The group home had tried many different ways to punish Cassiopeia, and had never found a way that truly upset her. They tried first to ground her, she didn't have friends to hang out with anyways, and so that was no real loss to her. Then they had cut her television privileges. She had shrugged at that as well, content with her books. They tried to take away her non-schoolbooks, so instead she passed the time working ahead in her textbooks. They forbade her from going to the arcade, that had stung a bit, but not enough for her to really change her ways. The tried physical punishments and were disappointed at the relative ease she shrugged off the pain. They ignored her for a while, hoping her issues would sort themselves out, but they were always brought into her problems at school whenever she got into a fight, something that was a reasonably regular occurrence. They took away her bedding, denied her dinner, and tried to confiscate her cassette tapes. She only stoked their anger as no matter where they hid her tape player and cassettes she always found them within the day, listening to them as if nothing had happened. They gave up when she had somehow retrieved her beloved music after they locked it away in a bank security box. Nothing seemed to work with the girl, and there was little they could do to send her away to another group home.

It all seemed hopeless until one day they accidently discovered the one thing that served as a genuine punishment. They had run out of coffee and had simply forgotten to buy some more. They were not expecting how upset this would make their most unruly resident, but they were pleasantly surprised. It had certainly explained how they were going through so much coffee in the household; Cassiopeia had been stealing several cups a day from them. So as punishment for her latest indiscretion, they no longer stocked coffee in the house.

She was furious. And irritable. It had been two days since her caretakers started their latest punishment for her and she was ready to pull her hair out. She had a pounding headache, her hands shook, and worst of all, she was having trouble staying awake.

She had decided many years ago that sleep was her enemy. She tried to avoid it at all costs, and because of this, most nights she slept about three hours, four at the very most. She used the rest of her time tinkering with electronics, sneaking around the house, and reading. To sustain this, and to fight off the waves of exhaustion she drank coffee by the litre, strong, black, and double brewed if possible.

But now, without her beloved coffee, she was fighting exhaustion at every turn. She was dizzy, weary, and her brain felt heavy, dull. She needed her fix somehow, and she needed it very soon. She was trudging along the well-worn path to the school early one morning when she was struck with inspiration. There was only one person ahead of her on the path, Sarah Bates. Her hair was short, still recovering from her bout of hair loss half a year ago, and was styled very carefully to compensate for this fact. Sarah Bates was a very annoying girl who also happened to be quite wealthy. She knew for a fact that her parents gave her a large daily allowance to spend afterschool with her friends at around town.

Cassiopeia sped up, her burst of inspiration temporarily extinguishing her exhaustion, to catch up with the girl. She grabbed the girls shoulder and slammed her against the wall, "Give me your money Bates" Cassiopeia demanded. The girl looked near tears and with shaking hands quickly dug into her pocket as she quickly handed over a single five-pound note. Cassiopeia raised her eyebrows in surprise, it was more money than she honestly expected.

"Please don't hurt me" the girl flinched away from Cassiopeia, a few stray tears falling down her face. With a final shove she left the crying girl alone, pocketing the money and tried to ignore the niggling self-revulsion in the back of her mind. Sarah Bates had reacted to her the same way many people reacted to her mother.

She tried to distract herself from her unfortunate comparisons between her and her mother, after all that was why she needed coffee in the first place. Every time she closed her eyes, every time she fell asleep she was haunted by images of her early childhood. Her father sometimes played a role in her nightmares, he was cruel to her, but he was also mostly absent, preferring to pretend she didn't exist. Her mother played a much larger role, she was relived every ounce of pain her mother had piled on her, she was haunted by the screams of the victims she had helped her mother torture. She was tormented by her manic laugh, it echoed across her skull, and threatened to drive her to insanity. She had once craved her mother's love, but now she was more frightened of her memory, of her threat of never letting her go. She still had the silver bracelet, stuck on her wrist that would allow her mother to find her wherever she was. They had said she was going to prison for life, but she never knew the results of the trial, she never had any confirmation that she had gone away for life. She assumed the fact she was still in the muggle world was confirmation enough, but what if it wasn't a life sentence? Or what if she escaped? They didn't know her mother like she did, she was unstoppable.

