Physical description:
This girl has always been a beauty. Long, wavy, luxurious black hair, dark eyes and white, smooth skin. Many have said she is the very image of her late mother, and can only wonder at how beautiful Lydia will be when she’s fully grown.

Mental description:
Many hold the wrong notion of her, perhaps. Only her Uncle Oscar and the handful of servants in the old castle truly see through her ways. To most, Lydia appears a quiet, somewhat melancholy girl — soft-spoken and harmless. And she is well content to let them think so, for she rather enjoys being taken for a pretty, fragile creature. But behind that gentle mask lives a stubborn and curious spirit — not always the most careful, though kind of heart and fierce in her loyalties.
Though she dearly loves her books, the piano, and her painting, she cannot live without the wild embrace of nature. She rides horses across the rolling fields, wanders off on little adventures, and dirties her hands gladly in the garden soil. More than once she has returned home at night looking as though she’d fought in some grand battle — hair undone, skirts muddied, cheeks flushed with triumph.
Of course, it is not that Uncle Oscar permits her to stray deep into the woods alone or come home long after sunset — he would have a fit entirely. Yet Lydia always finds some clever way to bend the rules without quite breaking them, or so she tells herself.
And sometimes, to ease her uncle’s worry — for she loves him dearly — she stays in for a few days at a stretch, behaving as proper as any young lady ought, just to give the poor man a bit of peace.

Biography:
Lydia was born to Rita and Emmet Jenkins. Her arrival had been long awaited, yet it brought little joy to the Jenkins family, for her mother died few hours after giving birth, and her father disappeared that very same day. Rita was found dead in her bed. There wasn’t a mark nor a bruise on her, and her strength after the childbirth had been steady and sure. Still, the talk around the place was fierce. Plenty believed that Emmet, Lydia’s father, had gone mad entirely and cast the Avada Kedavra on his own wife before disappearing without a trace. It’s a twisted tale altogether.
Now Lydia is being raised by her father’s younger brother, Oscar.

First instance of magic:

It happened when she was eight years old, at her very first ball beside her uncle.
An old man dared to call her a curse upon the Jenkins family, saying she had killed her own mother and driven her father to disappear. For the celebration was held beneath the open, clear sky, and in her blazing anger she summoned a bolt of lightning that struck the earth between her and the old man. No one could say how it happened. No wand had been raised. No spell spoken. Yet the power was hers.
Since that night, nothing so grand nor terrible has occurred.