✯ Lyudmila Ostrovskaya ✯

Name: Lyudmila Ostrovskaya [Людмила Островская]

School: Koldovstoretz [iNPC]

Year: Second Year

Age: 12

Wand: 20,2 cm walnut wood and unicorn hair

Species: Human

Residence: Petrozavodsk, Russian Federation

Sport: Quidditch (Chaser)



Warmth and bliss — These are the two words that Lyudmila would use to describe her life thus far.

Contrary to how one might assume the daughter of a disgraced pureblood lineage would live her early childhood, Lyudmila’s parents spared every effort and resource to ensure she is brought up with love and a good set of moral values. Her father was the second son of the main family of House Ostrovsky, and lacked the pressure from the position of Head of House. Hence, he ensured Lyudmila would spend a childhood without the crushing expectations and education the child of a pure-blooded heir would have had to undergo; what he had to undergo, after his sister had fled and left his older brother and the entire family scrambling.

For all of her life, both sides of the family adored Lyudmila as their sole granddaughter — the Ostrovskys, who had long since been rid of traditional pureblood conservatism and prejudice, and the Rivas, whose history of interspecies marriage with veelas have warmed their hearts with acceptance. As such, she was raised and grew up in an environment where she faced little hardship and strife, nurturing her will of steel that blossomed into a confidence and determination to achieve all her heart desires.

It is very safe to say that Lyudmila grew up wanting absolutely nothing, for she had everything.



From her birth, Lyudmila had always shown an affinity and an inexplicable intimacy towards magic. Magic enveloped her in life like a protective blanket and permeated every aspect of it. She thrived in a magical environment growing up, and was no stranger to the world she would one day enter, as her parents had promised her since the day she could speak and ask with her own words.

That day came on a day of mundanity for the Ostrovskys. Sunday evening dinners were a tradition long-established in their household, and so, it was had in comfortable chatter over familiar favourites of the family.

6-year-old Lyudmila was thoroughly bored by the conversation topic about the recent publicised discussions posted out by the Russian diplomats to the British Ministry of Magic. She fiddled with the three different spoons to the side of her plate, shuffling them in a strange dance and pattern to entertain herself. Then. CLANG!

Her flick of the soup spoon sent it ricocheting off the chicken's silver platter and into her glass of mixed berry juice. Lyudmila tensed and shut her eyes, ready for a loud clatter and a mess that she would surely get chided for…. Huh, it's not falling…

Eyes hesitantly opening, a floating glass levitated itself above the carpet, juice precariously swishing at its rim. She gasped as it gracefully plopped back to the safety of the flat table surface, with not even a drop of juice on the woven carpet floor or the table cloth. That changed immediately with her maternal grandfather's excited whoops and cheers that shook the table furiously as he stood up to congratulate her with one of his bear hugs.

Quite appropriately, Lyudmila grew up incredibly fond of mixed berry juice. Less appropriately, the little witch would grow obsessed with repeating her feat to varying levels of success.