Thank you so much for those who read, reviewed, favourited or followed the first chapter. I hope you enjoy my characterisation of Leta which I hope is a fresh and new take (although I have read some excellent stories involving her). Leta is already so hated and despised in the fandom for essentially being loved by Newt. We love our troubled, morally confused and tragic characters in the HP fandom so please give her a chance whether it's through my story, another story, your own imagination or patience until the movie is released. After all, if Newt is still in love with her after all this time she must have been somewhat special. We will get to the other Fantastic Beasts gang eventually (I am hoping Leta and Tina are as adorable and hilarious in canon as they are in my head), but I really want to flesh out their Hogwarts years and hopefully set up an interesting story for you guys to enjoy. I'm a bit of a chatterbox so I'll try and keep the notes short but thank you for the encouragement and readership! I'll kick it off with a rare moment of happiness for a young Leta and Credence.

The Lestrange residence was a grand, gloomy castle brimming with history, dark magic and power. Hidden by a thick forest and a number of somewhat cruel protective charms against unwelcome members of the community or unfortunate passer-by's, the interior was as just as unwelcome and cold as the outside. With very few windows for such a large residence, the stone walls, archways and staircases were dimly lit with lanterns throughout even the sunniest of days. Ancient, emerald tapestries hung along the walls depicted the proud family's heritage and history in exquisite detail along with portraits of notable ancestors and rows of mahogany bookcases with thousands of old texts. The atmosphere was macabre, daunting and even the more morally questionable wizards would get spine-chilling, heart-racing anxiety navigating the maze of wrought iron dungeons and endless hallways, heavy with curses and secrets.

Even though the castle was haunting and chilling in feel and looked as if had been untouched for hundreds of years, it still held a semblance of opulence and magnificence. There was no dust, grime, spiderwebs or mildew. The arguably most powerful, formidable and richest wizarding family in Britain would hardly keep their family towers as old, slimy dungeons. Well, more so the team of house elves would keep every inch of mahogany polished, books and parchments free of dust, dark rugs kept meticulously clean, centuries old wrought iron without a touch of rust and every dim candle trimmed without a drop of wax on the floor.

Aside from the annual summer months that separated the school year (a period the household would dread), the only thing out of place in the grand abode was the curious, dark-haired baby, the youngest, most recent of many Corvus Lestranges', that had recently and shakily developed the very new skill of taking a few steps (though was still far better and quicker at crawling) and had momentarily escaped the team of house elves that were tending to his basic needs and the housework. He scampered on tiny hands and knees across the dark rugs lining the way of the one hallway he'd managed to get up a few times before the grumpy house elves would retrieve him and place him back in the dark and melancholic nursery room. He stayed closer to the wall, to the faintly lit lanterns so he could see his goal – the staircase!

His dark brown eyes were set firmly on the fun looking set of winding stairs when a blur of light blue caught his attention, a foreign colour in the limited spectrum his world was decorated with. It was a person, taking the steps two at a time at a musical pace. It was not uncommon to see many strange and frightening people descend through the house, but he was intrigued by the hypnotic sway of the pale blue silk dress as the wearer thumped loudly and with purpose with a manner quite different to the gracefulness of her silk robes. She grabbed both of the railings carved serpent posts before lifting herself up on both arms and swinging a couple of times before letting her heeled school boots touch the floor.

"Leety! Leety!" the baby shrieked with uncharacteristic glee and scurried towards the girl who smiled just as uncharacteristically brightly and swung her satchel across her back to scoop the small boy up. He burrowed into her silky robes, nuzzling against the rare warmth and heartbeat of another human being and she squeezed him gently but securely enough that he felt safe and content for the first time since his mother had sent her away.

"You've gotten as fast and strong as a Pixie, Pipsqueak," his sister proclaimed as she kept one hand on his back and used to other to loosen his arms slightly from around her neck, so he didn't suffocate her. "Still look like a pudgy Puffskein in a wig though." She pinched his rosy cheeks which he giggled at and showed her his tongue.

Her eyes widened in joy. "That's right, Pipsqueak."

She had drawn him beautiful illustrations of magical beasts for his dreary bedroom before she left (since removed, she suspected) and one of them was the furry, spherical Puffskein with a long pink tongue.

"To use for eating spiders and wizard bogeys," she had told him when she showed him the pictures. He had looked up at her with big brown eyes and his tiny finger shoved up his nose. "Urgh, just like you."

She couldn't believe he had remembered. Though she wasn't confident anyone had said any more than a few words to the boy in her absence.