The petrol station loomed ahead. She needed to get a hold on herself, and she needed some bloody coffee.

She entered the petrol station shop, sighing happily at the sight of an admittedly sad looking coffee machine in the corner. She grabbed the biggest cup they had and happily filled it up. She paused, thinking of her new found fortune, and decided to get another cup just in case.

"Mildred?" a puzzled voice called as she was paying for her purchases. She twitched at the ridiculous muggle name, but nonetheless turned to acknowledge the speaker. It was her favourite teacher, Mr. Su and he looked mildly confused and more than a little concerned.

"On your way to school? You're going to be late you know."

She pocketed the change from her purchases and took a large gulp of the coffee, she winced slightly, it was awful but it would do. The pair walked together the rest of the way to the school, Mr Su pushing the bicycle he rode into work every day, and her holding her coffees like a lifeline.

"Rough night?" he asked wryly, watching her dispose of one of the cups, now empty. She scowled, beginning to feel a little more herself as the caffeine took effect.

"Something like that," she muttered.

He paused, waiting for her to elaborate more, "exams?" he asked in feigned nonchalance. She shot him a sideways look and shrugged.

"You know Mildred," he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder, "you can tell me, if you're having problems. At school or at home, or just in general." He smiled softly at her, "I might be able to understand better than you think."

She took a sip of her second coffee, studying him. He seemed sincere and a little sad. She mulled over his words, finding them ridiculous. How could he understand her problems? And yet, maybe it was because her recent caffeine deprivation, or maybe because her fears about her parents hovered so close to the surface of her mind, she relented a little bit.

"Nightmares." She said it quietly and he had to strain to hear her. He nodded, unsurprised.

"Of your birth parents?" he asked softly, the pair resumed the walk to the school. She gave him a quick glance in shock, how had he known?

He smiled at her sadly, "I had a sneaking suspicion, I had the same problem when I was younger." He fiddled with the bell on his bicycle. She nodded, drank more coffee, and looked down at the ground.

"I see my mother. Sometimes I think I'm just like her. Sometimes I do things—" she broke off, surprised at her own candor. She found she couldn't stop now that she started. "Do you know about genetics Mr Su?" she continued as he nodded, "I was reading about it in our biology textbook, and it says we inherit genes, traits from our parents. And sometimes I wonder—"

"If you are doomed to be the same." He finished the sentence for her. She nodded and looked at the ground, wondering why she was talking about this with him. He stopped them once more, put a hand on her shoulder and waited for her to look up at him.

"You've been reading ahead I see," he smiled as he saw the beginning of an embarrassed flush colour her cheeks. "You inherit some things from your parents, physical things like hair colour, eye colour, height, and such. But who you are as a person Mildred, that is all your choice. You can choose to be a different person from your parents. You can choose to be better than them, to have a good life despite them, and to reject their beliefs and actions. You are not doomed to become just like them, you are you." He squeezed her shoulder.

She thought through his words, took another sip of coffee, and mulled over the implications. She could be different from her mother, and it wasn't pre determined. She thought about the woman from the Wizengamot who refused to condemn her for her parent's crimes and wondered if this was the reason. Because she wasn't her parents. She was her own Lestrange.

"I think I understand." She wasn't certain all the implications were clear, but he had given her something to think about. They walked in silence for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts.

"Mildred, if you ever feel like you are acting like your parents, think about how they made you feel with their actions. That's how you're making other people feel when you choose to follow their example. You can be better than them. You are better than them." They had reached the school now, and she was very nearly done with her second coffee.

"If you're still having coffee shortages, stop by my classroom, ill keep a pot on for you, so you can save your money. " They were at the metal rail where Mr Su busied himself locking up his bicycle. The first morning bell rang and there was a flurry of motion as students rushed to reach their homeroom classes.

"I've got to go Mildred, but if you ever need to talk, you know where to find me." He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. Before he could move away her hand darted out to grab his arm.

"Thank you Mr Su. I—" she paused, uncertain, "er, thank you. For everything." She hid her face in her curls and darted off before he could respond. She felt warm, and an almost alien feeling blossomed in her chest and filled her throat. She swallowed thickly, she had only had this feeling with the Weasley's, on her last night with them. She finished off her coffee, shook her head, cursed her foolishness and rushed off to class.

