---
Chapter 3: Parseltongue
Hydra quietly untied the bundle.
The glitter of Galleons and jewellery nearly blinded her.
This was her carefully accumulated private stash—saved bit by bit over the course of eleven long years!
She reached inside her collar and pulled out a small sachet hanging against her chest, then opened it.
It was a tiny object enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm, with an internal capacity of roughly one cubic metre.
Not large—but more than sufficient.
Inside were several jars and bottles, containing Potions she had brewed over the years.
Ordinarily, Squibs could not brew Potions, as they lacked the necessary magical components. But Hydra did possess magic—it simply refused to stay where it was meant to.
There was also a birth certificate stored inside, proof she would one day use to reclaim the identity of Hydra Lestrange.
She placed the Galleons into the sachet one by one, her movements slow and careful, making sure not to produce even the slightest sound.
As for the jewellery and alchemical items, she dared not touch them.
She couldn't be certain which of them might contain a tracking enchantment.
By comparison, Galleons were far safer.
As goblin-minted currency, they were imbued with goblin magic, making them difficult to tamper with and far less likely to be enchanted as trackers.
"Uncle! She's over there! In the holly bushes!"
Stevenson Grey's shout made Hydra's heart leap into her throat.
Tsk—spotted!
She hastily grabbed a fistful of Galleons and stuffed them into the sachet, then scooped up the unconscious Momo and sprang into the tall grass in a blur.
"After her! Don't let her escape!"
Hydra raced through the desolate courtyard as flashes of red and green spell-light streaked past her from behind.
At that moment, she moved like a serpent—slippery, agile, impossibly fast.
Crack!
Crack!
The pursuing Greys Apparated freely without obstruction. Two of them suddenly appeared to Hydra's left and right, completing a three-sided encirclement and cutting off her escape!
"Miss Lestrange," Northon Grey snarled through clenched teeth, "are you ready to die now?"
Hydra straightened, her expression calm.
This was the worst possible position.
Northon stood to her front-left. Daniel was front-right. And without needing to turn around, she knew Stevenson was directly behind her.
Behind Daniel lay the entrance to the old Gaunt manor.
The situation was dire—but not entirely hopeless.
Hydra had three gambles.
First gamble:
In a sudden confrontation, the Greys would not use the Killing Curse.
All three of them knew Avada Kedavra, but Hydra had already seen that Northon's casting was imperfect—about half a second slower than his ordinary spells.
In a moment of urgency, they would instinctively use spells they were more familiar with.
Second gamble:
Her speed was sufficient to outrun the activation of magical traps.
The Gaunt manor was riddled with deadly enchantments, but every trap required a fraction of time to trigger. While ordinary witches and wizards stood no chance, Hydra—whose body rivalled a XXXX-rated magical creature—might be able to break through.
Third gamble:
Her throwing accuracy was good enough to intercept spells mid-flight.
To be fair, the third point was mostly there to make the list look impressive.
After all, it made her seem like a brilliant strategist, didn't it?
She pulled three Galleons from her chest and offered Northon a faint smile.
"Mr Butler," she said mildly, "I have a piece of advice."
Northon smiled back and gave a shallow bow.
"I'm listening."
With deliberate solemnity, she said slowly,
"Never underestimate anyone."
Before finishing the sentence, Hydra glanced at Daniel and even gave him a playful wink.
Daniel hesitated, momentarily distracted, wondering what this girl was planning.
The instant his attention wavered, Hydra exploded forward.
Her target—
The Gaunt manor.
Daniel panicked and cast a spell on instinct.
A Repelling Charm.
Not the Killing Curse.
The first gamble—she won.
Hydra clenched two Galleons between her teeth, cradled Momo with her left arm, and hurled a third Galleon with her right.
As long as it wasn't Avada Kedavra, her margin for error was far greater.
The Galleon flew at terrifying speed and collided head-on with Daniel's Repelling Charm.
The spell was neutralised.
Hydra didn't even need to slow down.
She sprinted straight toward the door.
The third gamble—she won that too.
In a flash, she was beside Daniel, only two steps from the entrance.
At the same time, Northon and Stevenson cast spells together.
Hydra couldn't see them clearly, but the light from their wands was not green.
She twisted back and threw her remaining two Galleons, aiming them precisely at the incoming spells.
This time, she didn't get away cleanly.
Northon's spell was deflected—Daniel happened to be in the way and took the Leg-Locker Curse (Locomotor Mortis) instead.
But Stevenson's spell crossed paths with the Galleon and struck Hydra directly.
The moment it hit, she recognised it.
