Cassiopeia flinched away from the hand that gently woke her, curling herself into a little ball, shaking in fear. She was exhausted and sore, but all things considered, not in a as much pain as she should be.

"Shh Cassie, it's alright. Mummy is here now" she heard the gentle voice of her mother as she pressed her hand against the shaking girls head.

When pain wasn't immediately forthcoming she hesitantly looked up at the woman, her eyes wide.

"My dear, sweet, disobedient daughter" she sighed, sitting on the bed. "You know I had to punish you darling. But the Dark Lord honoured you by healing your wounds himself. Come, I want to see my daughter, it has been too long."

Cassiopeia was covered in a cold sweat and her heart was racing. But her mother seemed calm, lacking the crazed energy that preceded violence. She uncurled at her mother's insistence and allowed herself to be pulled up.

Cassiopeia felt warm and uncomfortable standing in her mother's scrutiny, adrenaline coursing through her system and yet struck by paralysis.

"They said you were something of an expert in spell theory," she mused tracing the runes hidden in her tattoos. "Protection, healing, strength, peace, obfuscation." She read aloud, following the spell patterns.

"And what creatures, thestrals mingling with oh- what is this?" She paused on a screaming mask on her inner bicep.

Cassiopeia coughed uncomfortably, her mind flashing back to that awful day. She hadn't intended to get that moment immortalised in a tattoo, she had been sketching it for her report when one of her muggle friends saw it and insisted on tattooing it on her.

"A Lich's phylactery of sorts."

She hummed, tracing the symbols on the mask, "Yes I had heard you faced one at the age of 18. Impressive that you are still here. But of course why not, you are my daughter after all. When I was 18 you know, I had already been marked, I had become the first woman to become a Death Eater" She smirked and continued her examination.

"My mother would have been scandalised if she could see what you've done to yourself. You've shaved your hair off darling." She sounded amused.

"You're mom?" Cassiopeia had never thought about her grandparents before. She had never thought of her mother as a child who had rules to follow.

"Oh yes. She was a hag of a woman, you would've hated each other most probably. Very traditional woman. She'd of had you married by now, someone respectable no doubt. Pushing out little pureblood babies." She scoffed.

Cassiopeia fidgeted nervously, was her mother leading into something?

"But you're not scandalised?" She finally asked hesitantly.

Bellatrix laughed so suddenly Cassiopeia flinched. "Of course not, You are my daughter, you are going to be something much greater than a breeding mare." She grinned, a calculating gleam in her eye as she grasped her daughters hand, squeezing it firmly, brushing her fingers across her scarred knuckles.

"Oh Cassiopeia you've made many mistakes in my absence, but I'm here now, there's nothing you've done that we can't undo together." Cassiopeia swallowed nervously, dread filling her. This was the moment she always feared. They made fun of her, told her she was paranoid, that it was impossible but here she was, being pulled onto a couch by her mass murdering mother who was promising she was never going to leave her again. Her life was over.

She turned into her mother's embrace, wrapping her arms around the woman, hating herself and the tears welling in her eyes as she squeezed her mother tight. Being around her, hearing her voice, taking in the familiar smell of her shampoo and perfume-it brought her back to a sense of home, of her early childhood, memories of craving her mother's love and suffering under her punishment.

They spoke for most the morning, Cassiopeia telling her mother about her life, at least the parts she knew the woman would approve of. She talked about the orphanages, about Hogwarts, her job, interesting spells she's come across. Bellatrix listened patiently, twining her fingers through her daughters curls.

In all of her nightmares, her most vivid memories she never remembered her mother like this. She was calm, almost a normal human being.

It was a revelation, that this woman could be more than the infamous criminal and most loyal follower of the Dark Lord. Here she was a woman very much like Narcissa. Clearly well bred, intelligent, and curious. She wanted to know her daughter, everything about her. She wanted to hear stories of her time at school, she wanted to know about her interests, her favourite foods and what she liked to do in her free time.

Bellatrix wanted to know who she was as a person. She fingered the scar where her bracelet once stood-the only marking of its place and sighed.

"This was possibly the best piece of magic I ever created," she said sorrowfully, looking at the scar curiously. "Even the Dark Lord himself had to burn it off of you. Only I could've released the spell harmlessly. It sustained me you know, connected us-even in Azkaban I could feel you, when you were angry or upset, or particularly happy." she sighed wistfully.

"It saved me," Cassiopeia whispered, she had an idea of what the bracelet did, and the Dark Lord confirmed it when he removed it from her. But to hear it directly from her mother was something else. "I was in a bad situation, and it saved me." She had heard her mother then, heard her speak to her.

"I know," Bellatrix was equally quiet, the gleam of insanity appearing in her eyes as she recalled the day. "That was when I knew you had figured out the true extent of the charm. You stopped trying to break it then. Don't look at me like that Cassie, of course I felt your pathetic attempts at breaking this curse." She teased, her eyes sparkling.

"You killed that man, the one who hurt you. I felt it, I could feel your anger, your bloodlust as you got your vengeance. You feel it too, the euphoria, the joy in violence-it's like a drug, the exhilaration as you exert your power over another." She looked crazed as she spoke about the feeling, a feeling Cassiopeia was very familiar with. "You'll do great things for the Dark Lord Cassie, great things indeed," she whispered, pulling her daughter close.

