Time passed. Crucie lived with the Malfoys for a few years, and soon there was no trace left of the careless little girl she had been. There was something inherently sad about the Malfoy Manor and its inhabitants since the fall of the Dark Lord. The Manor had always been a gloomy old house, but since the Death Eaters didn't fill it with their babbling, cursing and laughing anymore the depressed nature of the place had become much worse. Old magical properties soak up the memories and emotions of those who live there, and throughout the years the black bricks of the Manor had gotten saturated with a very thorough sort of despair. The Malfoy couple didn't notice it so badly anymore, as they had lived their all their life, but the dejected environment had a strong effect on Crucie. It made Lucius decide to contact Rabastan Lestrange despite the dangers of it. A little later Crucie was ordered once more to pack up her things, to move to Rabastan's large bachelor pad in London. Despite it being another big shock for the girl, the decision turned out to be the right one.

In-between learning how to cook with canned food and magical magnetron meals, and helping her uncle with shady deals on Knockturn Alley, Crucie regained her happiness. By the time she was eleven and thus ready to go to Hogwarts, she was a joyful girl with a lot of tousled black curls, the dark eyes of her mother and the sharp nose that was characteristic of the Lestrange family. Her love of torture hadn't subdued, and thanks to Rabastan's not too legal dealings she often had "volunteers" to play with. If anything had made her happy, that was it. She was so used to the life she led –cooking, torturing, and hanging around on Knockturn Alley- that she had completely forgotten about going to Hogwarts. The letter thus came as a complete surprise.

"Uncle! Uncle LOOK!"

She yelled, skipping to Rabastan's study, the letter flapping in her hand.

"It's my Hogwarts letter! I'm going to Hogwarts!"

Rabastan wasn't as excited as she was. He was of all the Death Eaters probably the most careless one, but that didn't stop him from worrying about his brother's daughter. He read the letter and his head started filling with possible problems, going from the child-of-two-death-eaters thing to whether Crucie would be bullied with her first name, how he would hide his own identity and whether she would be able to control her talent if provoked. When Crucie saw her uncle's expression, her mood dropped. Sounding depressed in an instant, she uttered.

"I can't go, can I?"

And Rabastan knew that actually she couldn't, she had been home-schooled up to now and anything else would be dangerous, for him and the other death eaters as well as for Crucie herself. Still he couldn't help but shake his head.

"Of course you can go. I will talk to Lucius and see what can be done."

It got rewarded with a sudden hug, and a broad smile on the girl's face.

"Thank you uncle! I love you!"

With that she danced away, probably looking for something to torture. As he watched her go, Rabastan shook his head. Crucio Lestrange was a strange girl, a strange and highly unusual combination of precocious seriousness, childish glee and ruthless lack of empathy. Not a day passed without him wondering about Crucie's nature, how she had managed to stay so happy and excited even with her very dark talent. The control she had over it was exceptional; he had known very few people who could cast a wandless crucio, and mostly only when in great peril or under strong provocation. Crucie's pain curse could be angry, truly vicious, jesting, excited, and even happy… as if her magic knew exactly which nerves to press to get the right emotional response to the pain caused. Maybe she was still so cheerful because they had never branded her talent as an evil thing, he mused. Bellatrix had loved her all the more for it, Alecto had admired it, and his brother had said it was what made her special… in general all the death eaters had given nothing but positive responses to it. All perhaps but Narcissa, she had never quite gotten over her fear. All the better that Crucie didn't live there anymore. Even on Knockturn Alley she had gotten quite a reputation, the regulars there knew to respect dark magic... Or feel the consequences. It filled Rabastan with sorrow to think of what she might go through at Hogwarts, that bastion of white magic and ethical concerns…

(Pagebreak)

Crucie was entranced with Diagon Alley. Knockturn Alley was narrow and shady and full of businesses selling cursed items and little cafes where dark wizards drunk possibly illegal brews while bartering over dragon's eggs or betting body parts on illegal creature fights. It was as familiar as Rabastan's pad to her and she loved it, the way it resonated with her being and reminded her of her parents. But Diagon Alley was different. It was long and light and people were walking while laughing, chatting without hoods covering their eyes and eating ice cream while staring at the displays in shop windows. Something about it was so inherently different from everything Crucie had ever known that she immediately fell in love with it.

"Oh uncle this is amazing! Can I have an ice cream? Please?"

The death eater sighed. He hadn't taken polyjuice –he hated the stuff- but a little adjustment to his haircolor, nose shape and clothing style did more than enough to disguise him. Crucie was still herself, splitting image of her mother at that age –with a different nose- wearing dark black robes but strangely enough also a big red velvet bow in her curls and red stockings. Traditionally she should wear all black, but Rabastan was particularly bad at resisting Crucie's pleading face, and so the accessories had happened.

"Sure we can have an ice cream. But first we must buy your wand."

Crucie laughed out loud and skipped alongside her uncle, who felt hugely uncomfortable in the openness of Diagon Alley. In Ollivander's shop they were met by the old man himself, who smiled mysteriously when he caught sight of the girl.

"Ah, another young one for Hogwarts, am I right?"

Crucie nodded excitedly.

"Let's get you measured up, shall we!"

The measuring tape flew around Crucie, starting to measure the oddest things from the distance between her eyes to the length of her middle finger and the diameter of her earlobe. It tickled and Crucie giggled undisturbed. This was Diagon Alley after all; it felt like a place where you could giggle loudly without catching glares.

The wand maker watched his clients attentively, and something in his gaze darkened when he apparently realized who they were. Rabastan prepared to curse him, but then Ollivander said.

"Well well… you look an awful lot like your mother, young lady."

Crucie's mouth fell open, and excitedly she asked.

"You knew my mother?"

