September 1, 1986.
Lestrange Manor, Western Highlands of Scotland.
"Miss Hydrus Lestrange," Norsen Gray, dressed in formal butler's attire, bowed to the eleven-year-old girl. "You have reached the age of eleven, yet your Hogwarts acceptance letter has not arrived."
Hydrus shrugged. From the day she decided to hide her true nature, she knew this moment would come.
"Mr. Gray, since it is confirmed that I am a Squib, are you preparing to cast me out of the manor?"
The young girl had ink-black hair and large, intelligent eyes that sparkled like dark gemstones. A sweet smile played on her delicate face.
Her calm demeanor moved Norsen Gray for a moment. If only she weren't a Squib—if only she had realized the talent she showed at birth.
"No, Miss," Norsen pulled out his wand and pointed it at her. "Your parents are in Azkaban and cannot reach you, but I believe they would never allow their daughter to be a Squib."
He flicked his wand in an elegant arc. "Therefore, go meet Merlin, Miss Hydrus!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
A jet of green light shot out. It missed Hydrus, instead scorching the purple velvet of the sofa black.
Hydrus had already rolled away, leaping to the open space beside the furniture. She rose quickly, dropping into a defensive stance.
Her exceptional reflexes and physical strength had allowed her to dodge the Killing Curse. How could a secluded young lady possess such power?
For eleven years, Hydrus had constantly diverted the magic from her internal circuits into her limbs and bones. This left her magical reserves empty, making her appear to be a Squib.
However, because her body had been saturated and tempered by magic for years, her physical strength was now comparable to a dangerous magical beast.
Seeing her dodge the curse, Norsen narrowed his eyes. He flicked his wand again, sending a barrage of spells toward her.
As a butler with access to the Lestrange library, his combat skills were formidable. Yet, his spells continued to miss.
The girl stayed low, weaving through the attacks, looking for an opening to close the distance. She knew that with her strength, the fight would be over the moment she got close.
"Mr. Gray," Hydrus asked while dodging, "is this your personal move, or is the Gray family behind this?"
Believing the girl was doomed regardless of her talent, Norsen didn't bother lying.
"Rodolphus and Rabastan are never coming out of Azkaban. You are the sole Lestrange heir, yet you are a Squib."
He sneered. "Rather than leaving the Lestrange fortune to a Squib, the Gray family will take over. We won't let the prestige of a Pureblood estate be tarnished!"
Hydrus felt a surge of irritation. It wasn't about "prestige"—it was simple greed.
Killing her and claiming she was a "disgraceful Squib" who vanished was the perfect cover. No one would look for her.
A Blasting Curse shattered an exquisite vase near her.
"Hey! Be careful!" Hydrus complained. "That's a rare Chinese vase! It's worth over a thousand Galleons!"
"Don't worry about it, Miss," Norsen laughed, his spells unrelenting. "As of today, all of this belongs to the Gray family!"
Hydrus was fuming. If the Grays liquidated the estate, what would be left for her when she was ready to claim it years later?
This was not part of the plan.
She had faked being a Squib to avoid the war between Voldemort and Dumbledore. Eleven years ago, shortly after she was born, her accidental magic had leveled the nursery.
Voldemort had seen her as a prize—a weapon to use against Dumbledore.
Terrified of being used as a vanguard in a wizarding war, she had immediately formulated her plan: "Lay low until the final battle, then emerge wealthy at the peak of life."
She had successfully fooled the Hogwarts detection tools and had even celebrated not receiving a letter.
But she hadn't accounted for the treachery of those around her.
Spotting a lapse in Norsen's concentration, Hydrus lunged forward like a projectile.
Norsen panicked, unable to cast in time as her fist grew larger in his vision.
"Impedimenta!"
A flash of blue-green light warped the air. Hydrus felt as though she had slammed into a wall of thick mud.
She looked toward the stairs. There stood Stevenson Gray, Norsen's nephew, with his wand raised.
Norsen stepped back, recovering his breath, his face twisting into a triumphant grin.
"Farewell, Miss Hydrus. Better luck in your next life."
"Ava—"
CRACK!
The sound of Apparition echoed through the room. A small, greenish figure appeared beside Hydrus.
Norsen rushed to finish the incantation: "—Kedavra!"
CRACK!
The green light struck another vase. Hydrus was gone, leaving Norsen and Stevenson staring at the empty space where she had just been.