Cassiopeia felt sick and certain she was right.

Xxxx

He came to her like a dream in the middle of the night.

She wasn't sure when she woke up or if there had been anything in particular to cause it. She just was awake and aware of him.

There were two chairs and the remnants of a fire burning, the embers glowing a deep red, lighting the room just enough to illuminate his form.

He was different this time. Taller, thinner, more inhuman and yet he radiated power, charging the air around him.

Join me.

She heard the words whispered in her mind, the only indication it was real was the incline of his head. An invitation. A command.

She got out of bed and slowly made her way towards him, her mind flashing back to the first time she ever met him. He had been drinking then, and seemed so much larger then.

She was grown now and he was much more frightening now.

She kneeled before him, bowing her head and trembled in his presence. He seemed amused by this, leaning forward resting his elbows on his knees as he took drank her in.

She was shaking like a leaf in his presence, terrified and overwhelmed and she nearly flinched when he reached out to cradle her chin. Slowly he pushed her head up, she kept her eyes averted, focussed on his hand, his wrist.

"Look at me."

It was the softest hiss, closer to that of a snake than a man and caused chills to erupt across her body.

She looked at him. Locked black eyes with red.

He was everywhere and everything. He filled her skull with his presence as his hand tightened on her chin. She was powerless, completely enthralled by the man in front of her, totally at his mercy.

He took his time with her- going through her mind memory by memory, learning all of her secret desires, her shameful secrets, and her quiet yearnings. He saw her fears, her vulnerabilities and her weaknesses. He lingered at some memories, and tossed others aside.

She wasn't sure when he withdrew from her mind, she only registered a change as he released her chin and sat back, his hands steeped as he examined her.

"You do not believe in my cause little Lestrange." He stated simply.

She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, making eye contact once more. "Does it matter if I believe? I was born for you my Lord. I belong to you." It was said simply and she forced her resignation and acceptance of the fact towards him.

She showed him how hopeless her situation was, and helpless. She was no longer going to run from him. There was no point in it.

He dug deeper into her mind, no longer being gentle. He tore savagely through her memories, sneering at the private thoughts she had. She found him distasteful and thought his followers were nothing more than common thugs or rich aristocrats that preferred to leave the messy work for the help.

She was afraid of him and yet found him mesmerising. A horror she couldn't look away from. Her mind was filled with thoughts that would've gotten many others killed.

And yet at the very core of it, the burning nucleus of her being he saw the truth. Resignation mixed with bitter self contempt.

Self loathing and a steely conviction. She believed she was a monster. That her penchant for violence and curses was written into her very fabric of being. She believed that the only reason for her existence was to cause pain and chaos in his name. She thrived off of violence, lived for it, and got lost in it-often leading her to do monstrous things. She hated herself for this and she was resigned to her fate. Accepting it with a hollow hopelessness that pervaded her being and fueled her rage.

She would be faithful not because she worshipped him like her parents. She would be faithful because she believed that she was put on the earth to be his weapon. To use as he pleased.

He was satisfied with that and oh did he have plans for her. The longer he spent in her mind, examining her psyche, understanding her better than she did the more captivated he was with her. She was ruthless, obedient and bloodthirsty. She didn't fawn over him like Bella did and she never would. But she would kill for him. Unquestionably.

"You grew up in Orphanages—muggle ones. Tell me little Lestrange were your caretakers religious? Did that make you go to bible study?" His voice was high and mocking.

She coloured under his gaze, thinking back on her time in the muggle world. Yes. Her first group home had a pastor come in weekly to talk to the kids and hold bible study—she had been forced to go until she made enough of a nuisance of herself proving she was more trouble than she was worth.

She didn't need to tell him. He was still there, in her mind, watching it work.

"In their superstitions, they have an angel, Gabriel who is the left hand of God. An avenging angel who destroyed empires in his name. His weapon to carry out his will." He sighed, brushing her hair out of her face, looking deeply into her eyes, entranced by her mind.

"Is it true Little Lestrange? That you are mine? Will you fulfill every task I give you, regardless of your personal feelings? Will you kill in my name even if it disgusts you? Torture for me even if it makes you sick?" His voice was so soft, and he was still in her mind.

Again she remained silent. He knew, he could feel her hatred, her revulsion at the very idea. He also saw her acceptance of her fate.

Yes. She would unquestionably follow his commands.

"I have plans for you little Lestrange. Big plans. You will be feared above all others, perhaps even more so than your parents. I will teach you, shape you into my weapon. My flaming sword, my left hand." He pushed images into her mind, visions of her bloody on a battlefield, standing over the bodies of his enemies. A warrior, a vengeful demon who punished all those who dare defy him.

She felt sick.

"Sleep now Lestrange. You will need your strength tomorrow."

He watched her as she crawled back into her bed, picking up a glass of amber liquid, making no move to leave her room.

Xxxxx

Cassiopeia woke with a small yelp to a sharp stinging pain in her side, her body immediately shying away from the phantom weapon digging into her side. She sat up quickly, her hands already searching for her weapons, her knives and wand, whatever came to hand first to defend herself.