"She bought her wand here as well, if I remember correctly. Walnut, 12 and 3/4th inches, extremely unyielding with a core of dragon heartstring… A wand for a brilliant and ruthless witch…"

It pleased Crucie to no end that Ollivander called her mother brilliant and ruthless. After all, those were great qualities uncle Lucius had often claimed she had inherited too. Therefor she didn't understand the look of slight pity in the wandmaker's eyes. Maybe it was because he knew Bellatrix was in prison now…

"Well, let's see if we can find a good wand for you…"

Ollivander went into the back of his shop and returned with a few wands.

"Try this one first."

Crucie took the wand, but it was as if she repulsed the wooden thing, it seemed to tremble in her hand trying to escape, producing some kind of smoke. She looked at Ollivander for help. The wandmaker took the wand from her, almost caressing the thing to seemingly calm it.

"No, that one isn't it. Not too surprising, but I had to try, you never know… 12 inches, willow and unicorn hair… No, then this one."

The next wand was beautiful, long and ornate and Crucie couldn't help but admire it. Unfortunately, this wand remained completely still in her hand, like a dead piece of wood.

"Oh, that one doesn't seem to agree with you at all… I think it's ignoring you." Ollivander chuckled. Crucie immediately didn't want the thing anymore. She didn't need a wand that insulted her with non-activity. Uncle Rabastan was getting annoyed, but she didn't let it get to her. Mr Ollivander looked sorrowful when he handed her the third wand. Almost immediately when she touched the dark wood, a tremble went to the wand and the waste bin –which Crucie had accidentally pointed the wand at- flew ablaze.

"Aquamenti! " The wandmaker's spell splashed water on the flaming bin. "Oh dear, that wand is very, very delighted with you, it seems… a bit too delighted even…"

Trembling herself, Crucie put the wand back on the desk.

"It's an angry wand."

That drew a smile from Mr Ollivander's lips.

"Oh yes, 13 inches, Yew and dragon heartstring… it is a very angry wand. It seems to like you though. It could be a good match for you, if you think you'll be able to tame it…"

Crucie shook her head.

"Do you have another one? I…" She slicked. "I think I need one that isn't as angry as I am sometimes."

Ollivander nodded, seemingly surprised.

"Oh yes. I think I know what you need."

The wand he handed her now felt perfect in Crucie's hand, and a beautiful spray of silver sparks was produced. Rabastan looked relieved that they would be able to leave soon.

"Hawthorn and dragon heartstring, 13 and a half inches. A wand for the paradoxical, very strong… known to accord very well with certain forbidden curses, yet also with healing magic…"

That made Crucie grin. It was the perfect wand for her; she was glad she had refused the Yew wand. It had been tempting, but not quite it. Uncle Rabastan paid, and when they finally left the shop Mr Ollivander said.

"Good luck in Hogwarts, Miss Lestrange…"

The rest of their trip wasn't as fun as Crucie had imagined, uncle Rabastan was skittish and paranoid and he kept adding extra features to his disguise until he looked so obviously disguised it made Crucie giggle.

"That moustache is so obvious, Uncle!"

"Hurry up. I don't like this place."

They went to buy quills, books, school necessities of all kinds, and finally Rabastan decided to make up for his mood by splurging on a pet for his niece. The animal shop was filled with sounds of all kinds, cawing, purring, hissing, and Crucie ran from cage to cage gawking at the animals. Unfortunately, it seemed she was all but good with them. The owls made mean sounds at her and refused to let her touch them, the snakes scurried away from her when she approached their cages, a raven tried to bite her hand and eventually Crucie was close to tears. She sobbed.

"Animals hate me."

"Nah, they don't. Maybe you're just not good with birds."

"And reptiles."

"That would surprise me. But maybe you need a different type of animal. Soft, cute, fluffy… a kitten, by example."

Rabastan led her to the mammal department, where they kept guinea pigs, kittens and cats, and all kinds of other fluffy creatures. The saleslady brought Crucie to the kitten cage and opened it, so she could put her hand in it. Kittens approached her, but it was as if they came too close they got a scare and scurried away like the snakes had done, heaping up in a corner of the cage. Only one kitten wasn't scared, and purred happily while rubbing it's little head against Crucie's hand. In her excitement Crucie accidentally cursed it… yet after a loud mew and a tremble the kitten just nestled itself against her hand again, purring even louder now. And so the decision was made, and Crucie went home with a cat bench, school robes, a bag full of books and a wand. She was absolutely satisfied. Back in the apartment, Rabastan dropped himself on the black leather couch.

"Never do that to me again! Next year you go shopping with the Malfoys, or someone else who isn't wanted for Merlin's sake!"

"Didn't you think it fun?"

"I didn't think it fun that the majority of people were giving me those unpleasantly suspicious looks."

"You were looking suspicious because of that moustache. It looked like a hairy caterpillar."

"Don't tease your old uncle, Crucie!"

"You're not old, you're younger than dad. And you're still young enough to have long hair and wear band shirts, so you can't possibly be old."

"Urgh."

Crucie laughed and went to cook something for the both of them. After that exhausting shopping trip they deserved it…

(Author's Notes)

Rabastan Lestrange with a fake mustache. *LOL* In case you haven't noticed, I particularly like the youngest Lestrange brother. He's like... refusing to grow up, kind of. I think Knockturn Alley is a big playground for Crucie, after all she doesn't have to fear being defenseless thanks to her talent... I hope the older version of Crucie is still nice, and the wand-buying part wasn't too tedious... (I actually did research for that part, imagine that!)

PLEASE REVIEW! I love reviews, this story lives on its reviews! It requires them to survive otherwise I lose my taste for writing it! I tend to return the favor in case of review, so... please? For cookies and returned favors?

PS: There were KITTENS!