A Binding Curse.
She hadn't wasted eleven years pretending to be a Squib.
Invisible chains materialised around her, tightening in an instant and binding her completely.
Yet her forward momentum remained.
Even bound, she smashed straight through the rotting wooden door panels and crashed into the manor.
It was over.
The second gamble failed.
Forget outrunning traps—Hydra lay three metres inside the doorway, unable to move at all.
Daniel, closest to the entrance, casually cast Finite Incantatem on himself and strode inside, laughing wildly.
"Miss Lestrange, the game of cat and mouse is over!
You're finished!"
Suddenly—
A beam of black light shot out from the umbrella stand behind the door and struck Daniel squarely.
He turned in confusion, staring at the umbrella stand.
His wand clattered to the floor.
A scream tore from his throat.
"No—!!!"
His body rapidly turned grey and desiccated, then crumbled like burnt ash, scattering in the air until only a skeleton remained, collapsing to the ground with a dull clatter.
Stevenson and Northon were frozen in shock.
Hydra, meanwhile, was euphoric.
Thank you, Dark Lord.
Your traps are most appreciated.
Taking advantage of their stunned hesitation, Hydra struggled violently.
She realised the Binding Curse wasn't unbreakable.
"Ha!"
Crack!
With brute strength alone, she snapped the invisible chains apart.
Was it because Stevenson was too weak?
Hydra scrambled upright, scooped up Momo—who had been flung aside—and bolted for the second floor.
Miraculously, she still hadn't triggered a single trap.
Stevenson didn't have time to process Daniel's death.
All he wanted was Hydra's head.
If she died, the Grey family would rise—and he would live the life of a noble young master.
Seeing Hydra reach the second floor unharmed, he charged into the manor without hesitation.
Northon's expression changed drastically.
This cursed manor was riddled with traps—how could he rush in so blindly?!
Sure enough, less than two seconds later, Stevenson staggered back out screaming.
His left hand had begun to blacken from the fingertips upward, the corruption spreading rapidly.
Northon made a snap decision.
"Diffindo!"
The Severing Charm sliced cleanly through Stevenson's arm.
It fell to the ground—and then, as though time itself accelerated, it blackened, rotted, and crumbled into soil within seconds.
Barely alive, Stevenson collapsed, gasping in terror.
"Are you mad?!" Northon roared. "This is the Gaunt family's old manor—that man's former residence! How could you just barge in?!"
Clutching the stump of his arm, Stevenson shouted back,
"But that little brat went in! Why is she fine?!"
Yes.
Why was Hydra fine?
A terrible possibility struck Northon.
It was no secret that Rodolphus Lestrange and his wife Bellatrix had never had a good relationship.
And there were long-standing rumours that Bellatrix had been close to that man…
If Hydra were his daughter—
Then everything made sense.
This was bad.
That man was only missing—not confirmed dead.
If he ever returned and discovered that the Grey family had tried to kill his daughter…
It would spell the annihilation of their entire bloodline.
Northon forced the thought aside.
No. Impossible.
How could a little Squib be his child?
I'm overthinking this.
Besides, he's been gone for years—he must be dead.
No matter what—
This girl must die.
Northon told Stevenson to remain at the entrance while he circled the manor, searching for a way to force Hydra out.
Burn it down?
"Incendio!"
Blazing red flames surged forward—
Only to shatter against an invisible barrier before reaching the house.
Northon immediately stopped attacking.
This manor was far too ominous.
—
On the second floor, Hydra stood by a window, looking down.
She had somehow avoided triggering any traps on the way up.
But Stevenson was blocking the entrance, and Northon was prowling outside.
Momo was gravely injured and still unconscious.
She was trapped.
"Little Master," a young, cold voice suddenly spoke, "do you require my assistance?"
It wasn't Momo.
Hydra turned and saw a small emerald-green snake coiled around a candlestick, its tongue flicking toward her.
A… talking snake?
As a well-mannered young lady, Hydra naturally replied politely:
"Hiss, hiss? Hiss hiss hiss?"
[Who are you? How can you speak?]
The moment the words left her mouth, Hydra clapped a hand over it.
Her pupils trembled violently.
…I can speak Parseltongue?
Everyone knew the Lestrange family did not produce Parselmouths.
Nor did the House of Black.
Yet every member of the family that had lived in this manor had spoken in hisses.
The old Gaunt manor—the last British residence of Salazar Slytherin's bloodline.
And the final wizard recognised as bearing that bloodline—
Was the master of this manor.
Tom Marvolo Riddle.
Lord Voldemort.
---