Chapter 1
Lydia Prewett was a stubborn and determined child. When she wanted something she would take it. This was necessary growing up with seven siblings. Sometimes her avenue in achieving her goals was questionable at best. But it was no bother to her. Why would she wait and see what would happen when she could do it for herself?
Her mother’s family took her in when she was only two years old. The Weasley family to be precise. They were nice enough and loved her unconditionally. She loved them too but couldn’t help getting frustrated at their lack of tenacity. Even as a young child, she knew she wanted more out of life than second hand belongings and mediocracy. That’s why she was so eager to attend Hogwarts. It wouldn’t matter that she was poor if she could be the best witch they had ever seen. She could make money while she was there, or trick people into giving it to her. The Weasley’s would disapprove of her idiosyncratic skills. Good thing she wasn’t actually a Weasley. She was a Prewett. Well, her mother was a Prewett, she had no idea who her father was. It infuriated her that she had no answers besides her mother, Valerie, dying alongside her brothers during the war. No mention of her father whatsoever. Her sleek black hair and dark eyes stood out amongst her relatives with their impossibly red hair. She didn’t mind the discrepancies between them. If she was perfectly honest, she thought their hair was substandard. However, they were still her family and she put up with them.
Her childhood was spent playing quidditch, de-gnoming the garden, and playing wizards chess. Molly homeschooled all of her children, including Lydia, until they came of age for Hogwarts. The schooling was acceptable, although Lydia wished she could have had private tutors, the best of the best, teach her. She didn’t want to be unprepared. When her older siblings came home for summer holidays, she would persuade them to let her read their texts. Bill had always been willing to help her expand her knowledge, and she appreciated that. She had to admit that Bill was her favorite sibling. Although the same age as her, Ron was temperamental, unable to conceal his emotions or lie, and downright aggravating at times. Of course he had some favorable traits as well, he was loyal (almost to a fault) and had a good sense of humor. His negative traits heavily outweighed his positive ones in Lydia’s mind. She got along well with Percy, as he kept to himself. Charlie was acceptable. Fred and George were nuisances, even if she couldn’t help but be entertained by their antics. Ginny was sweet, and looked up to Lydia, so much so, that she felt suffocated by her little sister. Another reason why she wanted to go to Hogwarts.
The letter finally came in the mail around mid-july. Her mind was racing. It was finally here! What she had been waiting for her whole life. Her journey to higher knowledge and the first step to becoming a powerful witch. She constrained her elation and delicately opened it, carefully peeling the wax seal. Ron on the other hand, essentially destroyed his in the process. She carefully looked over the materials she would require. The good thing about being the first girl was that she would get new robes instead of hand-me-downs. Unfortunately, they couldn’t afford to buy either her or Ron a pet. She desperately wanted an owl of her own. She couldn’t stand the thought of Errol, he made her shudder. Idiot bird .
—
Before stepping through the barrier at King’s Cross, they met a black haired boy, who seemed to be around her age. He had broken glasses, shabby clothes, and had no idea what he was doing. She smoothed out her new black robes and watched the exchange while placing a faked pleasant look on her face. In reality, she thought the whole encounter was a waste of her time. After hurriedly escaping the tears of Molly Weasley, she boarded the Hogwarts Express. She settled into a compartment with Ron, much to her chagrin. The same boy from earlier opened the door and sheepishly asked if he could sit with them. Ron immediately invited the boy in. Lydia held back an eye roll, and plastered on a smile. She was shocked, absolutely stunned, to hear the boys’ name. Harry Potter? That was Harry Potter? The one and only Boy-Who-Lived??? Ron was practically drooling over himself and she looked at Ron with displeasure at his reaction. She kept a flirty, polite smile, now intending to charm the famous boy. The boy was surprisingly humble. If she were the one to vanquish You-Know-Who, she would have been at least a bit more ostentatious. This boy was obviously clueless to the wizarding world and his role in shaping it. Ron explained various wizarding facts to Harry, including the Hogwarts houses. She expected to be sorted into Gryffindor like her mother and the rest of her family.
