March 28, 1976 - Hogwarts

Severus stirred his brew carefully, cursing the excited tremor in his hands that threatened to ruin the potion at its final stage. He'd been hesitant - of course he had been - to perform a ritual recommended by the Dark Lord, but truth be told, he'd do it again in a heartbeat, if only for the results.

The powers granted to him had not been obvious; the magic was much subtler than simple knowledge of the potion's recipe. It had just been a feeling, a kind of certainty that he would be guided in the right direction should he attempt to brew it again. And he had been - his hands guided unconsciously through the intricate, exact steps.

He rested his stirring stick against the table, exhaling deeply. He'd skipped the day's classes, as even an entire weekend spent toiling away in the dungeons had not been enough to perfect the brew. He was exhausted, hot, and utterly ready to collapse onto the floor, but he could not give up now - not when he was so close to the end, not when his cause was one of such importance.

He sprinkled powdered unicorn horn onto the deep purple liquid, until it formed a thin, shimmering film overtop it. There.

The adrenaline left him in one wave, and he fell back onto his stool, breathing hard, but with a wide smile threatening to split his face. He pushed back the hair from his face, satisfaction filling his entire body.

Now, to get the potion to Lucius, without the Dark Lord finding out.

April 5, 1976 - Hogwarts

"What is that?" Regulus asked, nodding towards the parchment Severus held in his arms. "It's shimmering."

"Nothing," he answered flatly.

"Oh, come on, Sev," the boy complained, leaning forward. "I'm not blind, it's clearly a magical artefact."

Severus sighed in annoyance. "You are a meddling, nosy, annoying bastard that takes too many liberties, Reg. I see no reason on Earth why I ought to tell you."

Regulus placed his hand against his chest, leaning back against the sofa dramatically. "Oh, how you wound me, Severus. Am I not your dearest friend? A person to share your innermost secrets with?"

"Piss off."

Regulus laughed. "Alright, alright I'll leave you to be, you miserable sod. Want me to tell Cassiopeia you're here?"

"I think I'll manage, thanks," Severus responded dryly, turning back to the fireplace.

"Alright then, see you tomorrow," the younger wizard called. "Night."

He muttered a response, before returning his attention to the map. Cassiopeia had handed it to him this morning - after he'd expressed a desire to study it further - but he'd only now gotten a quiet moment to sit down, late at night.

He held his wand to the parchment, murmuring, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Black ink began to swirl over the yellowing parchment as before, though he soon began to notice that the shapes it formed were... unexpected. Words - three paragraphs of the same messy scrawl - revealed themselves on the page:

Mr. Padfoot would beg Mr. Snape to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business. Mr. Prongs agrees with Mr. Padfoot, and would like to add that Mr. Snape is a bigoted snake. Mr. Wormtail bids Mr. Snape a good day, and advises him to take a shower, the slimeball.

Gritting his teeth, Severus pushed the parchment away, flushing with anger. It hadn't worked - why?

April 13, 1976 - Malfoy Manor

The woman stared at her intently, the corner of her mouth curling into a smirk. "So you're the one our Lord has been making such a fuss about?" She leaned closer, as if to inspect her. "A little pithy, but I can work with that."

Cassiopeia leaned away slightly from the piercing gaze of the woman before her, knowing she had made a mistake when the witch's eyes gleamed with triumph.

"Scared?" the woman laughed, straightening. "We can fix that too; no need to be frightened of Auntie Bella."

"...Lady Black?" she enquired cautiously, frowning. "What exactly do you mean by all of this?"

"Oh, he hasn't told you?" Bellatrix responded excitedly, the gleam in her eye becoming brighter. "I've been given a special assignment by the Lord."

Cassiopeia raised her brow in skepticism. "And it concerns me?"

"Of course it does," she pouted. "I'm to cure you of your misgivings, so that you may become more useful. You're plenty entertaining, I'm told, but so very… delicate," she explained, scrunching her nose up at the last word as though it offended her.

"I'm not certain - "

The woman's demeanour shifted in an instant, her back stiffening, and the amused expression disappearing from her face. "You would deny our Lord?" she asked stiffly, her hand hovering over the pocket of her robes.

"Of course not," Cassiopeia professed, perhaps a moment too quickly. But there was something off about this woman, a feeling that brought to mind the whispers of a hint of madness in the Black line.

Bellatrix tilted her head. "Then why do you object? You'll be in safe hands."

"... Alright."

"Excellent!" Bellatrix squealed, clapping her hands together in excitement. Cassiopeia took a half-step back at her sudden change of mood. "Why don't you come down this evening? I'm afraid I don't have anything prepared right now, and I'll have to ask Lucius to use the dungeons, get the instruments prepared…" she trailed off, and without a second word to her began to wander off, still muttering to herself.

