in flames, as her family and loved ones are trapped inside. Patronus: Dun Mare Education: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry | Hufflepuff Alignment: Neutral/Order Supporter
BIOGRAPHY
CHILDHOOD AND HOGWARTS YEARS: A surprise. A delight. A beaming and joyful wide-eyed wonder. That is how Lydia’s parents would describe the arrival of their daughter, to anyone who would listen (and even those who weren’t particularly interested). It had been their long-time dream to bring a child into the world, but their careers as world-renowned magizoologists and Ministry consultants had taken precedence over expanding their family. Having thought themselves to be long past their child-bearing years, they were elated to discover the prospect of bringing a child into the world was no longer a far-fetched dream but a tangible reality.
As a child, Lydia lived without a care in the world. Accompanying her parents on their travels when she could, though she spent the majority of her childhood residing with her grandparents. She missed them, as any child would, but Mamgu and Tadcu made wonderful companions, making sure she wanted for nothing in the absence of her parents. A vivaciously curious child, she spent the majority of her days outdoors, exploring the grounds around their cottage, running as far and as fast as her legs would take her. It hadn’t been the most traditional upbringing, but its simplicity was refreshing and idyllic all the same.
It was at the age of six when things started to shift, in what would become a profound and life-changing way. It was at this age that Lydia experienced a vision, her first of many, happening a few days before the summer solstice. Being wholly unfamiliar with the sensations it accompanied, she hadn’t been sure to make of the experience. Rushing into her grandfather’s study, she was short of breath as she recounted the details, speaking with vivid clarity of a cloaked figure who spoke in strange riddles. As the weeks went on, the incidents and their symptoms continued with increasing regularity, the signs quickly becoming too impossible to ignore. As much as the incidents could have been dismissed as the overly imaginative musings of a child, her family knew better. Lydia was a Seer, the first in generations, the arrival of whom had been long foretold.
Arriving at Hogwarts, Lydia was both enamoured by its beauty and overwhelmed at its vastness. Emerging through the doors of the Great Hall, it became clear that the rest of the world was much different than the small corner she occupied back home. Still, she couldn’t help but grow eager at the prospect of exploring all that her new surroundings had to offer. Though intuitive and inquisitive, she was equally courteous and compassionate, and the latter tendencies had been what earned her place among the fair and the just. It wasn’t long before she found her home among her Hufflepuff housemates, realizing that this is where she was meant to be. There was much to learn, and even more to experience, and she spent the seven years that followed immersing herself in the wonder of it all.
DURING THE WIZARDING WAR:
A lover more than a fighter, she was hardly eager to step upon the battlefield. Instead, she opted to take a passive role in supporting the Order, spending the time she wasn’t working at the local apothecary caring for her grandparents. Initially, her efforts to avoid the war by way of relative seclusion had been successful. The coastal village was a mostly secluded one, save for the few families who still remained, most of whom never ventured outside the vicinity of the village. Lydia was more than content in remain with the safety and solemnity of her little bubble. Things were simple there, and for a time, they remained that way. But as with all good things, this, too, had come to an end, the inevitable losses of war crashing down upon an otherwise simplistic existence.
By all other accounts, it appeared to be an average morning, just like any other. As she did every morning, Lydia had spent its early hours working in the greenhouse, tending to its plants with her usual diligence and care. Starting on her work with the last of the dittany plants, a pop emerged in the field behind her. She had dismissed it, assuming it was the shop owner coming to inspect her profess, or one of the neighbors stopping by for tea. But before she could give it much thought, Alastor Moody burst inside, nearly breaking the door off its hinges as he rushed towards her. A man she had grown up with, though this had been the first time they interacted on what appeared to be official business. With hurried breaths, he explained that she was in imminent danger, and they needed to get her to safety immediately. Lydia hadn’t even been able to begin to ask what this was about before an overnight bag was thrown at her and they apparated to what she later learned was an Order safehouse. After a frantic insistence on her part, he eventually explained there had been a series of attacks in the early hours of the morning, with no remaining survivors. Then, in an increasingly solemn tone, he announced that both her parents and grandparents had been both among the casualties. Hardly a shock to anyone knew of their reputation in the Ministry, but an earth-shattering tragedy for Lydia, who was now the sole survivor of the Greyson family. In a matter of hours, she had gone from being relatively untouched by the war, to having it shatter her world completely.
In the weeks and months that followed, Lydia had become a shadow of her former self. Her sunny and cheerful disposition was replaced by one of quiet anguish, the result of her grief and the visions that haunted her constantly. Barely able to function, she would have succumbed to her despair, had it not been for the owners of the safehouse and their willingness to take her in, caring for her as one of their own. Somehow, through the seemingly unending grief that accompanied such profound loss, she managed to survive. Not well, and only by the teeth of her skin, but somehow, she endured.
WHERE ARE THEY NOW: Most had found some level of relief or comfort once Voldemort was finally defeated, but not Lydia. In the years leading to the war’s conclusion, the world as she knew it crashed down upon her, leaving nothing but pain and destruction in its wake. In the fallout, she had been left with more questions than answers, particularly when it came to the specifics of her family’s murders. She had her suspicions, as did those assigned to their case, each theory as contradictory as they were outlandish. With no leads or evidence that would warrant a criminal trial, there was little that could be done. There would be no answers, no closure, and worst of all, no justice for those she loved most. The dust eventually settled, and Lydia was forced to do what she had been dreading: pick up what pieces still remained, as broken as they might be, and make something of her life.