A boy with stylish blonde hair and perfectly pressed robes abruptly opened the compartment door, accompanied by some brute lackeys. He introduced himself to be Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy. Ron scowled. Lydia thought back to Arthur and his rants about how abhorrent the whole family was. Taking this into consideration, she stayed silent through the exchange. Malfoy insulted the Weasleys, which made Ron absolutely furious. The boy lacked tact, but she wasn’t fazed by what he said, it was all true. Then, Ron started spewing out how Lucius Malfoy was a death eater. “Who are you?” Draco Malfoy asked her inquisitively. “Lucretia Prewett” she responded, holding his gaze. He smirked as he shut the compartment door. From that moment, Harry decided he would not be put in Slytherin.
—
With trepidation, the first years gathered in the Great Hall in front of the Sorting Hat. It was an old musty thing. She did not want it on her head. What if she got lice? She stood there impatiently watching those as before her got sorted. The hat had barely touched the head of Draco Malfoy before it yelled SLYTHERIN . It didn’t surprise her, she’d known Malfoys’ were always in Slytherin. Harry Potters’ took absolutely forever to finish. They could have gotten through the whole feast. Her name was called, and she strode confidently to the stool.
“ Ah… Your last name is Prewett? Interesting. I had a tough time deciding on where to put your mother as well. I wanted to put her in Slytherin, but she was steadfast to be in Gryffindor, couldn’t handle disappointing the family you see. You, on the other hand, can see the recklessness that can overcome Gryffindors. That is not the correct house for you. You are much more methodical, cunning. You use your strengths and weaknesses to obtain what you want. SLYTHERIN .”
Putting on an unreadable face, she sat at the Slytherin table. She thought she would be shocked to not be in Gryffindor. Deep down, she knew this was where the hat would put her, despite her brain (and everyone around her) telling her otherwise. Once she had sat down next to a dark haired girl, who she later learned was Pansy Parkinson, she looked over at the Gryffindor table. Ron had just been sorted there and was sitting next to Harry. He gave her a questioning look with a slight hint of anger before returning to his conversation. Great , just what she needed.
After the feast, the prefects led them to the dungeons. The common room was massive, with a green tint from the lake. The furniture was made of leather, all dark in color. Her dormitory was also large. It was long and rectangular, with two beds on one side, and three on the other. At the far end was a fireplace, two sofas, and a table for studying. The connected bathroom had a large tub and two showers. It was made of a dark marble that soothed the senses. It’s perfect , Lydia thought.
She spent the evening getting to know her roommates, Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, Tracey Davis, and Millicent Bulstrode. Pansy was her favorite by far. Lydia appreciated her ability to pinpoint people’s weaknesses and strengths, and use them to her advantage. Pansy would be a good ally .
—
The Slytherin first years entered the Great Hall together. Lydia and Pansy were side by side, discussing how their classes were going to go, and which teachers they needed to charm. Growing up, she heard from her brothers that Professor Snape was dreadful. Apparently that was only because they were Gryffindors. Snape’s favoritism for his own house was well known—Lydia would use that to her advantage.
Without warning, owls swooped low through the hall, under the floating candles. She received two letters, one from Bill, and one from Molly. It pleased her to know Bill was writing. They had always been close.
Dear Lydia,
I want to congratulate you on your sorting. Slytherin has received a very fine witch and I know you will do incredible there. And honestly? I’m not surprised. You were always ambitious, always determined, always clever enough to get away with things the rest of us never could. And if that wasn’t enough of a clue, well… I haven’t forgotten what I saw when you were eight. I knew that no matter what it meant, no matter what anyone else thought, you were still my little sister. And you still are. So don’t let anyone make you feel like you don’t belong—not in Slytherin, not at Hogwarts, not anywhere. You’ll make your own place, just like you always have.
Write back soon. I want to hear all about your first day.
With love,
Bill
Reading the letter from Bill brought her contentment not possible from the other members of her family. He understood her, he knew she wasn’t going to be like them, and he was okay with that. She braced herself for whatever nonsense Molly was going to throw her way.
My Dearest Lydia,
I hope you’re settling in all right. Hogwarts can be overwhelming at first, but I know you—you’re clever and capable, and I have no doubt you’ll find your way.
I won’t pretend that I wasn’t surprised when we got the news that you’d been sorted into Slytherin. I suppose I had always just assumed you would be with the boys in Gryffindor, where you belong . It’s difficult for me to picture you anywhere else, and I won’t lie to you—I worry about what this might mean for you.
Slytherin has never had the best reputation, and you know that. The sort of people that house produces… well, history speaks for itself.