"Isn't it just lovely?" Bellatrix chattered as they walked down the gloomy corridors of the basement. "I wish Father's Manor had this kind of space… I guess I could have had it, but Lucius' eyes have only ever been for Cissy. Shame. We only have two cells, and it's been ages since we've had anyone inside of them," she added with a childish pout.

Cassiopeia frowned, disturbed, and her anxieties were not eased by the strange, muffled noises coming from the distance: faint enough to be unrecognisable, but strong enough to cause her muscles to tense.

"What are those sounds?" she asked Bellatrix, fairly certain the answer was not one she would want to hear.

"The surprise," she responded, smiling. "He was a bit difficult to get on such short notice, but Fenrir wanted to get rid of him anyway."

"Who is… Fenrir?"

"A werewolf; he does some business for the Lord," Bella explained, nose wrinkling. "It's a bit distasteful working with them really - such savage creatures - but they're useful every once in a while."

Alarmed, there was little Cassiopeia could do or say as they arrived at the entrance to the sole occupied cell, which was as gloomy and unlit as the others. Its occupant seemed to have noticed their arrival, for the noises ceased abruptly; Bellatrix's spell brought to life a row of torches, and the dire sight before them was brought into sharp relief.

She'd been prepared - as much as she could have been - to see horrors; what she did not expect, was a child. For a second she was speechless.

"Who is this?" she whispered finally, as Bellatrix looked to her expectantly.

The woman shrugged, twirling her wand. "One of the pack - a weakling. He's using up their supplies, and he won't even survive the next shift. Really, it's a mercy to bring him here."

She paused for a second, as the child looked to her with wide, terrified eyes. "Sorry that he's so dirty," she added, her tone seeming genuinely apologetic. "I wanted to have some fun beforehand, but I forgot to tell the elves to clean him up."

"It's… alright," Cassiopeia answered slowly, certain this must be some kind of illusion, some kind of dream. She shouldn't be here - should be upstairs getting ready for bed, not staring into the eyes of a malnourished, blood-covered eight year old, helpless to do anything.

If only she could do something, keep Bellatrix from hurting the boy further - "But, Lady Black, do you not pity them, somewhat?"

The woman tilted her head. "It's just a werewolf, is it not? No different than a dog."

Cassiopeia frowned slightly. "Dogs, then - are they not deserving of some kind of consideration?"

Bellatrix gave a huff of amusement. "This is why I didn't believe the Lord at first, when he said you were pure. You act like a Muggle - no sense of entitlement whatsoever. You allow others to disrespect you."

"This child does not disrespect me."

"Its mere presence defiles you," Bellatrix countered simply, as though such things were the mere facts of life. "I didn't understand when I was young either," she added, seeming lost in thought. "Father had a dog once; he had to kill it after it went against his orders. I remember being sad…" she trailed off, shaking her head. "It deserved its fate - I came to understand that. I hope that soon you will too."

"I - " she didn't know what to say, " - I do not think I can. If the werewolf is like a dog, then I do not see how we should hold it accountable for its faults. I do not see how we can kill it."

"If its presence is disadvantageous, if it ceases to be useful, what else can you do?" she asked in response, gesturing towards the child, who had crawled away from them, pressing his back against the wall.

"Leave them to die? Refrain from inflicting suffering onto them?"

"Ah, but where is the fun in that?" Bellatrix asked, and with a flick of her wand, slashed a weeping cut across the child's legs. It screamed out in pain.

"Stop," Cassiopeia commanded tightly, unable to look away from the rivulets of blood that now painted the boy's entire calves. "I don't want you to hurt him."

She lowered her wand, and the boy whimpered. "Give me a reason why I should," the witch responded lightly. "Who am I in hurting him but a... harbinger of justice?"

"You are - not right in the head," she said.

"I've been told that before," she shrugged, "though I don't reckon it's true. I just… enjoy what I do: what I've been raised to do, and what I've done all my life. Can you blame me for that?"

It seemed she did not expect a response, for moments later, she began once more to attack the boy, unleashing an endless barrage of spells, of pain onto his frail, trembling body. Cassiopeia wanted to flee, to knock the wand from her hands, to do anything but stare, motionless, as every previously clean inch of his skin was painted red.

Her mind blanked as the minutes passed, as the screams melded together into one continuous, horrific cry of pain. She could not stop herself from looking at the boy, could not stop seeing his wide, accusing eyes even as his face was drenched in blood, and the skin mutilated with wounds. His little brown eyes - so much like Remus' - full of pain and torment; screaming at her to help, filled with condemnation when she made no move to do so.

