Word spread quickly throughout the Slytherin house. Arlene Roberts and Matilda Cook were sent to the hospital wing by Cassiopeia Tonks. In a matter of seconds, she had managed to hex them into a two-day hospital stay. And she had done it all without losing the house a single point.
The reactions were split, with the majority of the house mostly continued with their indifferent ignorance of her presence. Occasionally a student would nod to her if they happened to make eye contact, but gone was the quiet mocking and whispering from her fellow housemates. In its stead was a quiet respect; in Slytherin it was important to handle your own problems, and to handle them well. She had proven to most of her housemates that she could survive, and that she could look after herself.
Most of the house moved on, but her actions did carry its own set of consequences. Arlene Roberts was a very familiar type of witch to Cassiopeia. She was a witch who believed themselves superior to all others in the magical community. Cassiopeia also knew that Roberts was not the name of an old wizarding family, which meant that she was a witch with a lot to prove to her perceived betters. Her parents' hated witches and wizards of the sort Arlene was, her father found them almost as distasteful as muggleborns, and her mother would relentlessly use them as if they were no better than servants. She remembered them telling her about how pitiful they were, and how she was so much better than them.
She knew of course that her parent's blood purity beliefs were problematic at best. She had seen first hand that muggles had the same range of emotions and personalities as wizards. And she had witnessed Ted perform some reasonably impressive feats of magic, enough to convince her that muggleborns could be just as powerful as purebloods. She also knew that purebloods were a dying breed, and that most the school would be at least mixed, if not half bloods.
But Arlene's actions had caught the eyes of some of what her mother would call the 'right' sort of people. There were old names in the Slytherin house, children from prestigious, old, pure blood families. There were the Avery's, two siblings, a boy and a girl in the second and fourth year respectively. There were the Mulcibers, with a son in the sixth year. Macnairs, a daughter in the fifth year. The Rowle's with a son in the fourth year. And finally a Selwyn, a girl in the third year. These family names were familiar to Cassiopeia, she had known in passing some of their parents. She had heard her parents speak of them, and they all held the same blood purity beliefs she had grown up with.
They had a problem with a fellow Slytherin not only fraternising with other houses, but with blood traitors and Mudbloods. To make her crimes even more reprehensible in their eyes was the fact that she attacked two of her own housemates in defence of a mudblood. They were a minority in the Slytherin house, but they were a powerful minority, and she knew their ire would only grow with time. Especially when they asked around about the Tonks name and made the connection with the burned Black sister.
There was nothing to be done about it now however and she tried her best to put it out of her mind. Something that was remarkably easier than expected. This was mostly due to the fact that after the incident Constance Green was practically glued to her side. Cassiopeia was a little amazed at how dedicated the Hufflepuff girl was to finding her, and though she found the girls company a little exhausting, a small part of her was warmed by the idea of having something approaching a friend.
She also made great strides in befriending Daniel Jones, the Gryffindor first year she shared a transfiguration class. Though Professor McGonagall's opinion of Cassiopeia was severely tarnished by her duelling mishap, she appeared at least slightly mollified by her ability to work with Daniel. The two worked well together, she found transfiguration relatively easy but it was a subject that Daniel struggled in, so she would always spend about half the class gently helping him and encouraging him. It was nice to see his face light up when he finally accomplished the spell, and she felt warm whenever he thanked her for her help and support.
She had never really had friends before, especially ones who were normal and knew her for her, and not for her past and any of the baggage that came with it. It started to become part of her new routine to study in the library or out on the grounds with either Daniel or Constance, or occasionally the pair of them. Daniel was a natural flyer and was deeply fascinated by history of magic, but struggled with transfiguration and charms especially. Those were her best subjects, and she greatly benefited for his support during their flying lessons, and his animated recaps of historical events that normally put her to sleep. Constance also helped Cassiopeia in Herbology and in return she helped the Hufflepuff with her defence against dark arts homework.
