After transfiguration, Lydia sat in the common room helping Kendra do her charms homework.
"I've tried so hard to understand this rubbish." She slammed her quill on the table.
"Obviously not." Lydia picked up Kendra's paper and started to scrawl on it with her own quill, "That's defiantly not how you spell Expelliarmus."
"Oh shut up." Kendra yanked her paper back.
"Hey, you wanted help." Lydia defended.
"Not on my spelling." She looked at Lydia with contempt.
"Well, I hate to break this to you, but I have to go." She pushed herself from the table and walked up to the Gryffindor dormitories to get her Transfiguration book.
"Leave me alone, James." Lilly Evans sang.
"Come on, Evans, spend the day with me." James Potter hung over the back of the chair that Lilly sat in.
"Not a chance. Oh, hey Lydia." Lilly waved to Lydia, "Can I borrow your Charms notes?"
"Sure, I'll get them for you." Lydia walked up the stairs to the girls dormitories.
After transfiguration, Lydia went into the library to study for her ancient runes exam. Not long after she started to study, Sirius and James walked in with mischievous smiles on their faces.
"I'll distract the librarian." James leaned on the desk where the librarian sat and started to do his best charming. The librarian didn't look that impressed by the thirteen year old boy that was trying to charm her.
"Alohomora." He whispered and snuck into the restricted section.
"I don't suppose you've got Quidditch throughout the ages?" James ruffled his hair.
"No, somebody else checked it out." The librarian said curtly, "Like I told you yesterday and this morning."
Lydia closed her ancient runes book and snuck into the restricted section behind Sirius, "What are you doing?"
"Where is the book on the Volubilis Potion?" Sirius read the spines of books with squinted eyes.
"That wouldn't be in the restricted section. But I would suggest a Babbling Beverage; it's much funnier." She turned and walked back to her ancient runes.
"James!" Sirius said in a harsh whisper, "Let's go." With one last wave to Lydia, he left with James.
Despite telling Lydia he would meet her at the edge of the forest at eleven, Sirius waited for Lydia in the Gryffindor common room. He wore a black hoodie, perfect for lending to a girl, and faded blue jeans. Lydia wore a black lace skirt with a green tank top, when she descended the stairs with a white jacket in her hands.
"Good evening." Sirius held out his arm to interlock with hers.
"Likewise." Lydia locked arms with him, an unsure look on her face.
Before they could get to the exit the portrait flung open to reveal a very tired looking Professor McGonagall.
"Lydia, in my office." She pursed her lips, ignoring Sirius.
"Professor, it's my fault that she's out of bed." Sirius reasoned.
"It's not that, Mr. Black." Professor McGonagall grabbed Lydia's arm. She pulled Lydia out of the portrait and dragged her down the hall, "Sit." She pointed at a chair that sat before her desk.
"If I may, why am I here?" Lydia sat gingerly in the chair and crossed her legs.
"I'm so sorry, but it's your mother. They found her dead this morning. I can schedule for you-"
"By dead you mean that she killed herself?" Lydia face sobered.
"Yes and I've been told to send you immediately for the burial." She motioned to the fireplace, "I trust that you've used Floo Powder before?"
"I don't think that it is my place to be at the burial." Lydia's voice remained as strong as her posture.
"I don't want to hear any more of this. She is your mother and if she ever gave you a good memory you will go there and pay your respects." Professor McGonagall pulled a bag of Floo powder from her desk and handed a handful of the fine powder to Lydia.
Lydia stepped into the fire, with an emotionless look on her face, "Four hundred twenty two West Ashland Street."
In an instant Lydia stood in the parlor of her grandfather's house. The furniture was dusty, save for his black leather chair, and books littered the floor. His house was littered with trinkets and potion making supplies.
"Oh, Ickle Lydia!" Rosaline, his housekeeper cooed, "I've 'eard what 'appened to your dearest mum."
"Is my grandfather here?" Lydia ducked away from the boney hand of Rosaline, as she tried to pinch her cheek.
"O, 'es in 'is bedroom."
"Thank you." Lydia walked through down the hall to the room behind an iron door, "May I come in?" She knocked tenderly.
"Yes, of course, Lydia." The door opened at the sound of the creaky voice of her grandfather, "Have a seat." The steely man that was Lydia's grandfather sat, with the same business like demeanor that Lydia tried to portray, on a chair in the corner of his room that was made the same as the one by the fireplace. His hair was as gray as his sharp eyes that reflected the dull lamp light.
"How did she do it?" Lydia prompted as she sat on the edge of the red quilt covered bed.
"Such an uncaring question?" His face filled with disapproval, "Like your father, I guess. Always thinking about the worst outcome, as to never be taken advantage of."
"Hasn't failed me yet." Lydia folded her hands in her lap.
"It might never fail you, but that doesn't make it the best option. For once you might want to let yourself feel." He said.
"How cliché." Lydia swung her hair over her shoulder with a flick of her hand.
"Well, my dear granddaughter, don't tell anyone; but I happen to be a very cliché person." He laughed.
"I'll be sure to use that against you." Lydia smiled.
"The funeral will be tomorrow. Until then, you can sleep in the guest bedroom upstairs."
"Goodnight, grandfather." Lydia placed a kiss tenderly on his forehead.