I know you—better than you think, even. You’re strong-willed and determined, and you don’t let people push you around. I only ask that you remember who you are. That you remember who raised you and the values we tried to instill in you. Being ambitious isn’t a bad thing, but ambition without kindness can lead people down dark roads.
Please write to me soon. I want to know everything—what your classes are like, who your friends are, what you think of your professors.
Be careful, my love. And please, be good.
With all my love,
Aunt Molly
Seriously? She underlined ‘belong’? Obviously she did not belong there if the hat did not place her there.
—
The first class of the day was Charms with the Hufflepuffs. Professor Flitwick was a tiny little man with a squeaky voice and walrus mustache. “Think he’s part goblin?” Pansy whispered to her, giggling. Lydia gave her an amused look but stayed quiet. She was determined to be the best of their year and not miss a single detail in any of their classes. The charm, Wingardium Leviosa, was surprisingly easy. Lydia accomplished it on her first try, leaving Flitwick thoroughly impressed. She went through the rest of her day with the same attention to detail, excelling at every piece of magic that came out of her wand. It was 12”, crafted from acacia, and affixed with a phoenix feather core. Luckily, she ensured that she was the only one inside Ollivanders shop that day. His words had been creeping in her mind since. Acacia wood is rare and refuses to function for anyone other than its owner. That part didn’t bother her, in actuality, it was favorable that no one else could use her wand. What stuck with her the most was the core. A certain phoenix only gave three feathers. Her wand had one of them. You-Know-Who and Harry Potter had the other two. She didn’t know what to make of that. Since she bought her wand after Harry, it could be assumed that Harry had no knowledge of her wand. This was part of the reason she wanted to charm him on the train. She needed to figure out this mystery. The reason to charm him was not just because of the commonality of their wands. He was Harry Potter. That could open a lot of doors for her. Yes, she was a pureblood—if her father was—but she also grew up poor. To survive she needed connections and money bought connections. She would have to do it the hard way.
Later that night Lydia found Ron outside of the Great Hall. He was standing there all gangly, staring off with a stupid expression on his face. “Ron, can we talk?” She asked him, trying to look as remorseful as possible. It was idiotic that she should act remorseful but she knew that was the way to make Ron accept her place in Slytherin. At least not hate it. He didn’t seem happy with her but obliged.
“I just wanted to see if you were okay with me being sorted into Slytherin, I know it wasn’t what we were expecting but I’m still the same person,” she furrowed her brow just the slightest bit to give her eyes a pained expression.
Haughtily, he said, “I know you are but all dark wizards come from Slytherin and I don’t want it to turn you into something you’re not. You’re my family and we can still be friends of course but I don’t want to be around any of those snakes, especially Malfoy,”
Taking in his words, she responded exactly how he wanted her to. “Of course I won’t turn into a dark wizard Ron, I could never do that. You know how my mom died,” she was pulling on his heartstrings now, “And of course you don’t have to be around them. Malfoy is a git anyways. I can’t stand him.”
He looked utterly relieved, his emotions displayed for everyone to see. Good, she got through to him. She didn’t actually dislike Malfoy that much, but it was a great way to garner Ron’s trust back.
Later, she decided it was time to write back to Bill and Molly.
Dear Bill,
I knew you’d understand.
You’re right. I do belong here in some ways. I see it already—how determined everyone is, how they always seem to be thinking two steps ahead. They know what they want, and they go after it without hesitation. I admire that. I want to learn from that. You were right when you said I was always getting away with things the others couldn’t. Maybe I can use that here.
My fellow first years have been great, I’ve hit it off with a girl named Pansy Parkinson.
Thank you for not making me feel like I lost my family. I’ll always be your little sister, Bill. No matter what colors I wear.
Love,
Lydia
—
Dear Aunt Molly,
I miss you all so much already.
I promise I’m settling in fine. My classes started today, and I’ve certainly enjoyed them.
The castle is even more magical than I imagined. The Slytherin common room is in the dungeons, and you can actually see the lake through the windows. It’s eerie but beautiful. My dormmates are lovely. I’ve met some of the boys in my year too, and they remind me of Fred and George in some ways. Well, maybe just Theodore Nott.
I spoke to Ron today. He still wants to be my friend, and Harry Potter too! I know you were worried about me being in a different house, but I promise I haven’t changed. I’m still me.