As much as she liked her new friends, she was still accustomed to being on her own. She had shaken her new friends with a poorly formed excuse and was reading a book in abandoned corridor that she had taken a particular shining too. The corridor very rarely had foot traffic. It was filled with unused classrooms and storage closets mainly. It was quiet, peaceful, and reminded her a little of her childhood hiding spots in the Lestrange manor. It was a place for her to retreat and hide.
She sat on the hard floor, beside a suit of armour, her back against the cold wall, resting her eyes with a large book open on her lap. She floated in a half sleep half awake state, her mind quiet for the first time in weeks. It was in this state when she was jarred awake by the sound of hesitant footsteps on the corridor. She had been hiding there for weeks and this was the first time her rest and study had been interrupted. A burst of adrenaline set her nerves on edge and brought her to an almost painful state of hyper-awareness. Her hands trembled slightly as she quietly closed the book she was reading and pushed herself closer against the wall, hiding in the profile of the suit of armour.
"Cassiopeia? Are you here?" a quiet voice called, the tentative footsteps faltering in their stride. It was Nymphadora. She took a deep breath and slumped against the wall and tried to still the nerves raging through her blood. It was just Nymphadora, just Dora, nobody else.
"How'd you find me?" She asked tiredly, rubbing her eyes.
"I've been keeping half an eye on you for a few days. Why are you in this creepy corridor by yourself? Are you reading?" she asked.
Cassiopeia took another deep breath before rising to stand to address the other Tonks, and shrugged in response to her question. She didn't want to dwell too much on why she found the corridor peaceful, and trying to explain it to Nymphadora would be an action that would lead to uncomfortable questions. It was better Dora remained in the dark about the particulars of her past; she worried what the girl would think about her if she knew beyond the basics.
"Why were you looking for me?" she asked, leaning gently against the wall, looking at a spot just above Dora's head. Reflexively she buried her hand casually in her robes, fingering her wand. It brought her some relief from the anxiety of being shocked into awareness.
"I heard about the fight you got into, and the detentions." It was the first time she had ever seen Dora look uncertain about something. She remained quiet, waiting for the other girl to continue. A silence reigned between them for a few awkward beats.
"Well, are you going to tell mom about it? Did Professor Snape write a letter home?" Nymphadora's voice was serious, and she was trying her best to catch the younger girls eyes.
Cassiopeia just shrugged and looked at the ground.
"You sent two girls to the hospital wing Cass. That is serious. I heard Professor McGonagall wanted to take you to the headmaster."
"I had to do something. I couldn't just stand by as they teased Green for being a mudblood," she omitted the added bonus of her newfound invisibility within her own house. It had set a very good example of the consequences of aggravating Cassiopeia.
Nymphadora flinched at the word, a reflex from her childhood.
"I understand why you did something, but don't you understand that there might have been a way to do it without sending them to the hospital for two whole days?!" Dora's hair shift colours as she tried to voice her frustrations.
"I haven't told mom yet, but I think you should at least write her a letter. If she finds out about this later and you didn't tell her, she is going to be really cross. Trust me, she grounded me for the whole Christmas holiday in my first year when she found out that I had gotten a few weeks of detention for sneaking out at night." Nymphadora worried her lip.
Irritation started to build in Cassiopeia's chest. Nearly everyone in Hufflepuff thought she was a bloody hero for standing up for their housemate, and yet her own cousin was giving her a hard time for it.
"Look Nymphadora. What's done is done. Let me worry about the consequences."
"But—" The girl tried to continue, a flush rising in her face.
"I can handle myself Dora, and if you don't have anything else to say, then I would like to return to my reading." She was curt, and maybe a little standoffish.
Dora looked like she wanted to say more, but decided against it. With a final pleading look she turned and went back towards more populated corridors of the castle.