"Looking for those?" her father sneered, gesturing to the bedside table where her personal weapons were located, his wand still pointed at her. His eyes were dark as she remembered, gleaming with a righteous anger as he took in the young woman in front of him.

"Up, now. You are needed." he grunted. He watched her closely as she re-armed herself. It was clear he didn't trust her.

"Father." she said cooly, turning to the man who terrorised her so callously for most of her early life.

"Daughter." he returned, never once lowering his wand.

The two examined each other closely, taking in the changes the years had brought, sizing each other up in case they ever needed to fight. Azkaban had not been kind to him, and he looked half mad as he glared at her.

"I am pleased to see you father. Truly." she said finally, bowing her head in respect for the man.

"I am disappointed in you. The Dark Lord should have killed you for your insolence. Look at you, muggle clothing, that hideous artwork across your body, and what in the bloody hell have you done to your hair? You look nothing like a proper pureblood woman should, and you act like a self righteous blood traitor. You are a bloody disgrace and will remain so until you convince me otherwise." His clutched his wand tightly as he spoke, his anger rising with every word as he took in his daughter, in his eyes a traitor to the cause.

She clenched her jaw as he took his verbal abuse, lowering her eyes in the way all pureblooded women should in the face of their elders. Her father wanted her to be subservient, he wanted her to be like another pretty thing on the sidelines, something to be seen and not heard.

Her father was too old fashioned for her taste.

"I acknowledge your opinion father, and I accepted the punishment for my indiscretion." she started meekly, the picture of pureblood womanly submission.

"But you forget, I am my mother's daughter. Don't you worry, I will earn my place as one of the Dark Lord's favourites, redeeming my slight on the family name. But I owe you nothing father, not respect nor obedience, because you have no power over me. I suggest you either get behind me or get out of my way. Now go, lead the way, I do not want to keep him waiting for any longer. He has been patient enough as it is." Her eyes were blazing in rage and she felt a nervous energy overtake her.

She wasn't going to cower in front of her father like she did all those years ago, and she wasn't going to work for his love and acceptance, because Cassiopeia realised something in that moment. Her fathers feelings towards her meant nothing compared to the Dark Lords opinion. He was mentally unhinged, barely useful, and he had given her up as a child to serve his master. She didn't fear him because he was no threat.

She walked with her back straight and her head held high to the Dark Lord, dutifully falling to her knees before him, kissing the hem of his robes and waiting for permission to move. She had done this many times as a child, and it didn't take much for the memories to come back, she wasn't running from her fate anymore, she wasn't hiding. She was going to do everything she was raised to do without question or regret.

"Little Lestrange. I have a present for you, a gift to celebrate this momentous occasion a lifetime in the making." He motioned for her to stand, to take in her environment.

There were other Death Eaters standing in the room, in a semi circle around them. Her mother and father of course, unmasked, standing closest to the Dark Lord and the bound gift on the ground, her father looking on with anger and her mother's eyes shining with glee and excitement. Beside them was her uncle Rabastan, pale and gaunt as his brother. There was Lucius Malfoy, she recognised his grey eyes glittering through his mask. Snape was there too, standing off to one side, his eyes empty as he stared on at the scene. There were a few others, wearing masks that she didn't immediately recognise, to have such an audience was telling in and of itself.

She almost didn't recognise the man at first, the overweight muggle who was bound and gagged. He was a large man, though not as large as she remembered him being, pudgy in a way that suggested he was once physically fit in his youth, but had let that muscle turn into fat. She exhaled softly, her eyes narrowing in hatred, the smell of stale lager and fags taking her back to her childhood.

She had been 10 when she moved into his group home. He had destroyed all of her things, pinned her to the ground, and threatened her. He had beaten her viciously, broken her arm in two places and locked her away without food in a dark room. He was a pig who ruined the lives of all the children who were unlucky enough to be placed in his home.

"A gift indeed My Lord." she murmured, stewing in her anger as she took in this man.

"You seem so fond of muggles my little Lestrange, even going so far as to prefer their fashion." he sneered, his eyes flicking up and down her form.

A few of the attending Death Eaters snickered at her, joining the Dark Lord in his mocking. She narrowed her eyes at them, her lip curling, as she launched a volley of spells their way.

"Ah, let's save that energy for our guest." he continued, deflecting her spells away from his followers, enjoying the fire of anger in her eyes. She turned back towards him, lowering her eyes respectfully as she fought to subdue her temper.

"What would you have me do to him My Lord." He watched in amusement as she fought to keep her raging emotions under control, her disdain for those who laughed at her and her anger and hatred of the man in front of her. It was a delightful sight.

"Your parents promised you to me, a perfect warrior to fight for our cause. You claim you are willing and able to fulfill that role. Now is the time to prove it, Show me. Show us what you are capable of. Show us the best the Lestranges can offer."

She nodded, sparing a brief glance at her parents before turning to face the muggle fully. She pulled all of her anger and hatred for this man, for her life, and for her time in the muggle orphanages to the surface, cracking open a carefully buried and controlled well of rage she had spent years trying to rein in deep in her chest. She revelled in the numbness that spread through her body, the cold fury pulsating through her body in time with her heart, her eyes flashed red and she wanted nothing more than to take all of her anger out on this one person. She wanted to punch him, kick him, attack him much in the same way he had done to her all those years ago. She wanted him to feel as helpless and he had made her feel.

