September 1st, 1986.
Lestrange Manor, nestled deep in the western Scottish Highlands, beneath the shadow of Ben Nevis.
"Miss Hydrus Lestrange."
Norcen Gray, dressed in the immaculate black of a traditional butler, bowed deeply before the eleven-year-old girl.
"You have come of age this year. However… your Hogwarts acceptance letter never arrived."
Hydrus merely shrugged. Ever since the day she decided to hide herself, she had known this moment would come.
"Mr. Gray," she asked lightly, a sweet smile on her lips, "is this where you confirm I'm a Squib and politely escort me out of the manor?"
She had raven-black hair, eyes like polished obsidian, sharp with life and intelligence. Her delicate face carried none of the fear one might expect. Instead, she looked calm—almost amused.
Norcen felt a flicker of hesitation.
If only she weren't a Squib.
If only she had lived up to the terrifying talent she displayed at birth…
"No, Miss," he said at last.
He drew his wand.
"Your parents are imprisoned in Azkaban and cannot speak for themselves. But I refuse to believe they would ever accept their daughter being powerless."
His wand traced an elegant arc through the air.
"So go and meet Merlin, Miss Hydrus."
"Avada Kedavra."
A bolt of green light tore through the room.
It missed.
Instead, it scorched the purple velvet sofa behind her, leaving blackened scars in the fabric.
Hydrus had already rolled aside, throwing herself into the open space beside the couch. She sprang to her feet instantly, stance low, body coiled and ready.
Her reflexes were absurd.
Her physical strength even more so.
Enough to dodge the Killing Curse.
Which begged an obvious question—how could a sheltered young lady possess such a body?
For eleven years, Hydrus had done one thing without pause: dispersing every drop of magic in her core into her limbs, bones, and flesh. Her magical channels were perpetually empty—bone-dry.
To the world, she looked exactly like a Squib.
But a body steeped in magic for over a decade?
It had been reforged.
Reinforced.
At this point, her physical strength rivaled that of high-tier magical creatures.
Norcen's eyes narrowed.
His wand flicked twice.
Red light.
Yellow light.
Spells screamed through the air toward the girl.
As the Lestrange family butler, Norcen Gray had unrestricted access to the family library. His magical skill was formidable—easily comparable to a front-line pureblood duelist.
And yet—
He missed again.
Hydrus stayed low, weaving between spells, always moving forward. Always closing the distance.
She knew one thing with absolute certainty.
If she got close—
It would end instantly.
In her previous life, she had been obsessed with mixed martial arts. Years of brutal training, sweat, and broken bones had been etched into muscle memory.
Those techniques, paired with this monstrous body?
A perfect match.
"Mr. Gray," Hydrus asked calmly as she dodged another curse, "is this your decision alone… or the will of the Gray family?"
Norcen laughed.
To him, an eleven-year-old Squib—no matter how agile—was already dead.
"Rodolphus and Rabastan will never leave Azkaban," he said bluntly. "And as the last Lestrange, you are powerless."
"The family fortune cannot be entrusted to someone like you. It's far better that the Gray family takes over—at least that way the Lestrange name won't be… wasted."
Hydrus clicked her tongue.
Honor?
Please.
This had nothing to do with bloodlines.
It was greed.
Whether she was truly a Squib didn't matter. Once the Grays made their move, an isolated child stood no chance of stopping the slow, methodical seizure of her inheritance.
Her "condition" simply made it easier.
Kill her.
Spread the word that Hydrus Lestrange was a Squib.
Case closed.
Crude? Obvious?
No.
"We merely expelled the Squib from Lestrange Manor," they would say.
"If she lived or died afterward… how could we know?"
No one would investigate.
Because the magical world never cared about Squibs.
CRASH!
A severing curse shattered an ornate vase into glittering shards.
"Hey! Careful!" Hydrus shouted as she ducked. "That was a Louis XIV Chinese antique! Worth over a thousand Galleons!"
Norcen laughed, wand still moving.
"You won't need to worry about that anymore, Miss. From today on—everything here belongs to the Gray family."
That did it.
If the Lestrange fortune vanished, then even if she revealed herself years later, what would be left?
This wasn't part of the plan.
She had pretended to be a Squib for one reason only—
To stay out of the war between Voldemort and Dumbledore.
Living was good, actually.
Eleven years ago, she had barely been born when her magic exploded, obliterating the nursery and nearly killing Bellatrix herself.
Voldemort had been ecstatic.
"So much power," he had laughed. "A gift from the heavens. Raise her well, Bella—she will be my greatest weapon."
Hydrus had promptly wet herself.
Literally.
Being assigned a destiny at birth to fight the two most terrifying wizards alive was not her idea of fun.
Charge into battle and die gloriously—or be branded a traitor and hunted down first.
No thanks.
So she had created a plan.
A simple one.
Survive until the final battle ends.
Reveal herself.
Inherit everything.
Live like royalty.
To do that, she had to disappear.
And so she became a Squib.
Risky? Insane?
Absolutely.
But it worked.
She fooled Hogwarts itself.
No letter.
She had celebrated for days.
And now—
The Grays were ruining everything.
Damn it.
She had outplayed fate.
But not human greed.
Another Killing Curse flashed past her—
And suddenly, Hydrus smiled.
She saw it.
An opening.
Her foot slammed into the floor.
Her body launched forward like a cannonball.
Norcen's eyes widened in panic. No time to cast. No time to dodge.
Her fist filled his vision.
Victory was hers.
Magic or not—
She would win.
Try stealing her inheritance?
Over her dead body.
Not even a single Knut—
"Impedimenta!"
Blue-green light exploded.
The air thickened.
Hydrus felt invisible chains slam into her body, her momentum dying instantly as if she'd plunged into deep mud.
She turned her head.
At the top of the stairs stood another wizard—wand raised.
Stevenson Gray.
Norcen's nephew.
So there had been backup.
Wasn't killing one powerless child enough?
Norcen staggered back, heart pounding. That had been far too close.
Then he smiled.
Cruel. Triumphant.
"Av—"
Goodbye, Miss Hydrus.
"—ada—"
Try again next life.
"—Ke—"
I'll even prepare a nice coffin.
"Crack."
The sharp sound of Apparition.
A small, yellow-green figure appeared beside Hydrus.
Norcen's face twisted in horror.
"Kedavra!"
"Crack."
Another Apparition.
The green curse smashed into a priceless vase instead.
Another thousand Galleons gone.
Hydrus Lestrange was gone.
Only Norcen and Stevenson remained, staring at the empty space where their prize had vanished.