Disclaimer: I do not own Beetlejuice or Harry Potter or anything related to them.

A/N: This is an AU Harry Potter where Harry does not exist and no one knows why Voldemort disappeared. I really wanted Lydia to shine in this fic and that is hard to do with Harry's hero complex. Also, I took the liberty of making Lydia younger in this fic. I know in the Beetlejuice movies she is supposed to be 14-16, but that didn't work for placing her in Hogwarts, so she is 11 here. Considering she is 12 in the Beetlejuice cartoons, I felt like it was a reasonable enough to de-age her a bit. There won't be any romance in this book, but I do plan on adding some in later sequels so look forward to that! I'm going to try and upload a chapter every week. I hope you enjoy it!

On the morning that this story really begins, our brave heroine, Lydia Deetz had just found out the most terrible news. Her Dad had just gotten a great deal on some property and the whole family was to move to England as soon as possible. Now, moving to England wasn't necessarily bad. She had heard some very nice things about England, like how it's always rainy and that it had sprawling abandoned castles, and forgotten forests. However, moving to England also meant moving away from her two best friends and the closest thing she had to proper parental figures (because let's be honest, her own parents just didn't really cut it), the Maitlands. The Maitlands were the ghosts that were bound to their house, and they were the kindest and sweetest people that Lydia had ever met. They had even helped her to defeat a super creepy ghost dude fifty times her age that wanted to marry her. She didn't know if she could bear losing them. "Don't worry, sweetie," Mrs. Maitland reassured her. "Your Dad isn't going to sell the house, so you can come back and see us anytime you want! We'll always be here for you if you need us!" Lydia only sighed in response. By that point she had already tried all the usual things to try and get her parents to change their minds: crying uncontrollably, refusing to eat, fainting every time the move was brought up. None of them had work. They were moving and there was nothing she could do about it.

By the end of the week Lydia was dragging a suitcase into a two-story red brick house in Wenshire, England. It was a small, quaint town, very much like her hometown. So much so, in fact, that it kind of made her heart ache to see it. Even the house reminded her of her old house, or what her house used to look like before her step-mother got a hold of it and remodeled it in an avante-garde style. Instead of the freaky deaky artwork that characterized her step-mother's taste, everything in that house was homey, and very much English country with warm, earthy colors and comfortable furniture. Just seeing it made her want to cry with homesickness. She blinked away the tears angrily and dragged the suitcase upstairs to her room.

A bright pink canopied bed took center stage in her room, and her poor little goth heart almost threw up onto the matching plush carpet in disgust. She liked homey, yes, but this was just a bit too much girliness for her to take. Hesitantly, afraid of what other horrors she might find, she checked out the rest of the room, but other than a few brightly colored scrunchies of dubious history, the room was devoid of any other overly girly touches. All it held was a white wooden desk and an old fashioned white wardrobe. Not too bad. She would have to do something about the pink carpet and bed though. With a sigh, she plopped onto her desk chair and rested her chin on her hand as she stared blankly out of her window, wishing she could somehow go back home.

She was still staring out the window when suddenly a large barn owl landed on the windowpane and pecked at the glass. For a moment Lydia simply stared dumbly at the creature, but when his pecks became more persistent, she opened the window to let it in. A letter was tied to his foot, and he offered it to her solemnly, flying away the moment she took it. On the yellowed parchment of the envelope these words were written in emerald ink:

Lydia Deetz

Upstairs Bedroom

346 Ecto Drive

Wenshire, England

Not sure what else to do, she broke the purple seal and began to read.

Dear Miss Deetz,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. A representative of the school will be visiting shortly to prepare you for the coming term.

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Just as she read the last word, she heard a loud pop and then the doorbell rang. "Hold on! I'm coming!" Her father said cheerfully. He was always happy after a move. Her step-mother was probably still hiding away somewhere with her agent, lamenting the loss of her beautiful house. Lydia ran down the stairs as fast as she could, reaching the bottom floor just in time to see her father open the door to a very strict looking gray haired woman. "Good afternoon," she said in a clipped British voice that seemed to dare the listener to say that the afternoon was anything other than 'good'. "I am Professor Minerva McGonagall. I sent a letter earlier warning of my visit. I have come to discuss the conditions of your daughter joining us at Hogwarts this coming term."

"Hog-what?" her father replied intelligently. Lydia rushed over to him and handed him the letter. "An owl brought this to my window," she explained, not taking her eyes off of the strange woman. He scanned through the letter and then cleared his throat. "I see," he said. "Well please do come in Miss –"

"It's Professor McGonagall actually," the woman corrected as she walked into the house. She stared disdainfully at the half empty boxes laying around the house.

"Sorry, about the mess," her father, Charles apologized. "We just moved in today."

"That's quite alright," McGonagall replied in a tone that seemed to say it wasn't alright in the slightest. She took a seat on the sofa and Lydia and her father sat in armchairs opposite from her.

"Now, as you must have noticed, your daughter is not like other children," McGonagall began. "She is gifted with special powers, yes? Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is a specialized boarding school for children just like her."

Charles glanced at Lydia nervously. Sure he had lived with ghosts and was almost killed by a maniacal poltergeist, but this was a lot to take in. "Look, I've had a lot of dealings with the supernatural, but a witch? Really? I'm not saying they don't exist. You should have seen my high school chemistry teacher! But my daughter? I mean sure, she can see ghosts but does that really mean she's a witch?"

"Children exhibit their powers in different ways when they are young," McGonagall explained. "I can assure you that everyone in the magical community can see ghosts, but so can many mug – sorry – non-magical people as well. But even if you have not noticed any special powers, I can assure that your daughter is a witch and it is vital for her to learn how to control her powers. Our school can provide that training for her."

"Oh please can I go Dad?" Lydia begged. "It's perfect! Way better than that private school you sent me to in the states!"

Charles still wasn't quite convinced. "You sure this isn't some big prank to welcome the new American to town?"

McGonagall gave a sigh and pulled out a long stick from within her green robes. She waved it and an empty box on the coffee table suddenly turned into a vintage painting of a grey cat. "Hogwarts does not cost any tuition and she will be able to go home during the Christmas and Summer holidays," she said as the two muggles (or…er…one muggle and one witch, I suppose) stared at the painting in shock.

"Delia!" Charles suddenly shouted. "I think you should come in here!" A petite woman came in shortly with a blue spray paint can.

"Oh what is – who let that monstrosity in the house! Please don't tell me it was already here!" the woman screamed. She sprayed a big blue X onto the painting. "I knew we shouldn't have moved."

Charles coughed awkwardly. "Delia, dear, this is Professor McGonagall. She is from a very special school that wants to take Lydia as a student."

"Then why don't they?" Delia stated as if the whole conversation was vapid and pointless and there was no reason why she should be apart of it.

"Delia," Charles said seriously. "It's a school for witches." Slowly, realization dawned on her face and Delia frowned. "Witches? Really? Well it would explain that whole incident last year. She might as well go. If we keep her here she'll only sulk."

"I don't sulk! I languish in utter deep, dark despair!" Lydia put a hand to her forehead dramatically. Suddenly she realized what Delia had said. "Wait! She said I can go! Dad can I really go?"

Charles shrugged. "I guess." Lydia squealed in excitement, and then coughed lamely to cover it up.

"Welcome to Hogwarts Miss Deetz," McGonagall said with a smile that revealed how nice she really was.