"Crucio" the man was knocked back a few feet from the force of her spell, his cries echoing loudly through the room. She revelled in the power that flowed through her, it was like electricity sparking throughout her body, crackling in the air around it, fuelled by her emotions. She got lost in the spell and in her memories of the filth he made her live in.

But it wasn't enough, hurting him this way, it just was not as satisfying. Sure he was in pain, pain she was in control of, but her anger left no marks on his body, no evidence of what he had endured in his final moments. She wanted him to be a warning, to be an example.

With a cry she broke the spell, panting and trying to find a way to satiate her rage.

"P-please." he sobbed, curling into a ball, "Stop… let me go, I promise I wont tell no one, I dun even know you."

She snapped, her vision went red and her head pulsed in pure, white hot rage. She embraced it, let it guide her, and took her revenge with a crying scream.

It happened in flashes, she was yelling at him, screaming obscenities as she vanished his bounds and pounced. He tried to put up a fight, he tried to overpower her as he once had so long ago. But she was no longer a child-she was stronger now.

"Don't you remember me?" she hissed as she straddled him, fighting to keep her balance as he tried to buck her off, her fists slamming into his face, landing with a satisfying slap.

"You owned everything under your roof, including me." She wrestled with one of his hands as he tried to gouge her eyes, twisting it painfully.

"I was stupid, reckless. A waste of money and breath. Those were your words. Dont you remember how you twisted my arm." she growled, twisting his arm in much of the same way, "you broke it in two places that day you arsehole, I wonder how many places i'll break yours in today." She continued much in the same way, physically beating up the man as he tried to fruitlessly defend himself.

"They said I preferred knives. They were right." she was panting, out of breath, the bruises from her parents injuries and the few hits he had managed to land throbbing, and her head aching. She felt the new scars across her body pulling tight as she contorted to keep the muggle below her, and her hot rage was cooling to something less explosive and more deliberate. It was time to end this.

Her knife gleamed in the light, she saw its reflection in his eyes, filled with terror and recognition. "I-Im sorry, Mildred...p-please." he sobbed breathlessly, his whole body shaking as she lowered the knife against his skin.

"My name isn't Mildred Smith. Its Cassiopeia Lestrange." It was the last thing he heard as she ended it, her knife meeting no resistance as she brought the end of his life.

She slumped forward, panting in exhaustion, her head pounding in the aftermath of her anger, and her body aching. She jumped in shock when she felt a hand on her shoulder, the Dark Lord standing above her, his eyes shining with delight as he helped her up from her position on top of the muggle, leading her across the room, one hand wrapped around her shoulders, the other grasping the left hand.

The room was silent with shock as the witnessing Death Eaters stared in expressions that ranged from horror and fear, the only exception of course being her parents, her mother beaming with pride and her father's reluctant approval.

She flushed in embarrassment, brushing her sweaty hair out of her face, feeling ill when she accidentally smeared the man's blood across her face, her knife still in her hand.

She quickly sheathed it, trying to still her shaking hands as the horror of what she had just done set in.

She had killed a man. She had beaten him within an inch of his life, and had ended it cruelly.

And she had enjoyed it.

"A crude demonstration little Lestrange, but enlightening. Kneel." he commanded softly.

She obeyed without question, feeling numb with the shock of the situation, and how quickly her life had escalated.

He didn't ask for her arm, he didn't ask if she would serve him, he didn't need to hear the words again, and he didnt need for her to prove herself capable. He had seen all he needed to and he was quite taken with the Lestrange girl.

He kept his hold on her hand as she knelt, his thumb rubbing against her knuckles affectionately as he took in his newest servant, pleased with what he saw.

He ran his fingers up her sleeve, pushing it back slowly past her scarred wrist to reveal the length of her smooth, pale arm, free from any other adornment. She closed her eyes and exhaled, her face as relaxed as it had been when she had been accepting her punishments the previous day.

He drew his wand, pressing it against her forearm, cradling it with the other, he paused just for a moment, looking at her-thrilled with her performance. He needed more, he needed to feel her, "Look at me," he hissed quietly, squeezing her wrist tightly to get her attention. Her eyes shot open and met his and he was once again in her head, feeling her lightheaded glee from her killing frenzy, getting momentarily lost in it.

He murmured the spell, captivated by her mind once more.

Her face twitched and she let out a short grunt as his magic burrowed into her skin, burning and searing his mark, permanently into her skin. His eyes widened with fascination as he watched the mark catch, and was pleased that she quietly accepted the pain and did not fight him as many had in the past. Her chest heaved, and her eyebrows furrowed as she received his magic, and he was caught once more the in the similarities between her and her mother.

He held her arm for a few moments once he was finished, admiring his work and savouring her pain and shame as he welcomed his newest and most promising follower into the fold.

Cassiopeia couldn't look away from him, she couldn't hide the several powerful emotions that filled her as she took in her mark. She couldn't breath, she couldn't think, and couldn't move. She was hyper aware of the Dark Lords cold fingers, still holding her arm, and the eyes of strangers and friends alike burning into her side. She heard her mother's praise, her pride as she wrapped her arms around her daughter, offering her love and warmth.