Xxx

She had never confided in Mr Su again, but she thought often of his words. She made an effort to stop taking her anger and frustrations out on other students, she held her tongue when she would have previously mocked, and she didn't start fights anymore. That didn't mean that she was never in a fight again, far from it in fact. Many tried to start fights with her, and she made it a point to always finish them, quickly, decisively, and maybe a little ruthlessly. She may not want to be like her mother, but that didn't mean she had to be weak.

Unfortunate news came on her 10th birthday, she was being moved to another group home. It seemed her frequent run ins with the local police constabulary was cause for some concern amongst those muggles who made decisions. She scowled at the child service representatives, and at her now former legal guardians. They looked very pleased with themselves; they were finally rid of their most difficult resident.

She didn't have much to pack; all her worldly belongings could fit inside her school bag. Nearly all of her wardrobe consisted of school uniforms, she was told to leave those behind, so another child could use them.

Her previous legal guardians had been cold, but they hadn't been especially violent or neglectful. They had done the bare minimum to keep the children alive, and she didn't realise just how lucky she had been there until she arrived at her new home.

The government officials went so far as the front door with her, waiting for her new guardian to sign some documents, like she was an object being delivered. They left without so much as a backward glance.

She eyed the man in front of her suspiciously. He was tall, and might have once been in very good shape, however where there had once been muscles now there were pockets of flab, and he had a very large belly. Inside the house smelled like a brewery, the stale sharp tang of lager pierced the air and mingled with the dust and neglect of the house. Her previous home had been run down, but it was always clean. The entry way looked clean enough, and the pathway to the front sitting room looked acceptable. The kitchen door was ajar, and inside she saw the exact opposite, take away boxes littered across every available surface she could see, and cigarette butts were everywhere.

"Give me your bag." The man demanded, her hand tightened on the strap as she stared at him defiantly.

She gasped as a slap resounded against her skull; she stumbled a little under the force of it. He didn't ask again, he tore the bag out of her hands easily overpowering her.

He emptied the bags contents on the floor, a small pile of cassette tapes, a soldering iron, a few spare electrical parts, and her tape player. "The Ramones, The Cramps, Alice Cooper, Misfits, Dead Kennedys" he paused as he glanced at her, "Sex Pistols. All garbage, corrupting your mind and soul." He carefully opened every cassette box and very slowly, deliberately, pulled the magnetic tape out, tearing it, destroying it.

Her eyes widened in shock and a white hot flash of anger pulsed through her as she watched her music being destroyed. Her knife was in her hand and she was blindly rushing forward at him, desperate to stop him. Her anger turned to dismay when she found that not only was he ready for her, he seemed to have expected something of the sort. He grabbed her wrist twisting it painfully until the knife fell out of her hand harmlessly onto the floor. He continued twisting until her arm was painfully behind her back, before he slammed her down to the ground, winding her.

"They told me that you preferred knives." He replaced his hands with his knee in the centre of her back, pinning her to the floor. She huffed angrily and struggled beneath him.

"You lack discipline. That's something I can help you with. I own everything in my house, and that includes you, and everything you bring with you." He ground his knee deeper into her back. "This music is filth, and I wont have it under my roof."

Angry tears leaked out of her eyes as she fought wildly to get out from under his knee, and she watched helplessly as he methodically destroyed all of her music, one of her only lifelines. He stopped at the tape player, pocketing it instead of destroying it.

"I think I can get a few bob for this, don't you?" with a final warning pressure in her back he was suddenly off her, smiling darkly. "Your room is top of the stairs, first door to the left. I assume there is a bed empty in there." She dragged herself off the ground and glared at him, her breaths still coming out in angry gasps.

He laughed as he caught her eyeing the knife he still held in his hand, "I think ill be keeping a hold of this, for safekeeping." He slipped it into the pocket of his jogging bottoms before he wandered into the kitchen.

She growled as she heard the unmistakable pop of a can opening, and she could faintly hear his loud gulp of liquid. Reluctantly she grabbed her now empty bag, left her destroyed pile of tapes, and went to find her room.