Her newfound invisibility continued in her detentions with Professor Snape. He mainly had her disembowelling various creatures, or prepping potions ingredients for his class stores. She preferred her own knife for these tasks, finding it more comfortable in her hand than the ones he provided. Her detentions passed in dull, icy silence, as the professor aggressively marked papers while she worked. He never spoke except his curt instructions at the beginning of the detention, or to dismiss her for the night.
It went like this for a few weeks until one Monday night his behaviour changed. Instead of sitting at his desk, working he instead watched her, his quill unmoving in his hand. She felt her face begin to warm as she noticed his increased scrutiny, determined to not give him any reason to punish her more.
"Something the matter with the knife you were given Miss Tonks." He sneered.
He had her disembowelling a particularly foul creature, some type of reptile it looked like. It was a delicate and slimy job, one that she definitely used her own knife on. The potions knives had a very straight blade, and were of moderate length, making them mildly unwieldy for such a delicate job. This particular knife she had acquired from a hardware store a few years ago. It was a delicate folding knife, with a short, curved blade. It had always been one of her favourites; it was discreet and incredibly sharp. She was so comfortable with it that it felt as if it were an extension of her own hand.
She paused in her work and glance up at him quickly before hiding her face in her mess of curls.
"No professor, nothing wrong with your knife. I just prefer this one."
"Did you know that different metals react with the raw ingredients, rendering some useless?" he drawled, his voice quiet as he scrutinised the girl in front of him.
She shrunk a little under his gaze, her face reddening more as a cold flush accompanied her comprehension of his words. She looked at the pile of animal parts in front of her that she had dissected with dismay. Were they all ruined?
"Luckily for you, stainless steel has no effect on this particular creature. If it had we would be having a very different conversation."
She let out a breathe of relief, at least this batch hadn't been ruined. She'd have to be more careful in the future.
"I am more curious as to why you prefer that particular knife." His voice was sharp, pointed. She continued to avoid his eyes, trying to come up with an explanation for her comfort that seemed plausible.
"I er, just have had this one for a while. I used it a lot when I was a younger. For building things sir." And I used a very similar on people occasionally. She finished the thought in her head.
The professor was silent as his eyes continued to bore into her still figure. Finally after a tense moment his posture suddenly changed as he busied himself with organising papers on his desk.
"Of course. Building things." He finished his shuffling and opened a book, perusing his contents. "Well, we don't have all night Miss Tonks." There it was again, the strange emphasis on her new last name. It irritated her that she couldn't place exactly what was strange about the way he acknowledged her. Just that it was.
Silence reigned for a while in the classroom. The only sounds coming from her careful cutting and the occasional turn of the page from Snape.
"Your mother was rather fond of using her own knives as well you know." She nearly cut her finger open in surprise at his statement. Only years of reflexes saved her.
"Though if I recall correctly, she preferred a more triangular blade, popular on throwing weapons. You appear to be using a skinning blade, more appropriate for the task at hand. And not very useful in building things." He had paused in his reading, his voice was light and matter of fact, and his eyes were probing.
"I—I'm not sure I know what you are talking about." Her mind raced and her blood cooled in her veins. Andromeda had never mentioned any fascination with knifes. Her mother was the only magical person she had ever met that used any other weapon outside of a wand.
His lip curled as he examined the girl in front of him. "Don't play games with me, only a fool would believe that you were a real Tonks." He knew. Her breathing hitched. How did he know?
"In any matter, your mother, wrote to me upon your acceptance informing me of your unique situation. I saw no reason to bring it up."
For a brief moment she thought he had been in contact with her real mother. Her heart froze, but logic dictated that it was impossible for him to communicate with the Azkaban inmate. He must mean that Andromeda told him. But why? To distance herself from Cassiopeia in case of mishaps? Her mind raced with the implications. She carefully emptied her face of emotion, keeping her feelings in check. There would be time to speculate on Andromeda's motives later.
"Why ask now professor? If you've known for months" she barely managed to speak, her face was burning bright red now. Did the other professors know?