She turned into her mother's arms, finally breaking eye contact with the Dark Lord, and buried her face in her shoulder, shaking with the strain and emotion of the day. The Dark Lord dismissed the others, and took his leave, and it wasn't long until Cassiopeia was all alone, taking refuge in the arms of the woman she thought she hated. Cassiopeia squeezed her mother and cried, unable to express all the conflicting emotions she was feeling.

"Shh dear, I know. But mummy's here now, and I will never leave you again." Cassiopeia squeezed her mother tighter and cried harder.

Xxxx

Severus was unusually distracted during the Order meeting later that evening, his mind caught in the violence Cassiopeia so easily gave in to.

He was disturbed, not for the first time, at how savagely she could kill someone, and he found himself doubting whether she could resist the Dark Lord in the long term. He had seen them, had seen the way the Dark Lord so easily entered her mind, how she had let him in.

He was still alive, so he figured she had managed to keep their secrets so far, but the Dark Lord seemed unusually taken with her. He had eyes for no one else, not even Bellatrix as he watched the spectacle. He seemed almost captivated by the girl, forcing her eyes open so he could feel her pain as she took his mark, so he could feel her emotions.

It made him nervous. He had miscalculated just how interested in her the Dark Lord truly was. He had also miscalculated the sheer level of violence she was capable of. She had lost herself, that much was obvious, in the midst of beating the man to death. She gave into the blood lust that was so familiar with her mother, she had enjoyed it. Severus wondered not for the first time if it was worth risking his life, risking everything, to save someone as cruel and violent as this girl.

"Alright there Snape?" grunted Alastor Moody, shaking him suddenly out of his thoughts. He focused on the room around him, noticing the expectant looks around the table.

"Any news Severus?" Dumbledore asked kindly, giving him a knowing smile. He had zoned out of the meeting, tuned them out as he got lost in his thoughts.

"The Dark Lord initiated his newest servant today." he started, glancing at the auror seated further down the table. She stilled, her face paling.

"Cassiopeia Lestrange put on quite the," he swallowed, sneering slightly "show lets say. The Dark Lord is unusually interested in her."

"No," Dora gasped. Molly and Arthur Weasley also looked sick as they processed the news. "She's- we have to help her," Tonks said desperately, looking down the table.

"It's too late for her if she's already taken her mark. Was she forced into it Snape?" Sirius Black asked, "Is anyone forced into their mark," he added pointedly. Snape glared at the man, his lip curling in distaste.

"Rumour has it that she was beaten quite severely by her parents yesterday, the Dark Lord himself had to heal her."

Molly and Arthur grasped each others hand, "Did she look okay Severus?" Arthur asked gruffly.

"As well as someone who beat a man to death could." He hissed, feeling suddenly irritated at everything and everyone around him.

The table fell silent as they processed the news.

"Do we know who he was?" Dumbledore finally asked.

"A muggle man. She knew him-he called her Mildred. She yelled a number of things at him, something about taking her belongings and breaking her arm." he waved dismissively, "she grew a little incoherent in the heat of things."

"I know who he was. The man who ran her last group home in the Muggle world. He had terrorised her, starved her, stole her belongings, beat her, and broke her arm in several places. She still had the cast on when she came to live with us. She hated him, she was also afraid of him, which I think made her hate him more." Dora said softly, frowning deeply, her distress clear in her hair as it changed colours anxiously.

"And her bracelet?" Dumbledore asked.

Snape shrugged, "I did not see it, but that does not mean it is gone." Dumbledore nodded sadly, there was little they could do so long as she had it.

"That isn't Cassiopeia, she is not like them. She is a good person." Molly said lowly, glaring at everyone around her, daring them to disagree.

"No good person beats a man to death." Sirius said simply. "She takes after her parents. She may have fooled you lot, but she is finally showing her true colours."

"Coming from a man who tried to murder his friend." Snape said snidely, glaring down the table.

Sirius flushed, standing so abruptly that his chair knocked back with an almighty clatter, clutching his wand.

"Enough." Dumbledore said loudly, interrupting whatever Sirius was going to say. He looked sternly between the two, "Enough. Cassiopeia Lestrange is not beyond redemption. This is not the fate she chose, but it is the only choice she had if she wanted to live."

"But this isn't the only suspected murder is it?" Moody said gruffly, "the girl is dangerous, impulsive."

"What are you talking about Alastor?" asked Professor McGonagall who looked profoundly disturbed by the conversation.

"Are you going to tell them Tonks or am I?" he looked pointedly to his protege.

Nymphadora for her part flushed, looking both indignant and annoyed as her mentor called her out. "Cassiopeia grew up in violence and responds to violence. She has a lot of unresolved anger and pain, and instead of dealing with it in a healthy way she has always buried it deep. Sometimes, she can get lost in it. I've seen it myself, it's...unsettling." she admitted.

"And you suspect she killed someone while abroad on a research trip." Moody said simply.

"I suspect she hurt someone in self defence. A suspicion I was never able to find any evidence for." she said sullenly.

