tw: murder, rape, violence, etc etc.
Diana Lestrange was born for chaos. She wasn’t cruel, per say, but she wasn’t nice either. Diana liked things, she liked to have and to own. Since she was born she had it all, anything she wanted or needed or cried for. She was the first born daughter of Thatcher and Annalice Lestrange, and their only child. Her life was filled with glamour, a baby sitter, a cook, an elf, and a governess all to herself at her beck and call. Her father was a weak man, younger brother to Caelum, he’d grown with an inferiority complex that not even his monopoly of wood for wand making was enough to fill it. He was there as a father for Diana, giving her anything she asked for, learning a toy would get him further with his daughter than a hug or a kind word, and all the same, it was easier for him. Her mother was a good woman, she liked fancy and expensive things, and she was a good mother. Diana, however, was the Queen of the house, what she said or wanted was done without question, and that is how her life was lead.
Hogwarts was too... common for Diana, where she was sorted into Slytherin, so after one year she left. Beouxbatons was much more well fit for her, and she excelled, being the bitch witch that lead all the other witches to do her bidding and all the men drooled wherever she walked. She was Queen and her Castle was all her own. She excelled in studies, either because she worked hard where she cared or because she got someone to care for her and get her the grades she needed to pass. Diana was known for her sharp stare, and even sharper tongue. She was known as a tease, getting men to do her dirty work with a bat of her eyelashes and a smirk with all intent for more but she never delivered. Most men, didn’t dare call her out on it, since she had the power to make anyone shake, that is, all men but one.
Henri Vanity. He was a year above Diana, blonde and brown eyed, with a smirk that could make any woman feel light headed. His tongue was dripping with gold, and his hands knew exactly where to touch to get the right sigh. He captured Diana’s attention in her sixth year, and the two began dating on and off for a couple of months. Henri and Diana were explosive, yelling and fighting, making out and looking at no one else, and they were the most beloved couple in the school. They matched each other’s fire, that is, until Henri’s graduation came and everything crumbled to pieces on top of Diana. She had received a letter from him to meet him in her room - she would have warned her younger self not to go, had she been able. She doesn’t remember quite what happened, but once she went in things went black, and when she woke up, she was alone in her room with nothing but a sheet on herself. She was confused at first, but soon enough her phone was vibrating with notification and one quick swipe to unlock her phone was all that was needed for her to notice what had happened. It began with Henri talking about her, about her teasing, the way she ran the school, and how it all ended today as he showed her unconcious body and proceeded to rape her on film.
The following months were filled with lawsuits, and something that should have been a quick prosecution turned into a slut-shaming fest towards Diana. More and more people came to the stand to talk about her comments and teasing, women and men she thought of as friends shaming her. Henri walked free, and Diana? Diana became cold. She hardened to the point where she was unrecognizable, and although her father had pushed for Henri being sent to Azkaban, inside their home he blamed Diana for what had happened. Her mother didn’t even dare look at her, her own marriage with Thatcher was crumbling and before Diana entered her seventh year, her mother left.
Seventh year was the year Diana returned to Hogwarts, but she was no longer the confident and cocky Lestrange people knew. No, now she was cold and her eyes held a fierceness that warned people she was ready to destroy anyone who dared get into her way. Her seventh year was a lonely one, but she didn’t care, she had herself and she didn’t need anyone else. Once graduated work was almost impossible to come by, after all, she was nothing but a tease and despite her grades, no one believed her to be smart despite her perfect seventh year grades being her own. With nothing left, Diana began working for her father. The world didn’t want her? Fine. She’d show the world they needed her, she’d make it beg for forgiveness.
She became the best at the company, so much so that people asked her when it came to the company rather than her father. Everything was going perfectly, until she turned twenty three and her father remarried. She was fifteen younger than her father, Laura Vanity, the aunt in law of Henri Vanity. They had met in the trial, and hit it off since, but hadn’t gotten the chance to marry because Annalice had not divorced Thatcher until Diana was twenty two, and as soon as the papers were signed her father was marrying once more. Laura was to put it simply, a bitch. She discredited Diana any chance she got, and made sure people would hesitate to come to her despite her years at the company, and animosity turned to hatred when Laura announced she was pregnant the day that Diana turned twenty four.
Laura might have thought she was lighting a match under Diana’s pire, but oh no, she was sorely mistaken, for as a birthday gift to herself Diana set fire to the very house that Laura and Thatcher were living in and their death was proclaimed to be an accident. Diana played the part of the sad daughter, crying and wearing nothing but black for months, but the company, the estate, the money, and everything under Thatcher’s name was now hers. Just as it was meant to be.