"I am simply trying to ascertain whether you are going to be a problem here at Hogwarts Miss Tonks. You have been here for barely two months and have already sent two classmates to the hospital wing. And you share your mother's unfortunate infatuation with knives. There are a few striking similarities."
She squirmed, uncomfortable with his brief assessment. There were more than a few similarities between her and her mother. More than he knew about. Despite that she was desperate to be judged separately of her. She could be different from her mother. She had to be.
"If these unfortunately similarities continue, I will personally escort you out of castle and oversee the disposal of your wand. Do I make myself clear?" His voice was light. She swallowed nervously as too in his threat.
"Professor I—" she swallowed again, trying to figure out the best way to articulate her feelings in the matter. "I never want to become like her. I just want to live my own life, without her influence." For the first time in the conversation she met his eyes, though she still hid behind her hair.
He stared into her eyes, and for a second she felt as if he could see into her very soul. In that moment he reminded her of Dumbledore, and the looks he would sometimes give her. After what seemed like an eternity he sat back in his chair, his eyebrows raised in nonchalance "please continue."
She spent the rest of her detentions in silence.
xxx
Staying out of detention was easier said than done, as a few members of her house, particularly the socially ambitious sort willing to gain favour with the more powerful pure blood families, antagonised her at every turn. Relatively harmless things mostly, the odd stomach bug potion in her food, stealing her clothes when she was in the shower, and stealing her homework from underneath her as she inevitably fell asleep a top of it in the common room. All of these things were mild annoyances, hidden behind a veil of anonymity. No one dared confront her to her face.
She took it all in stride, and served her detentions well. Professor McGonagall oversaw a few of them, after not buying her excuse that someone stole her homework. Occasionally someone would sabotage her potion in class forcing her stay behind and endure Snape's icy looks and silences. His warning echoed throughout her head during those times.
Through it all Constance Green was always there. The girl was persistent and lively, full of energy and chatter. Cassiopeia would spend whole breaks with the girl without needing to utter a single word, as Constance would dominate the whole conversation.
Not that she minded that, the girl's constant chatter, though mildly annoying, was also mildly amusing. She wondered if Constance's stream of consciousness talking was a reflection of what a normal person's mind was like. She talked about completely mundane topics, from clothing, hair, jewellery, pop music, and her pets back in the muggle world. Cassiopeia's mind by contrast was dominated by two goals. Sleeping through the night, or at least not waking anyone up in the middle of the night and fixing her Walkman so she could finally have her music back.
She managed to pocket a few vials of a sleeping draught while at potions class, though for a second she swore she was caught by Professor Snape, but it had only been a false alarm. It was ultimately an unsustainable solution, she could brew the potion easily enough, but having a place and a constant supply of ingredients was problematic. It was definitely against the rules to brew potions out of class. Her other solution didn't help her sleep necessarily but it did help keep her nightmares quiet.
She found a particularly useful charm in the fifth year charms book. She spent weeks trying to teach herself out of the book, deciphering the vague diagrams and instructions. It was a silencing charm. She spent most nights up late in the common room trying to cast it on herself. The problem was that she was successful most the time, but had no idea how long the spell would remain active. And without her voice there was no way for her to strengthen it, or release it, once it was cast.
So far she had always woken up with her voice, but the more accomplished she grew as she cast it, the more worried she was that the effects would last into the next day. It was a risk for sure, but it was one that she was willing to take. Finally she could sleep in peace knowing her nightmares, now occurring on a weekly to semi weekly basis instead of every night as she settled into her new surroundings, were her own quiet torment, and not the torment of the whole dorm.
She started work on her second problem, fixing her Walkman. Still wary of approaching Professor Flitwick, lest he expect even more attention to her in class, she decided to approach the muggle studies teacher, Professor Quirrell. Cassiopeia simply refused to believe that magic wasn't capable of mimicking an electrical current. After all it could mimic the electrical signals sent from the nervous system to the brain that communicated pain with the Cruciatus Curse; surely the concept would not be as complicated or difficult for a simple circuit board.