"Miss Lestrange is a complicated case. And I am concerned at the interest the Dark Lord is showing in her. Keep an eye on her Severus, I fear if we do not act soon then she may be lost to us forever." Dumbledore said quietly, bringing the matter to a close. Snape nodded curtly, his mind going back to the bloody scene from earlier.

She very well could be lost to them sooner rather than later. And that could be very bad for him.

Xxx

Going back to work was difficult. Her whole life had fundamentally changed and yet she was expected to go about her business as normal. As if she didn't sell her soul to the devil.

It was tedious, breaking curses and troubleshooting symptoms all the while her mind was wandering to her after work activities.

Her training sessions.

Every night he had her working with her parents, honing her skills and theirs—which had grown rusty in Azkaban. They were instructed to not hold back, and while Cassiopeia was healthy and fit, her parents knew wicked curses and dark magic she had never dreamt of.

Her mother drew joy out of the fights, the ecstatic glee lighting her eyes as she became reacquainted with her wand.

As for her father, well he disliked her and distrusted her. He used these sessions as punishment, to show her just how underwhelmed he was by her existence.

Cassiopeia was strong, quick, and fit-physically dancing in circles around her parents. All it took was one careless mistake, one brush of their magic and it was over. It was two against one, the odds never in her favour.

She often ended these sessions, bleeding, crying, and a little broken.

And then he would come for her. She began to look forward to his lessons in a sick kind of way in no small part because he offered her one thing.

Relief.

She had been careless, over confident—holding her own for a surprising amount of time against the Lestranges. She had foolishly forgot her mother used more than spells.

She ducked the knife but the movement cost her enough for her father to edge around her shields, his blast hitting her arm explosively-she went numb, dropping her wand and unable to retaliate. Her magic failed and she was handicapped and helpless.

They didn't stop. Most would of, understanding they won and she lost but they did not. Rodolphus was lost in his hate, his mind fragmented and incapable for rational thought in the heat of battle. Her mother was lost in the brain numbing high of violence. They both lacked restraint and they had her in their sights.

By the time the Dark Lord intervened, she was a bloody mess, swimming in and out of consciousness as pain overtook her mind. She could only cry silent tears, sobs requiring too much energy and hurt too badly.

He had been gentle with her, shushing softly as she keened as he picked her up. He murmured words of encouragement, he promised retribution and revenge. He would teach her, show her how to win against them.

He laid her gently on a bed, gentle and careful, murmuring lowly in sympathy.

The world spun and she found it difficult to focus on anything, let alone him.

Her breathing increased and spike with her anxiety as he felt around her injuries, her breath catching in a quiet sob as he touched something particularly sensitive.

"Little Lestrange," he sighed, "I can help you, just say the world and I will support you."

She whimpered, feeling nauseous from the pain, desperate for some kind of relief. "Please," she begging.

He ran a hand through her hair, frowning sarcastically. "Please can mean many things."

"Please my Lord, please make it go away." She sounded pitiful, small and shrivelled, injures and desperate.

"Since you asked so nicely," He bared his teeth in a cruel facsimile of a smile, his eyes greedily taking her in.

Her parents meant pain, inevitable pain. The Dark Lord began to mean salvation.

She looked forward to his arrival as it meant an end to her pain. A balm, and all at the price of her memories.

He would invade her mind as he healed her, guiding her chaotic thoughts as she swam in and out if consciousness.

He spent a lot of time in her mind, she began to associate the comfort he offered with the fullness of her brain.

She would do anything for him during this time. Anything to escape the pain

When he was in her mind everything stilled. Her feelings became muted, her fears and insecurities quieting for the first time of her life.

He calmed her demons.

She basked in his attention, relaxing into his embrace which had once so terrified her, relief coming from everywhere he touched.

He watched her memories of her childhood, replaying them like an old projection, watching and learning.

She began to doubt things she once held to be facts. The Dark Lord showed her, he replayed interactions to adult Cassiopeia, carefully showing her the gaps in her beliefs.

The hidden looks between the Tonks throughout her childhood. The fear and distrust in their eyes.

Her professors at school had been afraid of her, he showed her half remembered conversations—overheard thoughts that were filled with cruel words.

And Dora—She never really cared did she? She had an ulterior motive when she brought her in. She was a young auror, desperate for recognition and fame. What better way than to arrest a Lestrange. That's why she re-entered her life.

Cassiopeia struggles to separate real memories from implanted one. He modified her life, showing her a different perspective. Nobody has ever truly cared for her because she was unlovable. She was violent and talented. She inspired fear and trepidation. The Tonks', the Weasleys—everyone had been nice to her because they were afraid. And a few used her. The Ministry used her to do their dirty work and Glynn used her to fight his battles. Nobody had cared for her.

But the Dark lord cared for her. Genuinely. He let his feelings known as he healed her, and he invaded her mind and became the only thing she know. She could feel his fondness, his obsession as he examined her life. She felt his possessiveness and excitement when he watched her more violent memories. He loved watching her fight almost as much as he enjoyed watching her suffer.

"You need to be strong Little Lestrange. Let me show you, let me teach you," He would hiss as he healed her.

When she was no longer in pain, when it was only phantom sores and quivering muscles still reacting in a pain no longer present she would drop to the ground, on her hands and knees thanking him for his mercy, pressing the hem of his robe against her lips.

