Chapter 3: Parseltongue
Hydrus quietly loosened the bundle.
Gold Galleons and glittering jewels spilled into view, dazzling her eyes.
This was her savings—eleven years of careful hoarding.
She reached beneath her collar and pulled out a small sachet hanging from her neck, then opened it.
It was a trinket enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm. The interior space was roughly one cubic meter.
Not large—but enough.
Inside were rows of bottles and vials: potions she had brewed over the years.
Ordinarily, Squibs couldn't brew potions. The process required magical elements flowing through the body. Hydrus, however, did have magic—it simply refused to stay where it was supposed to.
The space also contained a birth certificate.
Proof of identity.
Proof that Hydrus Lestrange existed.
She slipped the Galleons into the sachet one by one, slow and careful, making sure not to make a sound.
She didn't dare touch the jewels or alchemical items.
She couldn't be sure which one was hiding a tracker.
Galleons, on the other hand, were safer.
Forged by goblins and saturated with goblin magic, they were notoriously difficult to modify. Far less likely to be tracking devices.
"Uncle! She's there—by the holly trees!"
Stevenson Gray's shout made Hydrus' heart lurch.
Damn it. Spotted.
She grabbed a fistful of Galleons and shoved them into the sachet, then scooped up the unconscious Momo and dove into the weeds.
"After her! Don't let her escape!"
Hydrus sprinted through the desolate courtyard, scarlet and emerald spellfire streaking past her from behind.
She moved like a snake—slick, elusive, impossibly fast.
"Crack!"
"Crack!"
The Grays Apparated freely during the chase.
Two figures appeared ahead of her, one to each side, forming a pincer.
Her path was sealed.
"Miss Hydrus," Norcen Gray snarled, "are you finally ready to die?"
Hydrus straightened.
This was the worst possible position.
Norcen stood to her front-left.
Daniel to her front-right.
And Stevenson—no need to look—was behind her.
Her eyes flicked past Daniel.
Behind him stood the front door of the Gaunt old house.
The situation was grim.
But not hopeless.
Hydrus was gambling on three things.
First gamble: In a sudden situation, they wouldn't use the Killing Curse.
All three could cast it—but Norcen's earlier performance showed his casting speed lagged about half a second behind standard spells. In chaos, they'd default to what they knew best.
Second gamble: She was fast enough.
The Gaunt house was riddled with magical traps, but even traps required activation time. Ordinary wizards couldn't dodge them.
She wasn't ordinary.
Her body rivaled high-tier magical beasts.
Third gamble: Her aim was good enough.
This one didn't really matter.
It just made her feel smarter.
She pulled three Galleons from her pocket and smiled faintly at Norcen.
"Mr. Butler," she said sweetly, "a word of advice."
Norcen returned the smile and even inclined his head. "I'm listening."
She spoke slowly, gravely. "Never underestimate anyone."
Before the words fully landed, Hydrus glanced at Daniel—and winked.
Daniel hesitated, confused.
That instant was enough.
Hydrus exploded forward.
Target: the Gaunt old house.
Daniel panicked and fired a spell.
A blasting curse.
Not a Killing Curse.
First gamble—won.
Hydrus clenched two Galleons between her teeth, hoisted Momo with her left arm, and hurled the third coin with her right.
If it wasn't a Killing Curse, the margin for error was much higher.
The Galleon struck the spell mid-air.
The curse dispersed.
She didn't slow down.
Third gamble—won.
She flashed past Daniel, now only two steps from the door.
Norcen and Stevenson attacked simultaneously. Hydrus couldn't see clearly, but the spelllight wasn't green.
She twisted and flung the last two Galleons—one at each incoming spell.
This time, luck failed her.
Norcen's spell was intercepted—Daniel was standing just close enough to take the hit, his leg locking stiff mid-step.
But Stevenson's spell slipped past the coin and struck Hydrus squarely.
The moment it hit, she knew what it was.
A Binding Curse.
She hadn't spent eleven years playing helpless for nothing.
Invisible chains snapped tight around her body.
But her forward momentum didn't stop.
Bound as she was, Hydrus smashed straight through the rotting door and tumbled into the old house.
The second gamble—lost.
She lay immobilized three meters inside the entrance, unable to move.
Daniel, closest to the door, hastily cast a counterspell on himself and burst into laughter as he strode inside.
"Miss Lestrange! The game is over!"
"You're finished!"
Suddenly—
A beam of black light shot from the umbrella stand behind the door.
It struck Daniel dead-on.
He turned stiffly, staring at the stand.
His wand clattered to the floor.
A scream tore from his throat.
"No—!"
His body rapidly turned ashen, crumbling like burnt paper in the wind, leaving only a skeleton that collapsed into a heap.
Stevenson and Norcen froze in shock.
Hydrus nearly laughed out loud.
Thank you, Dark Lord. Your traps are exquisite.
As the two Grays stood stunned, she strained against the bindings.
And realized—
They were weakening.
"Ha!"
Crack.
The invisible chains snapped apart under raw force.
Was Stevenson just that weak?
Hydrus rolled to her feet, grabbed Momo, and bolted upstairs.
Miraculously—
Not a single trap triggered.
Stevenson didn't stop to think about Daniel's death. All he wanted was Hydrus—dead.
Wealth. Status. A noble life.
Seeing her unharmed, he charged straight into the house.
Norcen's face went pale.
This place was cursed. You couldn't just rush in—
Too late.
Less than two seconds later, Stevenson screamed and staggered back out.
His left hand was blackening, the corruption crawling upward from his fingers.
Norcen acted instantly.
"Diffindo!"
The severing charm flashed.
Stevenson's entire arm fell away—and decayed into foul sludge within seconds.
Panting, pale, alive by a hair's breadth, Stevenson collapsed.
"You idiot!" Norcen snapped. "This is the Gaunt house—his former residence! You don't barge in!"
Stevenson clutched his bleeding stump and snarled back, "Then why was that little bitch fine?!"
Why indeed?
A dreadful thought struck Norcen.
Rodolphus and Bellatrix's marriage had never been a loving one.
And Bellatrix had been… close to him.
If Hydrus was—
If she was his daughter—
Everything made sense.
Cold fear gripped Norcen.
That man wasn't confirmed dead.
If he returned and learned the Gray family had tried to kill his child—
Annihilation wouldn't even begin to cover it.
No.
No, impossible.
A Squib couldn't be his.
He'd been gone for years—probably dead.
No matter what—
The girl had to die.
Norcen ordered Stevenson to stay by the door while he circled the house.
How to flush her out?
Burn it down?
"Incendio!"
Roaring flames surged forward—
And were crushed instantly by an unseen force.
Norcen stopped.
This house was too dangerous.
Hydrus stood by a second-floor window, looking down.
She'd been lucky so far—but now Stevenson blocked the entrance, Norcen prowled outside, and Momo was gravely injured.
She was trapped.
"Young Mistress," a cold, youthful voice whispered, "do you need assistance?"
Not Momo.
Hydrus turned.
A small emerald-green snake was coiled around a candlestick, tongue flicking as it watched her.
…A talking snake.
Being a polite young lady, Hydrus replied instinctively.
"Hiss-hiss? Hiss?"
Who are you? How can you speak?
The moment the words left her mouth, she clamped her hands over it.
Her pupils shook.
I'm a Parselmouth?
The Lestranges didn't produce Parselmouths.
Neither did the Blacks.
But this house?
Every last one of them spoke in hisses.
The Gaunt estate.
Home of the final Slytherin bloodline in Britain.
And the last known heir—
The master of this house—
Tom Marvolo Riddle.
Voldemort.