Love,
Lydia
—
On Friday, the Slytherins had double potions with the Gryffindors. Professor Snape was calculating, sharp, and indeed favored his own house. She gave a nod and smile to Ron and Harry as they entered the classroom. She wanted to stay on good terms with Harry. Maybe she could talk to him after class without the Slytherins overhearing. Harry wasn’t exactly a fan favorite in her house. A Gryffindor, who went by the name of Hermione Granger, was a painful nuisance. She had to stifle a laugh when Snape called her an insufferable know-it-all. Yes, she was smart, but no amount of intelligence could undo her unflinching ability to annoy the shit out of Lydia. She was like this in every class, but at least in potions, she wasn’t rewarded for jumping out of seat like a lunatic everytime Professor Snape asked a question. Pansy and Lydia would roll their eyes at each other every time she embarrassed herself, which was often. She told Pansy that she was muggleborn, that she’d heard it from Ron, and Pansy turned her irritation into straight up contempt. “That mudblood doesn’t know her place.” Lydia knew Pansy’s comment wasn’t polite, or aligned with how Lydia was raised, but she didn’t correct her. She wasn’t about to get into a row with her new friend about blood purity. Not caring either way about the issue, she would agree with Pansy with her views in private, while being friendly to the girl out of consideration for Ron and Harry.
After class, she struck up a conversation with Harry as they left the dungeons. “Are you enjoying your first week?” She asked politely, falling into step with him. “Oh yes, it’s been eye opening to say the least.” She gave him a knowing smile, “I bet, growing up with muggles and finding out about magic just before attending school must be stressful.” He agreed with her and went on about how different life was in the magical world. She listened intently, responding at the right moments, indulging him.
—
The next few months were spent going to classes, making friends, and studying those around her. Harry and Ron became friends with the Granger girl after their foolish incident with a troll on Halloween. How the two of them ended up defeating it against all odds was beyond her. They were average at best in classes. Neither cared much to study or invest as much time as they should. Lydia played nice with the girl, knowing it would help her with her goals in the long run. Pansy thought she was idiotic for treating the girl with any ounce of respect. Lydia had to consistently apologize for her friend, making it seem like they were just acquaintances forced to be around each other due to their shared house.
She was also warming up to Malfoy, learning that there was a lot more to his personality than his ability to insult those he saw as inferior. He was extremely intelligent, insightful, and driven. She now considered him something of a friend. It didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eyes. Their interactions were surface level but polite. He seemed to respect her, despite the Weasley connection, perhaps it had to do with the fact she was still a pureblood and a Slytherin.
One evening, while she was studying in the library, Hermione asked if she could join her. Her bushy hair and buck teeth ever present. She hesitated for a split second, hoping this wouldn’t hurt her in the future, and let the witch sit with her. Lydia had to admit that she was a helpful person to revise with. Instead of hurting her, her supposed kindness to the girl worked out in her favor. Ron and Harry noticed them sitting at a back table and appreciated Lydia’s ability to not be peer pressured by the evil Slytherins.
—
In December Lydia decided to explore the dungeons. She left the common room and walked down a long passageway. It was dark and she had to use Lumos to light her way. She was met with twists and turns and eventually a dead end. She had only come down this path because she had felt like she needed to, as if it was calling to her. Confused as to why it led nowhere, she turned around to leave.
“Blood sacrifice of the rightful heir ”
Confused, she turned back to the wall. Did she actually hear that? It spoke in English but had a faint hissing sound amalgamated to it. It spoke again, saying the same thing. What the bloody hell was going on?
“Blood sacrifice? What are you talking about? ” She said to the wall. At that moment she realized the hissing aspect was parseltongue. She was talking to an engraving of a snake. The snake's head was protruding from the wall, with the throat of the snake making a small tube that integrated into the stone.
“Give a blood sacrifice to enter, ” the snake said.
She knew she could speak to snakes. When she was 8 years old she spoke to a snake that had gotten into the garden at the Burrow. Her cousin Bill had heard her and immediately told her not to tell a soul, as it was very rare and looked down upon skill. Apparently Parseltongue’s were considered dark wizards and although Bill assured her she wasn’t, other people would not think the same. From that point she had hid this ability, only speaking to snakes when she could ensure privacy. She learned that most had never spoken to a human before and that they would do anything she asked.