Then he would teach her. Every evening until the early hours of the morning the Dark Lord taught her spells. He was overwhelming and all encompassing, pushing himself close to her back as he stretched behind her to adjust her grip. He would gently grasp her waist, sharp fingers digging into her sides as he used his bare feet to adjust hers.

He would whisper in her ear, sending chills down her spine and would tremble with excitement whenever she was successful.

Casting dark magic was exhilarating. The rush of power made her head swim pleasantly, her heart would race and she would be left with a breathless flush. Casting dark magic with him was overwhelming euphoria, the danger and power he exuded making her head spin.

Xxx

It was strange watching her parents together. They bickered and snarled at each other, glaring and growling when the other did something foolish.

Cassiopeia came to a rather surprising realisation during her lessons. She had never really seen her parents together. Sure they stood beside each other, directly to the right of the Dark Lord but outside of Death Eater meetings, they were never together.

And even now when they were forced to undertake a task together they seemed strange-strained. Almost like they didn't actually like each other.

But they were married. They had her. How could they not like each other? They had the same interests, same political ideology, and even the same habits. But they appeared to also share a singular hatred for the other.

There were no gentle touches that Ted and Andromeda had shared. There were no warm looks cast in secret like Lucius and Narcissa had. They were both incredibly similar and yet diametrically opposed.

It bothered her. And that bothered her even more. Why should she care about her parents relationship? It was none of her business and it wasn't like she was invested in it particularly.

She had always assumed Bellatrix and Rodolphus were a match made in hell. They were both sadistic and violent fanatics who dedicated their lives to rebuilding the world into a pure blood autocracy. They worshipped the Dark Lord in their own ways and lived to serve him.

But their distance and dislike of each other confused her. How had they ended up together if they didn't even like each other.

She puzzled over it for weeks, watching them closely and looking for any indication that she was wrong in her initial assessment.

Then she had a session with the Dark Lord himself together with Bellatrix. Cassiopeia felt sick as she watched them together—where she has shied away from Rodolphus she pushed herself at him. She was harsh with her husband, spitting and snarking when he spoke and she had eyes only for him. She was desperate for his attention, for his blessing and basked in his presence.

Cassiopeia felt as if she was witnessing something that should be very private, a relationship that hinted at more. Her mother would do anything for him and she was beginning to realise that she loved him, idolised him, and was obsessed with him.

The Dark Lord made eye contact with her and she felt him immediately, his amusement as he dug through her surface thoughts, "leave us," he hissed at Bellatrix. She didn't miss the dark look her mother threw at her. She was jealous of the Dark Lord's time and those who commanded it.

And Cassiopeia was always alone with the Dark Lord. He wanted to train her himself, he had plans for her and only the best would do. Sometimes their sessions were very physical, with her duelling him or learning difficult magics, and other times he pull her close and dig through her mind, sometimes implanting information, ideas, and images of his magic, other times he would just observe, learn.

She kept her outer mind chaotic, a swirling mess of emotions and thoughts-unfocused and disorderly. He never looked deeper. He never brushed against her hidden defences. Not yet.

She bowed her head, holding her breath as her mother left the room. She stayed bowed until his feet feet entered her line of sight and his fingers curled under her chin.

"So obedient little Lestrange. And so full of questions. You are an adult now, able to comprehend so much more of your world." He murmured. He was in an unusually good mood today, jovial.

She remained silent, watching him. He was in her head, he knew what she was wondering. He also knew that she was afraid of knowing the answer.

"I admit I am fond of your mother," he acquiesced, giving her a grotesque smile, "very different from my fondness of you little Lestrange. I have great plans for you, when you are ready." he inhaled deeply, his eyes shining with a wicked excitement.

"But that's not what you are curious about is it?" he smirked, gripping her chin sharply.

She flushed, uncertain whether she really wanted to know.

"Your blood is Lestranges," he put to bed one of her suspicions, she sighed in relief, she did not want to know more. She did not want to know of her mother's relationship with the Dark Lord. It was none of her business.

"I have a job for you Lestrange." He said finally, pulling himself out of her mind and offering her his hand.

She took it and was immediately whisked away in side along apparition. She looked around her surroundings, her wand appearing in her hand and her senses on high alert. They were in a forest somewhere, it was dark and bitterly cold. She shivered.

"Some abandoned me when they felt the call Lestrange. They tried to run and flee, they betrayed me and must be punished. Just through there is one of the traitors. Igor Karkaroff. I want you to kill him, make him suffer." he spoke quietly.

Cassiopeia swallowed, feeling sick as she understood what she was being asked to do. Her face twisted as she nodded shortly, taking a breath to calm the nausea growing in her stomach as she turned to the forest clearing where she could hear the snoring of a man.

The Dark Lord followed close behind her as she crept forward, her hand shaking slightly as she shivered from the cold and fear.

He whispered in her ear as she worked and he was pleased at her obedience. She was cold and efficient, so very different from her mother. She was nearly clinical about it, torturing the man under his command, and ending it when he ordered.

Bellatrix lost herself in violence, grew impertinent and lacked restraint. Cassiopeia was calm when it wasn't personal, she was controlled in her violence, and she was very attentive to his will.

