she isn't what she says

2. 10 years later

Valencia grew up like all children of Death eaters did; she was quiet and obedient and supported the Dark Lord. Her auntie and uncle showed more affection to her as she grew up and became useful.

By the age of 5, Narcissa took an interest in every aspect of her life. Valencia learnt to read using books about pureblood supremacy, she learnt arithmetic using examples with pureblood ideology, she learnt to play piano and sing like every pureblooded girl, she danced and was learning to be the perfect wife.

Valencia watched her family and the Dark Lord tortured men, women and children from doorways. She  would sometimes take her by the hand and show her how to cause the most pain; Lyra was used to being handed a knife and told where to cut. She was sure it wasn't right but it pleased her family.    

She read books about princes and princesses who loved each other madly but when she looked at her auntie and uncle she saw nothing. They barely spoke or smiled at each other, she had never even seen them kiss, hug or even hold hands.

Her 7th birthday was the happiest day she could remember. Her Aunt gave her a necklace of a snake entwined round a wand, her Uncle even smiled at her. Her auntie kissed and hugged her and gave her beautiful toys, her cousin played with her. The ballroom had been decorated with balloons and streamers and lots of pureblood children invited. Her mother had house elves bring out a cake with 7 silver candles floating above it. But in 3 years her life would fall apart.

                                                              .     .      .

Most ten year olds spend summer meeting up with friends and watching movies before getting ready to start Hogwarts. However, that is not the case for Valencia Elara Lestrange. She was caught on a disastrous scene. Five muggles had been savagely murdered and tortured. 

Valencia was put in magic- suppressing handcuffs and placed in a cell at the ministry. She was questioned under the Veritaserum potion,  and confessed to the murders. She was instantly listed as a top criminal and was sentenced to Azkaban for fifteen years.

She was sent to Azkaban on an old, tattered boat, without being able to say goodbye to her family, the Malfoy's as they had looked after since her birth because her mother and father were imprisoned in Azkaban.

She was thrown hastily into a cell. She scurried to the back of the cell, and leaned against it with a loud sigh. "Welcome to Azkaban," a muffled voice from the cell to the left of her whispered. "At least I get a welcoming party," she laughed slightly. "What are you in for?" "Supposedly killing twelve muggles, and one wizard and for being a supporter of You-Know-Who," he stated, and slunk over to the cell bars. "What sent you here?" He was about twenty-five, with long black hair and an unshaven face. His eyes were slightly sunken in from the lack of proper food. He looked almost like he had lost his soul with his eyes a dull black and it sent shivers down her spine. 

"For being a supporter of Voldemort," she stated, "and I killed five mudbloods." She sneered, making the other man laugh.

Time ticked away slowly, slow enough to wonder if time actually existed. She was alone in her misery, her dark thoughts crowding in her mind shouting to be heard. She didn't feel the slightest bit of regret, she hated muggle-borns she was raised to. Her lawyer was useless, she had not once stepped in once the prosecution drilled her and the court onlookers sneered and jeered at her when she was dragged out of the courtroom, her chains weighing heavily on her body.

Valencia rubbed at the permanent brand on her arm. The ink brand of Azkaban forever carved on her sickly pale skin. Her unique serial numbers ran the inside of her right arm with the Azkaban emblem,  the one thing that she had and but many of her inmates had carved on their arm was the rune that duelled her magic. She was told by her prison governor that her magic would eventually disappear over the years.