She had glimpsed the man that she thought was the professor at dinners, but it was Nymphadora who confirmed her suspicions, as she was taking the elective course herself. She decided to seek out the man after one of her classes, during an unusually long break and when Constance had a standing appointment with a few of her other friends in the Gobstones club.
Unfortunately her first impression of the man was not a very good one, as her knock on the door startled the poor man so much that he fell out of his chair into a heap of robes.
"W-who's there?" the man picked himself quickly off the ground. He was a tall and skinny man, with an incredibly narrow face and bright blue eyes. His hair was a dusty brown, short and dishevelled.
"I'm sorry to startle you professor—"
"Startle? You didn't startle me." He spoke quietly as he brushed dust off his robes, "I was just looking for my er quill, that I dropped." He looked rather put out.
Cassiopeia fought the urge to raise her eyebrows; she didn't want to start off on a bad footing with the man.
"Right, of course sir. I er, well my name is Cassiopeia Tonks, and I wondered if I could ask you a few questions."
The Professor eyed her suspiciously, his gaze lingering on the crest emblazoned on her robes. "And just what would those questions be? You are a first year if I am not mistaken? With all due respect it is highly unusual for a first year to approach me, especially one from your particular house."
It was true that muggle studies wasn't a popular elective in the Slytherin house, but that was beside the point. "I actually had a few questions about muggle technology sir and wondered if you had some time to help me." She tried to keep her face hopeful and her posture non-threatening.
The man was slightly taken aback by her response, but the suspicion still laced his tone as he hesitantly waved for her to continue. "You know muggle studies isn't until your third year." He reminded her uselessly. Nevertheless he carefully sat down at his desk and gestured to a desk in the empty classroom.
"I was wondering if you could help me with a particular problem I've been having with my music player." She carefully removed her Walkman and set it on her desk.
"Ah." He relaxed into his chair slightly, "A muggle born I take it?" he asked curiously, eyeing her.
Her head jerked, a reflex, "Pure blood sir, but I spent a portion of my childhood in the muggle world." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. He was probably a clever man; he had to be one to work at Hogwarts. Her statement directly contradicted the story she was selling with her new identity. But it was too late, and he chose not to comment on it.
He sniffed, "You would know if you read Hogwarts, A History—"
"That muggle technology doesn't work in Hogwarts. Yes sir, I've both read that and have personally noticed." A trace of irritation worked its way into her tone at his mild condescension.
"If you've already discovered this, then why are you here then?" He sounded bored and eyed the book pile on his desk longingly.
"I don't understand what interacts with muggle technology for it to cease to work. We have the wizarding wireless; music players that are ostensibly the same, that work perfectly well. Magic can do great and terrible things, and I refuse to believe that the answer is as simple as it doesn't work." She took a deep breath, trying to tamp down her irritation, "Sir." She added hastily.
He sighed, and looked up at the ceiling as if in silent prayer for her immediate disappearance. "Every year I have a muggle born student ask me a variation of the question you are asking, and every year I ask them to theorise what magic would be required to sustain muggle devices, and why its never been discovered and circulated amongst the wizarding world." He was both exasperated and bored.
"Until you have a sufficient answer to those questions, I would ask you to leave." He was already pulling a few books closer to him as he silently dismissed her.
"It hasn't been circulated because most of the wizarding world doesn't care to find out." She understood this and stayed stubbornly in her chair, refusing to be dismissed.
The professor appraised her over his book briefly before returning to it.
"That is one answer certainly, and not far off the base. But what about my other question, how and why would one even begin to unpick the issue when we can just simply move onto listening to the wizarding wireless. There are a few stations that even cater to muggle music I hear."