She was perfect.

Karkaroff was the last of the traitors. His ranks had been pruned and those who deserved their punishment had received it. He was ready to move on.

xxx

"I have confirmed that Miss Lestrange no longer wears her mother's bracelet. She is being watched however, closely by the Dark Lord and her parents, and rarely leaves the manor unless she is going to work." Snape reported dutifully to the order.

"We can help her now, we have to." Tonks chimed in eagerly, looking desperately at Dumbledore, who looked unusually serious.

"Voldemort is still showing unusual interest in her then Severus?" he asked

"Correct. He is training her himself." He said grimly.

He hadn't been able to speak to her. They only ever saw each other at meetings and she was staying at the Malfoy Manor more and more as her lessons continued. She was rarely out of the presence of her mother or the Dark Lord from what he could see.

"Training her for what?" Arthur asked darkly.

He shrugged. The Dark Lord hadn't announced anything but his fellow Death Eaters knew enough to fear her. The Dark Lord had only ever taken on one student before and that had been Bellatrix.

He also had taken a back seat to punishment recently, allowing her to mete out pain as others angered him. She sat to his left, Bellatrix and Lucius to his right. She was never called on during meetings though often talked about.

The Dark lord delighted in telling his followers just what end the deserters found themselves in. He described the different ways she delivered his justice while she stared at the wall in stony silence.

"She looks miserable," he added truthfully.

Low murmurs filled the room as the Order took in the news. It was not looking good for Miss Lestrange.

Xxx

She quit her job.

She was too exhausted to continue pretending. It was best to cut connections early and completely retreat.

Besides working was a fantasy, a way to pass the time until he came back. Her priority had to be with him.

Lionel sat quietly behind his desk, staring at her letter of resignation grimly. She fidgeted, keen to get this over with and move on.

"Are you okay Cassiopeia?" He asked quietly, giving her a very serious look.

She jerked her head in irritation. Of course she wasn't ok. "Fine sir. I just need a change of pace." She said softly.

He remained silent for a while.

"I noticed you changed your name a few months ago." He said

She didn't know how to respond so she remained silent.

"You locked yourself away for a while, turning away all visitors. I notice they stopped recently." He continued

She shrugged.

"I'm not a fool Cassiopeia and I truly hope you do not think me so unobservant as to miss what's right in front of me," he frowned at her.

"My job is to heal people, to help people and protect life. I swore an oath to do this. You are not bound by the same path but I hope you hold the same values.

If you need help, I will try. If you need to heal, come directly to me. But I will not try to sway you from the decision you've so clearly made. It is not my place. I am neutral and will remain so, helping anyone and everyone. Do you understand that?" He looked at her very seriously.

She nodded, her eyes narrowing slightly. He knew. He had to know.

"It was a pleasure working with you and I hope you know what you're doing." He said finally.

She stood, shaking his hand firmly, feeling ashamed at how they parted ways.

"Thank you Lionel, for everything."

He gave her a curt nod, "not the ending I had hoped for." Was all he said before opening the door with a wave of his wand.

She filled her free time training. From the moment she woke up until her late afternoon lessons with her parents she trained.

She built a gym- clearing out a room in her parents old house and filled it with weights and punching bags. She spent hours everyday obsessively working out, preparing her body as the Dark lord prepared her mind.

She didn't see Snape. Or anyone other than her parents and the Dark went to Death Eater meetings but never spoke, and she was only summoned to punish someone. She rarely saw her aunt and uncle, who always made themselves scarce when she was over for her daily lessons.

She felt hollow and broken when she wasn't training. Her mind felt empty without the Dark Lords overwhelming presence. She doubted her memories and her feelings, uncertain of what was true and what he altered or planted.

She did know that despite the Dark Lords regular occupation in her mind he never suspected her Occlumency abilities. He never once brushed across her barriers that she created tightly in the core of her mind. She isolated those memories, rarely drawing on them and never in the presence of another.

For now they were safe. She wanted to keep them that way.

Xxx

"Miss Lestrange finally made an appearance this evening." Snape announced to the room.

The room stilled as they turned to look at him.

"How does she look?" Dora asked anxiously

"Physically She is keeping fit. I understand she has been training with her parents and the Dark Lord," he started before hesitating, uncertain how to best describe her.

"She was quiet during the meeting, unusually obedient. She sits to his left now and—" he frowned, "she appears to carry out his punishments for him. I believe he had made her into his weapon. She does not resemble the same person you knew, he's changed her." He said grimly.

A low muttering broke out across the table. Tonks shook her head, "Cassiopeia doesn't have an ounce of obedience in her. I'll believe it when I see it," she said stubbornly.

"I have not been able to speak to her, but I assure you she is very obedient-a trait I too believed beyond her."

Dora shook her head stubbornly, "she may have closed herself off Snape, but she would never give in totally to him."

Snape wished he held the conviction that young Tonks did. He was concerned about the girl. And for his own safety.

A/N Enjoy! And please let me know what you think about Voldemort and the way he is towards her. He is following classic cult tactics to isolate her, train her, and re program her. Thanks for reading and sticking around! And as always I love hearing peoples ideas and theories! Cheers to the guest reviewer and AvalonTheLadyKiller

tibys