Curious, she thought she might as well examine the odd exchange, she was a Slytherin after all and her thirst for knowledge overpowered her. As if knowing she had decided to go through with the sacrifice, an obsidian knife encrusted with small silver snakes that beautifully contrasted the black of the blade slid out of a hidden compartment just below the snake. She tentatively grabbed it, cut her palm, and let the blood trickle down the snake’s mouth.
“Enter, you may keep the blade ” said the snake.
Taking a deep breath, she walked through the wall into a grandiose library. It captivated her. It was the library of her dreams. As if it were made for her. There had to be at least a thousand texts. A large archaic table was positioned directly in the center. Its coloring was dark slate and it had serpent engravings on its legs. Leather couches were spread out in the vast room. She noticed a book sitting directly on the table, The Legacy of Salazar Slytherin . Opening it up, she read the first page, “ To those who share my gift, the ancient tongue of serpents shall reveal the way. The rightful heir will unlock what has been long forgotten. ”
A bit fearful of what she read and what she already knew of Slytherin, she grasped the book and left. She hated feeling fear, but knew that to understand herself, she had to examine those feelings and flaws she detested. Going straight to her dormitory and flipping through the pages, she found an ancestry tree. At the top was Salazar himself, and at the bottom was something that stunned her. Her name. Her name was at the bottom. One of two living heirs to the Salazar Slytherin. The other was someone named Tom Riddle. Once she recovered from that shocking turn of events, she looked at her parents and grandparents. She was raised knowing her mother was Valerie Prewett, but never had any knowledge of her father. Since her mother died no one would ever know, unless he came forward. The text displayed a name, Rodolphus Lestrange. Rodolphus Lestrange? She felt like she heard that name before but wasn’t sure where. Going up, she saw her Grandmother, Doris Prewett, and someone who was not her grandfather. She had known that her grandfather was Charles Prewett, her mothers and Aunt Molly's father. What the hell was this? Trusting the book for some odd reading, her head was reeling. Her heart pounded in her chest. Her true grandfather was Morfin Gaunt. Who is Morfin Gaunt? She was still trying to get past the fact that this was saying her grandmother supposedly had an affair while with Charlie. And apparently that’s how the Slytherin line and parseltongue was passed along. It was also passed from Morfin’s sister to her son Tom Riddle. If her mother was also a descendant, how come she was in Gryffindor? She thought back to the day of her sorting, I had a tough time deciding on where to put your mother as well. I wanted to put her in Slytherin, but she was steadfast to be in Gryffindor, couldn’t handle disappointing the family you see. Deciding that was enough life changing news for one night, hid the book in her trunk, and went to bed.
—
Dear Bill,
I hope you’re doing well and not getting into too much trouble at Gringotts. I know you’re busy, but I need to ask you something.
Do you know who Rodolphus Lestrange is?
With love,
Lydia
She sent her letter and received a response the next day.
Dear Lydia,
I wasn’t expecting that question. Rodolphus Lestrange is a Death Eater—one of the worst. He and his brother Rabastan were sent to Azkaban for torturing a pair of Aurors after the war. From what I know, he was completely loyal to You-Know-Who, and when he fell, the Lestranges were some of the few who refused to give up.
He’s married to a woman named Bellatrix, née Black. I don’t know how much you know about the old pureblood families, but the Blacks were as dark as they come, always in Slytherin. Bellatrix was even worse—ruthless, fanatical. She and Rodolphus were both imprisoned for life.
Lydia, why are you asking about him?
The Lestranges are dangerous, and their name isn’t one you want to be tied to.
Write back soon.
Bill
She felt a pit in her stomach. Her father was a death eater? How could her mother ever be with him? She was firmly against You-Know-Who. Her mother was killed by death eaters, and fought alongside the Order of the Phoenix. She didn’t understand how this was possible. It also made her understand why she was even more Slytherin than her mother, the sorting hat couldn’t have put her anywhere else, not with that bloodline added to the mix.
Lydia wrote back immediately.
Dear Bill,
I was just curious, I overheard some of the 7th year Slytherins mention him and I didn’t want to ask them directly.
It’s nothing to worry about.
