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"I don't have trust issues. I just think most people are lying, manipulative, and mildly allergic to honesty."
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Cassiopeia Black was born in the eye of a storm-unwanted by the world, unclaimed by the man who should've been her anchor, and orphaned before she ever opened her eyes. Her mother died giving birth to her. Her father, Sirius Black, was dragged to Azkaban two days later, leaving behind nothing but a name, a legacy, and a daughter who looked too much like him for anyone's comfort.
She grew up in the echoing halls of 12 Grimmauld Place, raised not by love but by the shrieking portrait of Walburga Black, who treated her like a stain on the family tapestry. At eight, when Walburga finally died (and Cassiopeia didn't cry), she was passed like a cursed heirloom to the Malfoys-where she learned that silence was safer than honesty, and sarcasm was sharper than any wand.
Cassiopeia had Sirius's eyes, Sirius's smirk, and Sirius's fire-but none of his arrogance. Where he was reckless, she was calculating. Where he roared, she whispered daggers. Her confidence came in flashes, like lightning: brilliant, blinding, and gone before you could hold it. She didn't trust easily, didn't forgive quickly, and didn't believe in heroes. Especially not ones with her last name.