"We would have to replace the battery power with magic power. There is obviously something about battery electricity that reacts poorly to magic. Either discover a way to fix this negative reaction or simulate the power of electricity. I would imagine simulation of charged particles would be easier and quicker. The rest is purely mechanical, independent of magic." She thought about her brief time in her schools A/V club, building radios. She had always been fascinated about the electricity in the muggle world. It was their answer to magic, a force of nature that in some ways worked better than magic. After all they had landline telephones and pagers, while the wizarding world still used owl to communicate. She personally thought it was a disgrace that pride and tradition held back the wizarding world so.
Professor Quirrell was paying attention now, his head cocked to the side as he considered her reasoning. "A few have tried to simulate electricity in the past, but none have published their results as far as I am aware." He was quiet; she could practically hear him turning over the problem in his head.
"I assume you'll be wanting help in this quest of yours to power your music. I warn you that it will not be an easy process, and may possibly take years and will require a higher understanding of magical theory and design. Something most seventh year students struggle with let alone a first year. And certainly nothing any muggle studies student of mine will ever be capable of." He sank further into his chair, wondering.
"I understand professor, its why I wondered if you could help me. I understand the circuitry within the player; I've even built a few similar when I lived in the muggle world. But the theory is so far beyond me," she blew out her cheeks, remembering the brief foray she had in the library with a few of the higher-level spell theory books. It was so confusing and intricate, written entirely in runes in some sections. She gave up very quickly.
"I promise I will do anything that it will take to convince you to help me." She was sincere, life without her music was difficult. It was one of the only things that she took solace in and that could quieten her mind. She missed it as one would miss a limb.
The professor was quiet, looking torn between the two options in front of him. He stared once again longingly at his book before sighing and closing it.
"Two hours a week during an evening session, pending approval with the headmaster obviously. I cant afford to give you any more time on this fools errand of yours. If I feel you are not adequately contributing, or at least making an effort to learn from these sessions I will cancel them. And if you miss one without good cause I will also stop. I make no promises on success, in fact we will probably fail." His voice was quiet, resigned to the new responsibility he was taking on.
Cassiopeia was equal parts overjoyed and dismayed. It was far more than she had even dared to hope for, but she was also cognisant of her detentions every evening. She voiced these concerns aloud and the professor paled and shrunk into his desk when he heard she was serving detentions with Professor Snape.
"You must discuss that with him. I am not available any other time than Thursday evenings. Six to eight pm. come back to me when you have an answer." She listened to his dismissal this time, glumly placing her Walkman back into her bag.
It was back to the drawing board for the short term, at least until she finished the remaining month of her two month punishment. She had detentions scheduled until the Christmas break, essentially ruining any chances she had at starting on this particular problem.
With a dull resignation she continued on with her life.
Listening to Constance talk, occasionally making eye contact with Charlie Weasley, who would always smile but continue conversations with his friends. Despite being in the same place she almost never saw Charlie, he was always busy or distracted whenever she tried to talk to him. She got signal that she wasn't as welcome as she thought she'd be when he was with his friends and had stopped trying.
Nymphadora was friendly and even spent some time with both her and Constance, the pair chatting away with Cassiopeia in companionable silence. It was nice, to feel included without having to be in the middle of the conversation. Both girls understood that she wasn't much of a talker, and filled the silence without cutting her out of the conversations. She appreciated it.
It was the week before Christmas holiday when an unlikely solution to her Walkman problem manifested in the form of Professor Flitwick. He asked her to stay after class one day, and with a small knot of dread in her stomach she slowly packed up her class supplies and waited for the room to empty out. A few Ravenclaw students shot her glares as they emptied out at a glacial pace, no doubt hoping to overhear what the professor wanted to say.
She worried someone had sabotaged her written assignment, or that he had overheard something about her that wasn't exactly pleasant. She respected Professor Flitwick greatly and did genuinely care about his opinion of her. For a horrifying moment she worried that Professor Snape had told him about her real heritage and that he asked her to stay behind to discuss it.