Love,
Lydia
—
Lydia went about her last few weeks before Christmas break in a daze. Of course she continued studying as hard as ever, but she couldn't stop thinking about her father and her Slytherin ancestry. She was kind of dreading the holidays because she wouldn't have classes to fill her time (and her overactive brain). Her siblings and herself decided to stay for the holidays as Molly, Arthur, and Ginny were visiting Charlie in Romania. She was one of three Slytherins to stay, including Theo, the other was a 5th year studying for her O.W.L’s. Lydia could spend time with Theo along with her family and Harry. Hermione had decided to go home and see her parents. This would be a prime opportunity to develop her friendship with Harry.
On the second day of break, Lydia and Theo were both sitting in the common, relaxing on the leather sofa usually occupied by the upperclassmen. After a few moments of comfortable silence, Theo leaned back on his elbows and sighed. “Do you ever feel like you don’t belong?”
Lydia tilted her head. “In Slytherin?”
Theo nodded, staring at the ceiling. She considered that for a moment before shaking her head. “I don’t know, I don’t think I belong anywhere sometimes.”
Theo hummed in response, his gaze thoughtful. “Everyone here has this… thing. Like, my dad expects me to be a certain way. Act a certain way. Be the perfect son. And I know Draco’s got that too, even if he acts like it doesn’t bother him.”
Lydia didn’t respond right away, just watched the fire flicker. “I suppose. I’m expected to act more like a Gryffindor than a Slytherin. It’s kind of hard when I was raised one way but I’m not what everyone wants.”
Theo shot her a look. “I think you’re a true Slytherin.”
“Am I? Why’s that?”
“You think before you act. You don’t rush into things just because someone tells you to. And you’ve already figured out how to get what you want without making a scene about it. You can convince people to do things without them even realizing.”
“That just makes me sound like a manipulative little snake.”
“If the shoe fits.”
She kicked his leg lightly. “I don’t manipulate people.”
He shrugged, an amused glint in his eyes. “Maybe not on purpose, but you understand people better than most. You know what to say to get them to listen.”
She frowned slightly. “I guess I just thought—” She hesitated, then sighed. “I don’t know. I was raised in a house full of Gryffindors. I thought maybe the hat would put me there too.”
“The hat doesn’t care where you were raised. It sorts you based on who you are. You’re ambitious, you’re cunning, and you’re smart enough to know that Gryffindors get themselves killed because they don’t think before they jump.”
Lydia huffed a small laugh.
—
Christmas day came quickly, and she woke up to a delightful amount of presents.
From each person she received…
Aunt Molly: A hand-knitted green and silver sweater and a tin of homemade fudge.
Uncle Arthur: A set of enchanted mittens that always stayed warm.
Ginny: A set of fancy quills that change color depending on her mood.
Fred and George: A personalized prank kit.
Ron: A set of enchanted chess pieces charmed to whisper strategic advice.
Harry: A journal charmed to only open with a specific passphrase, and unable to be read by anyone but herself.
Bill: A protective amulet he picked up in Egypt, said to ward off minor curses and hexes.
Percy: A fountain pen enchanted for perfect penmanship.
Charlie: A miniature dragon figurine that moves and breathes harmless fire.
Theo: A book on wizarding folklore and myths, annotated with his own sarcastic notes in the margins.
Draco: A high-quality inkwell with charmed ink that resists smudging.
Pansy: A perfume bottle enchanted to change scents based on what response she wanted from others.
Blaise: A book on wizarding etiquette and politics, half as a joke, half as a useful guide.
Daphne: A silk hair ribbon in Slytherin green, enchanted to never come undone unless she wanted it to.
All in all it was full of the best Christmas gifts she’d ever gotten. It satisfied her to know so many people gave a conscious thought to what she would enjoy.
She went down the stairs to the common room and found Theo waiting for her. She gave him a quick hug and thanked him for his gift, and he thanked her for the enchanted pocket mirror that allows the owner to see their favorite memory when they look into it. In the evening, she and Theo leisurely strolled towards the Great Hall for the Christmas Feast. There weren’t many students staying over break this year so everyone was sat at one table with the professors.
Theo hesitated at the entrance, glancing over at the Gryffindors already seated. “You sure this is a good idea?” he murmured to Lydia.
She rolled her eyes and tugged him forward. “Yes, Theo, you’ll survive dinner with a bunch of Gryffindors.”
As they approached, Ron looked up and pointedly said, “didn’t think I’d see you sitting with us, Nott.”
“Didn’t think I’d be here either,” he admitted, pulling out a chair beside her, “but Lydia insisted and how can I refuse her magnetic charm.”