"Miss Lestrange," an old house elf looking especially grubby against the lavish surroundings interrupted the sibling's reunion. "It is time for Master Corvus' to break his fast."

Leta's joyful smile and bright eyes reserved only for her creatures and baby brother, disappeared in an instance and her carefully composed cold glare returned. She secured Pipsqueak on her hip and turned to the horrible house elf she had tried so hard to be kind to as a child and long given up on.

"Break his fast? Or break his neck?" she asked sardonically. "Is it toast with marmalade with a sippy cup of Skele-Gro to repair his spine after he falls down this ridiculous staircase?"

The baby in question was batting at his sisters matching blue hat with hungry eyes until she whipped it off and plonked it over his head while maintaining her ire with the house elf.

"We have missed your colourful presence, Miss Lestrange," Krewp the house elf said distastefully. "It will be a pleasure to serve you so much…sooner than anticipated."

"You flatter me, Krewp. But don't pop a bottle of fire-whiskey just yet. I'm sure there's a large portion of the family fortune set aside specifically for bribing the next school I'll be shipped off to by morning."

"Krewp is unsure where Miss Lestrange is being sent next," he glared pointedly at the soil her dirty, once very pretty shoes had trodden into the carpet and whispered to himself though loudly enough for her to hear: "We hope they have the resources to continuously upkeep their halls from the mud on her boots."

"Oh yes, speaking of, where is step mummy-dearest?" she said looking as far down both ends of the hallway as the flickering light would allow. "Is she still hanging upside down from the rafters or has she descended for her breakfast of kittens and small children?"

"Miss Lestranges' tongue has not been tamed by the French school," Krewp muttered again. "Mistress may cut it out. If only she cut off her hands and feet too, then the brat may not bring half the forest in with-"

"Don't worry about it, Krewp. I'll just follow the sound of rage and condemnation and find my way," Leta said impatiently stepping around the house elf. "Besides, even though I've relieved you of your mediocre babysitting skills, I do seem to have made quite of a mess finding the right staircase that led to the one form of human life in this place so feel free to busy yourself with that. It provides a convenient set of directions to the darling Murtlap splashing about in his little aquarium bowl in the entrance hall that you can put by my bedroom door. He is beautiful, but he can give a nasty bite that can cause…well, I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise."

Krewp muttered angrily under his breath before bowing dutifully. "Will Miss Lestrange be needing her owl brought to her chambers as well?"

Leta sighed in exasperation. "My augurey arrived shortly before myself. And I have no need to keep him in a cage. He has the obedience of…well, certainly not myself," she frowned slightly, as she watched the baby in her arms gnaw at the hat with all his strength.

"I trust nothing has been removed my supply? The bicorn horn? Mandrake root?" Leta asked.

"Miss Lestranges'…collection of pests has prevented any of the staff or family entering her disgraceful chambers."

"Good, I think I will prepare a teething potion for this little pest," she thought as she wiggled her finger playfully at her brother who tried to bite at it gleefully.

"Probably why her robes are so dirty and dishevelled. Gallivanting in the woods like an animal collecting disgusting pests to bring into the noble castle of Lestrange-" Krewp said stomping down the stairs.

Leta smirked and continued on her way, thinking of how Krewp would have been a better Lestrange then herself and if her father and stepmother had considered stuffing him into a dress and passing him off as the scandalous smudge on their perfect, poisonous family tree.

She heard voices arguing in the third-floor dining hall, so she placed her brother on the floor of a nearby drawing room. He whined as soon as soon as his bottom touched the floor.

"I'll be back in a minute, Pipsqueak," she smiled and tossed him the hat. "Try and work your way through this until I'm back and then we'll see what we can do about those upcoming fangs, huh?"

Making sure he was free from any harm a baby's curiosity could invite, she closed the door over slightly and secured her satchel a little tighter and she walked towards the dining hall.

She had become desensitised to fear when it came to her family long ago. Physical and verbal attacks, beatings, confinement, and the occasional curse had become at most, wearily tiresome in their frequently.

She would joke that they were losing their touch to which she would dearly pay but it was worth it every time. She knew that they were aware she was becoming further out of their control each day which is one of the reasons she had been sent to Beauxbatons Academy for Magic.

The beautiful, grand chateau in Southern France was ostentatious in its magnificence but was still willing to accept a substantial amount of gold in exchange for admitting a student younger than the traditional enrolment age of most magic boarding schools.

Also, the fact that it was further away from the other magic schools meant her antics and attitude would bring embarrassment on her family name in front of a far less audience of pureblood wizarding heirs that they associated with.