There were two types of children in the group home, some who looked like ghosts, flighty and nervous. They hovered on the edges of the home, never in the open, and always ready to run. They obeyed all orders immediately, and rarely interacted with people. These were the children that were broken.

The other type of child in the home were the survivors, these children were vicious and preyed on those weaker broken children. They stole food, the best bedding, and hoarded the few possessions in the house like treasure. These were the children that worried Cassiopeia; these were the children she would have to dominate.

She knew immediately that she shared a room with one of the latter type of children, a survivor. Three sets of bunk beds were crammed in the room, pushed against the three walls. There was just enough space to open the door; each ladder was a step apart from each other.

The room smelled like unwashed bodies, and all but one bed was bare of blankets and pillows, they only had greying sheets, each stained lining the mattresses. Children cowered on four of the beds; they pushed themselves against the wall and hugged their knees. On the fifth bed, a top bunk, sat an older looking girl, she was wrapped in two blankets, and leant again the wall, using a pile of thin pillows as a rest.

The two girls eyed each other suspiciously, sizing each other up. She was maybe a few years older than Cassiopeia, she certainly looked like she had a height advantage, but she was also thin, frail, and Cassiopeia was healthy, suddenly feeling thankful for the adequate amount of food she received in her previous group home. She threw her bag on the unoccupied top bunk, next to the girl and slowly climbed up. She made a show of testing the bed's comfort, hiding her disgust at just how awful it felt and smelled, before gently resting her back against the wall and making eye contact with the survivor next to her.

"Give me your blanket and a pillow."

The girl sneered at the command, "and who the bloody hell do you think you are?" the girl asked incredulously, squaring her shoulders aggressively, defensively.

Cassiopeia gave her best impression of her mothers smile, "I'm the girl the authorities had to change the name of because of my notoriety. Not someone you want to mess with."

The girl wrapped herself tighter in her extra blankets and sniffed loudly in disdain. "Sounds like bollocks to me, if you want them, come and take them. If you dare."

And dare she did. She launched herself from her bed over to the girls, catching her by surprise with her tackle. The fight lasted less than five minutes, Cassiopeia was ruthless and to the point, incapacitating the girl quickly. She was correct, for now she was stronger than the girl, healthier. She was also rather pleased when she managed to steal the extra bedding without spilling blood on it. The room watched in silent shock and awe as Cassiopeia curled up that night with the only bedding available in the room, feigning asleep under the murderous glare of the now heavily bruised older girl.

It was in the middle of a nightmare about her mother when she felt cold bony fingers close around her neck. She gasped and flailed desperately, her dreams mixing with reality. The older girl was on her bed, straddling her chest, and was slowly squeezing her neck, tighter and tighter. Cassiopeia's chest tightened with anxiety and her vision was starting to go back, she slapped the girls face, pulled her hair, tried to do anything to get her to stop.

Just when she started to fear that she was genuinely about to die, something strange happened. The girl went rigid and then fell limp, falling over the side of the bed and onto the floor, screaming. Her body started to convulse, her eyes bulged, and her face turned red. Cassiopeia panted, taking ragged breaths, her heart was racing and she tried to figure out what was real and what was in her head. She looked over the side of the bed and saw the older girl that had attacked her was panting heavily, crying and cradling her arm close to her chest, seemingly coming out of whatever curse had overtaken her.

She closed her eyes, wiped the sweat off her forehead, and tried to take a few deep breaths, tried to centre her mind, tried to sort through reality and nightmare. It wasn't a mystery to her, what had happened to her roommate. She knew the Cruciatus curse inside out. She didn't intentionally cast it, but between her devastation with her music the day before, her earlier fight, and her nightmare, she must've unconsciously cast it. She peered over the side of her bed tiredly, and saw with some interest that the girl was cradling a burned arm. A burn that was in the shape of her handprint.

Nobody came to investigate the screams coming from the room.

Authors Note: Hi Guys, thanks for sticking through this so far, hope youre enjoying it. If you are, id love it if you could leave a review! Ive got one more chapter written for her time in the muggle world, then we can move on to her return to the wizarding world.