“I am magnetic aren’t I?” She teased.
Fred grinned. “Welcome to the chaos, mate. Hope you’ve got a strong stomach—Percy’s been talking about Ministry regulations for the past ten minutes.”
“I have not,” Percy protested, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I was merely explaining the importance of properly filed holiday exemption forms for cauldron import taxes—”
George groaned. “See? We can’t escape it.”
Theo leaned toward Lydia. “I take it this happens often?”
She smirked, picking up a roll from the platter in front of her. “More than you know.”
After the feast, Theo told Lydia he was going back to the common room. She couldn’t blame him, after getting used to being in Slytherins, with their sly wit, the Gryffindors were wearing on her keen sensibilities. Since she was desperate to further her relationship with Harry, she asked him and Ron if they wanted to spend some more time together. They happened to find an empty classroom with some comfy chairs to settle in. Lydia knew about this room and made sure they would walk right past it.
“You know Theo isn’t that bad,” said Harry.
“How could you? He’s still a Slytherin.” Quipped Ron.
Lydia shot him a glare. “Hey! I’m a Slytherin, or did you forget?
Ron rolled his eyes, “how could I ever forget?”
“Well he’s not a prat like Malfoy, so that's nice,” Harry said, “well he’s still snarky, but not in a cruel way.”
“See, Slytherins aren't all bad, maybe I should start only hanging with Slytherins.”
Harry shook his head, smiling, “we’d have to stage a rescue mission.”
Ron grinned. “Operation: Steal Lydia Back.”
“You’re both ridiculous,” she said while laughing.
“Okay, well I’m getting tired, you wanna head up to the common room Harry?” Asked Ron.
Harry laid back on the loveseat, “no, I’m not ready to deal with Fred and George’s pranks yet.”
“Suit yourself, I’ll see ya later. Goodnight Lyd.” Ron said as he walked out the door.
“Goodnight,” she said.
Perfect opportunity. Her time to pick Harry’s brain and create a bond with him.
She moved from her own chair and sat down next to Harry, saying quietly, “do you ever wonder?”
Harry turned his head to look at her, “wonder what?”
“What it would’ve been like,” she murmured. “If your parents were still here.”
Harry didn’t answer right away. He turned back to the ceiling, his fingers drumming lightly against his stomach. “Yeah. All the time.”
“Me too.”
“You… don’t really talk about them much.”
“There’s not much to say. My mum died the same year as yours. I don’t even remember her.”
Harry shifted, propping himself up on his elbows, looking at her with a newfound appreciation. “What about your dad?”
“Never knew him either. I have no idea who he is.” She lied.
Harry frowned. “Nobody told you about him?”
She hesitated, then shook her head. “The Weasleys don’t really talk about it. And I never asked.”
Harry was quiet for a moment before he said, “I think about them more at Christmas.”
Lydia looked at him. “Yeah?”
He nodded. “I mean, I never had Christmas with them. But sometimes I wonder if my mum would’ve made me a sweater like Mrs. Weasley does. Or if my dad would’ve taught me how to fly.”
“You look like them, you know.”
Harry huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah. Everyone tells me I have my mum’s eyes.”
Lydia nudged his shoulder. “You do. They’re pretty. Like emeralds.”
“What about you? Do you look like your mum?”
“A little. At least, that’s what Molly says. But I’ve seen pictures. I don’t really look like anyone.”
Harry was quiet for a second. Then he said, “That’s not true.”
“Oh yeah? You know something I don’t?”
Harry shrugged. “You look like you. And that counts.”
“That’s the most Gryffindor thing you’ve ever said.” She snorted.
“It’s true, though.”
She sighed. “Yeah. I guess.”
They fell into another silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence where words weren’t really needed—where the understanding was enough. Her intention was to form a connection with the boy, which she did, but to her surprise, she actually connected with him. He understood how she felt.
Finally, Lydia let out a deep breath. “We should probably head back.”
Harry groaned dramatically. “Fine. Let me walk you back, it’s late.”
She looked at him meaningfully, an honest smile. “That’d be nice, thank you Harry.”
They walked in comfortable silence down to the dungeons. Once they reached the entrance she turned to Harry and said “Thanks for staying up, and… understanding.”
He met her eyes, something soft in his expression. “Same to you.”
“Goodnight, Harry.”
“Goodnight, Lydia”