Unfortunately for her, it did not work in her favour the opposite way. She suspected students from Castelobruxo to Uagadou to damn Ilvermorney were well informed of her family.

But she had grown to not be afraid of the students who were not only older but immediately hostile as soon as her name was called off the parchment, just as she had grown to not be afraid of her legal guardians, or parents as she was often told to refer to them as. Well, one of them.

Though it didn't mean she wanted her baby brother to be afraid. She wouldn't show them this worry of hers as the only reason she suspected they didn't throw him from a tower to punish her was that he was their only, respectable heir.

So, she would wash the blood from her face and become well practised in not wincing when he clambered on to her, wearing longer sleeves even when it was warmer (not often considering the constant chill through the castle) and keeping him well out of the way when there was potential for confrontation which was rather regularly.

She jauntily strolled into the opulent room to interrupt the hysterical woman.

"Bonjour père!" she announced cheerily to the man who had her back turned to her, watching the enormous fireplace as his wife stood nearby with her arms folded. Leta dumped her bag on the floor noisily and slumped into the chair at the head of the incredibly long mahogany table opposite the adults who were generating waves of fury.

Clarisse Lestrange, immaculately dressed with exquisite emerald jewellery and a bun tighter than the hold she wished to have ar0und the young girls neck, glared furiously and turned to her husband.

"I've corresponded to the headteacher herself, Corvus. I doubled then tripled the galleons you had offered for…previous incidents and they have made their position quite clear that no amount of gold would suffice having…," she gestured in revolution in Leta's general direction who was resting her ankles on the table edge and watching with mild amusement while deciding whether she could antagonise her father's wife into acknowledging her today.

"This is the second school that has expelled her, and she isn't even of age to have bled yet-"

"Bled?!" Leta suddenly interjected with disgust and confusion.

"Trust me, Corvus. We must find a family desperate enough to rid her too once she's able to child bear before she burns through every school on the continent and desecrates our name to the point where we not even the blood traitorous Weasley clan would have her."

"Ever so classy, Clarisse. You have to spend your free time concerning yourself with my marital future because yours is so grim."

"With any luck, whoever the unfortunate soul is might be able to teach her some discipline better than we have managed," she smiled darkly for the first time since Leta stepped foot in her presence. "I swear the insolence of this impure brat casts a bad image on us all. And if she hasn't tarnished our name enough at Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, she's returned today of all days to embarrass us in front of our guests no doubt."

"Yes, Clarisse. I released BB's horribly mistreated Abraxans who were being slave-driven pulling those carriages without rest just so I could be thrown out again and walk two hours – yes thank you for forgetting to have me collected, father – back to this slimy dungeon just to enjoy the pleasure of you and your band of delightful serpents. If those periwinkle ditzy idiots weren't starving those poor creatures and having them live off nothing but single malt whiskey-"

"Loleta," Corvus finally whispered, closing his eyes and refusing to turn from the flames to look at his daughter.

"Corvus, we must prepare for the hunting day with the Sacred families this afternoon," Clarisse said, annoyed that the girl's presence had been acknowledged by her husband. "We will organise a place for the half-blood ignominy later. Hopefully one that will destroy the collection of vermin she carries with her upon arrival."

"I feel sorry for the poor ambitious soul who tries," Leta smiled slightly standing up from her chair. Clarisse knew she had touched a nerve but Leta could touch nerves too and far more devastatingly.

"No wonder she identifies better with those pests than people. I don't know any decent, respecting wizard who could fraternise with such an ill-tempered, disrespectful, filthy half-blood-"

"Well, a decent, respecting wizard is a bit of a stretch, but I know that daddy dearest used to have an affinity for half-"

The jet of light hit her in the chest, violently sending her flying backwards and smashing into an ornate drinks cart.

"YOU WRETCHED, UNWORTHY, DISGUSTING GIRL! YOU SHOULD BE SO LUCKY THAT WE ALLOW YOU TO EXIST TO BESMIRCH OUR NAME. YOU MUST EXIST PURELY FROM THE REPULSIVE WOMAN WHO SPAWNED YOU. I DON'T BELIEVE THERE IS A SINGLE DROP OF LESTRANGE IN YOU-"

Corvus Lestrange finally turned around with a blank expression, while his wife screamed and threw curses, to see his firstborn on the floor among the splinters and shards, a deep, flowing slash across her chest staining her former schools uniform as she spat out a mouthful of blood and laughed in a way that was so darkly and undeniably Lestrange he knew his wife was dead wrong.

Sulit – something that is worth it.