The screams echoed in her head, long after he'd lost the ability to make any sound. Only perverse, demented laughter now filled the room; unending as Bellatrix revelled in her work, in the horror and the pain.

She gripped her arm, letting her nails gouge the skin, tear through it as she fought to regain control. She shouldn't be here. Why? Why did she have to hear the cries, see the wounds, smell the coppery blood - why?

Was this - this monster - who she was to become? No; she could not, would not - no.

She fled.

Why?

Why?

Her lungs burned as she tried to outrun the images seared into her mind, the crushing guilt. As if she could.

She slammed into a wall of black, and she fought to push it away, to escape from its grasp - goddamnit let me run. She could still see, could still hear - she had to run, to keep moving, to get away.

Darkness overtook her.

He didn't remember, looking back on it, why exactly he'd wandered into the dungeons. Perhaps it had been Bella's almost uncontrollable excitement at dinner, or her curious inquiries into his associates: Fenrir and the rest of his pack, but something had urged him to go check, to make sure all was well.

He hadn't gotten to, of course, when his path was interrupted by the girl, pale and trembling, frantic and tearful, as she fled, and as she slammed into his body, her eyes almost unseeing. He'd frozen, for a second, as her skin made contact with his, a sensation both delectable, and almost impossible to stand.

It had been impossible to decipher the words she spoke, as she blindly fought against him, her breaths short and shallow, every muscle in her body screaming tension.

At a loss for how to stop her hysterics, he'd apparated her away. She did not calm, but kept fighting him, incoherent and frenzied, her movements strong, but uncoordinated and blind. His patience ran out at once.

"Cassiopeia!" he snapped finally, pushing the child away from him in one fluid motion. She stumbled back, her eyes wide, and she froze for a moment, before falling to her knees.

Sobs wracked her body, and she covered her face with her hands, unable to muffle her cries. She was still saying something, still muttering under her breath, but the words did not become any more clear.

What in Merlin's name had happened to her?

His brow furrowed as an idea appeared to him, and his curiosity overwhelmed the indignity of kneeling at the girl's side.

"What is the matter?" he asked, making his voice soft. She did not answer, and his lip curled in anger, but finally he was able to make out her words:

"Make her stop, make her stop - "

"Bellatrix?" he asked, and the girl only sobbed harder. He snapped his fingers to summon his elf, instructing him to do so - to end whatever was going on in the dungeons. The creature bowed, its head almost touching the floor, before it disappeared away.

"Did you tell her to show me that?" the girl asked when it had left, her scratchy voice barely above a whisper. She did not move from her position on the floor; her hands trembled under the weight of hear head.

He stood from the floor, crossing the room. "I cannot tell you - I do not know what you saw."

She gave a sharp jerk of her head; she would not tell him.

"If it is as I suspect, the answer is no. I told Bella little, only that I wished you to learn to withstand the sight of more… unpleasant images," he explained. "I suspect she got carried away."

The girl descended into another round of sobs, curling in on herself until she resembled a small, trembling ball on the floor. Certain of her mental exhaustion, he let her be, and quietly moved to his desk, where his hand twitched towards his wand, as he considered what Bella's punishment would be.

Any other person, and he would have barely cared, but the child - he had plans for her. If Bella had broken the girl beyond repair, she would face his wrath. Either way, however, he needed a way to keep her in check, a way to assert himself over her.

Ah, perfect, he thought, an idea starting to form in his mind. He hoped Rodolphus would not be too opposed, but in the end it mattered little - he would get what he wanted one way or another.

Turning back to the girl, he noticed that she had quieted, and her breaths had evened out. Curious he walked to her, and frowned his suspicion was confirmed - she had fallen asleep.

Why had he even brought her here? he thought with annoyance, levitating the girl into the air. For a half-second he turned towards the door, before sighing, and placing her on the sofa, careful to keep her from hitting her head. He'd always wanted to live in a manor such as this - before he'd realised how much of a pain it was to traverse it.

Damn it.

Alright, he'd let her sleep, and as soon as she woke up, he'd kick her out. This invasion of his privacy made his skin crawl, but perhaps a demonstration such as this would work in his favour. Yes…

•••

My greatest apologies for not updating last week - I was feeling awful for several days after a surgery on Friday, and just could not summon the energy to write. I've tried to make up for it this week with a longer chapter, so I hope you liked it. My next school year starts on Wednesday, unfortunately, which could mean I will have to skip some weeks, or write shorter chapters. Hopefully not, but I will have to see how much work there is to do. Thank you to SilentMayhem and Stephanie MRV for their help, and have a lovely week, everyone.