Her dread lessened when she caught the wide grin on the professor's face as he beamed up at her. He was practically bouncing with excitement. "Miss Tonks, I was talking to Professor Quirrell and he informed me of your interest in working with him on a side project in the evenings. Though I must admit I wish you had approached me with your project, but Professor Quirrell certainly knows more about the muggle world than I, and is indeed quite brilliant."
She smiled sadly at the small professor's exuberance, "Professor Quirrell was very accommodating, but unfortunately I am serving detention with Professor Snape for uhm, well for a little longer." She didn't really want to bring up her duelling with Professor Flitwick. Not while he was in such a good mood.
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I spoke to the headmaster about it, and he in turn spoke to Professor Snape. He has agreed to let you have Thursday nights off on the condition that you refrain from earning any more detentions and make up the time with an added two weeks in the new term. Excluding Thursdays of course.
You are also going to have to keep both Professor Snape and the headmaster apprised of your progress by writing monthly updates of your progress on the side project with Professor Quirrell. And if you wouldn't mind keeping me in mind as well, I would love to keep track of your progress." The man was literally bouncing with excitement.
"It is so refreshing to have such a bright and curious first year, I must say I am a little jealous of Professor Snape that you ended up in the Slytherin house! I am sure we can expect great things from you in the future!" He was grinning broadly, waiting to see her reaction to the good news.
She couldn't believe it; it was almost too good to be true. She almost hugged the little man, "Thank you Professor, and of course ill come to you for help. Any reading you can suggest would be brilliant. I have a lot of ground to cover."
"Just remember, the next time someone insults your friends, you can bring them straight to me instead of taking matters into your own hands. Duelling other students is a very serious infraction. If you make a pattern of it, I'm afraid it would reflect poorly on you later in life." With his final warning he happily furnished her with a substantial reading list and sent her on her way.
That night during her detention Snape was unusually quiet and dismissive, giving her a particularly horrible and smelly pile of cauldrons to scrub. But he didn't bring up the change in their arrangement, and she didn't dwell on it, her mind instead occupied with the titles of the list Professor Flitwick had given her.
She wasn't sure why Professor Snape had relented on his detentions, or why the headmaster had allowed such an unusual arrangement, but she decided that for once she wasn't going to over analyse everyone's motives. She would just accept it and be thankful.
Naturally she was up half the night wondering about everyone's individual motives.
A/N Sorry its been a while guys! I had caught up to where I had written to and didnt have to time to write more. Mostly because my outline for Cassiopeia's life was a bit empty in the earlier years. But I have been spending the time researching trauma, reading first hand accounts of people who have lived with abuse in their childhood, how they view the world and interact with it. Patterns of abuse and obsessive behaviours.
My outline for her first few years at Hogwarts is still a little thin, but once she gets into puberty and matures in her magical skills some more, the shit is really going to go down. I feel like I should warn you now, that life is not going to get easier to cassiopeia for a very long time, and her Hogwarts years will not be an entirely happy story. She may have a family that supports her, but she doesnt believe in that support. she is suspicious and is always waiting for people to show their true faces. She spends hours analysing peoples motives, and finds evidence for her beliefs.
Also, if youre confused about Quirrell, he was actually the muggle studies teacher until he took up the DADA post in Harry's first year (like 1991?) after he took a year sabbatical to go find himself. He acquired the turban and the stutter after he returned from his somewhat disastrous grand tour. Before them he was a brilliant, timid, and often bullied professor. But a born Ravenclaw with a thirst for knowledge I expect he couldnt resist cassiopeia's magical conundrum as a problem whose solution should be straightforward, but has always proved elusive. Also he must be curious about her own experience with the circuitry, something he doesnt understand well beyond the basics.
As always please review, it helps me justify that im not writing towards an empty void.
Thanks for reading,
Tibys