Chapter 26: Peering into the Future
"Should I call you Poppy Graham… or Hydra Lestrange?"
Dumbledore's words cut through the air with a rare edge of intensity.
Though he didn't need to exert his will or magic to suppress her, Hydra could feel the air itself grow heavy.
Is this what it feels like to face the very ceiling of wizarding power?
Hydra regained her true form: her skin gradually shifting to green, her pupils elongating into slits, dragon horns sprouting from her forehead.
"Though I cannot fathom how you did that, Miss Lestrange," Dumbledore said, admiration sparkling in his eyes, "this marvelous transformation… a fearsome dragon, the nightmare of Diagon Alley! Were you at Hogwarts, I'd have no choice but to give you extra points."
Hydra did not reply. She bolted for the door.
Fueled by her fire-dragon power, she moved at incredible speed. Her mind had only one command: run!
She hadn't forgotten that she was still a wanted criminal in the eyes of the Ministry of Magic.
Bursting onto the lawn, she pushed her body to its limits, leaving afterimages in her wake. Though she hadn't practiced magic for five years, constantly channeling magical energy into her body had strengthened her to an extraordinary degree.
If she were a magical creature, her sheer physical prowess alone would earn her a 5X rating from the Ministry.
Yet before Dumbledore, even a fully grown fire dragon was no more than a large, curious creature.
The lawn suddenly erupted with a massive stone barrier, encasing her on all sides.
Hydra kicked off the ground and soared into the sky—but Dumbledore had raised the ceiling faster than she could fly.
Thud.
She slammed into the invisible roof, pain radiating through her skull. Whatever spell he had used to create this ceiling, it was surprisingly solid.
She fell to the ground. The once pitch-black enclosure suddenly brightened as Dumbledore conjured a dozen ornate wall lamps, complete with antique detailing.
With a soft sizzle, Dumbledore appeared inside.
"You're not going anywhere, Miss Lestrange," he said, smiling. "Imagine—scaring off a new student during a house visit? My reputation would be ruined."
"Headmaster Dumbledore, what do you want from me? I'm being hunted because of the Grey family's schemes—I'm innocent!"
Dumbledore shrugged. "I'm only here to ensure a new student shows up at Hogwarts on time."
Her thoughts drifted darkly: Or to assign me to Azkaban during Sorting?
Her lineage couldn't withstand scrutiny. On paper, she was a Lestrange—but in reality… Voldemort had killed people before. Would he spare her? Not a chance.
Taking a deep breath, Hydra unleashed a blast of dragon fire. A scorching column of flame shot toward Dumbledore.
The White Wizard phased to the side, but Hydra's gaze remained locked on him—the fire didn't stop.
Dumbledore arched an eyebrow, curious. Why persist in an attack that wouldn't hit?
Then he realized.
Her fire burned a precise hole through his conjured stone wall—without a single stray spark escaping.
"Incomparable control!" he applauded. "You've burned the rock without letting the flame spill even slightly. Were you worried about the Muggle house?"
His casual composure only added to her frustration.
Still, escape was necessary.
With a sharp whoosh, she shot toward the newly burned hole. Dumbledore waved his wand, raising vines to ensnare her—but she dodged every single one. Her speed and agility were impressive.
In less than a second, she reached the hole. She lunged forward—half her body already beyond the confines of the magical "box."
Escape first, think later. She hadn't heard of Dumbledore having aerial combat skills.
But reality was cruel. The hole's edges contracted sharply, pinning her in place.
Awkward.
Dumbledore phased to her side. Hydra, trapped halfway through the wall, exhaled, "Fine. You win. Send me to the Ministry… or straight to Azkaban. Your choice."
Dumbledore simply smiled.
Her forehead began to bead with sweat. Her signature house-elf-like apparition tricks were useless here.
He laughed heartily. "Planning to lull me into complacency with conversation, then escape by apparition? Clever, but predictable. I suspected when you evaded the Ministry with that unusual form of apparition that you had learned the movement methods of household elves. Fire dragon or not, you can use other magical creatures' abilities. I prepared accordingly. Especially with one elf named Momo…"
The vision cut off there.
Hydra's escape attempt continued. She surged upward as soon as she left the villa.
This time, she had a plan.
A binding spell shot toward her mid-air. Her eyes narrowed. She dodged, only to feel weight at her ankles: shackles, the other end chained to two massive iron balls.
She groaned internally. The anklets she hadn't removed after the concert had been magically repurposed by Dumbledore into restraints. Ahead, the headmaster sat on his flying carpet, waving.
Hydra bent down, removing the shackles, shifted into dragon form, and launched herself again.
She noticed an air distortion ahead—a binding spell from Dumbledore in flight. She easily dodged. No shackles this time—surely she could escape. A flying carpet versus a fire dragon? The odds were in her favor.
Then came the gravitational pull.
"Ah~!" she screamed, crashing onto the ground, leaving cracks in the pavement.
She hesitated, removed the shackles again, and called out, "Headmaster Dumbledore… why don't you drink your tea?"
Ever obliging, Dumbledore raised a cup, sipped, and set it down. Hydra vanished.
"Ah… an invisibility creature," he mused. "Miss Lestrange truly knows many abilities."
Her movements tracked by his eyes alone—Hydra inwardly cursed. One could hide the Cloak of Invisibility, but not an invisibility creature.
She sighed. "Headmaster, you drink your tea first."
He did, smiling. When he set the cup down, she was gone.
Hydra had shrunk herself, hiding under the sofa, waiting for the perfect moment to slip out unseen. Even in miniature, she could only move slowly—ten seconds to cover a meter.
"Ah! I've found you!" Dumbledore's voice rang out.
She rolled her tiny eyes. This old man was insufferable.
"I really found you, little water snake!" he teased. Hydra's heart sank.
Dumbledore floated the sofa, speaking, "Child, better restore your size—or I'll need a magnifying glass to talk to you."
Hydra leaned back, eyes closed, pretending to ponder.
Yet even in this moment, she realized Dumbledore's understanding of her went unnervingly deep. Had he been watching her for five years?
Cold sweat dripped from her forehead, until even Dumbledore seemed concerned.
"Child, you're using the invisibility creature to peer into the future. Don't overdo it—it's harmful to your body."
Hydra opened her eyes, sober. Escape was impossible.
Yet from the glimpses she had seen, she learned:
Her house-elf Momo was currently at Hogwarts.
Dumbledore bore her little ill will; capturing her didn't require this theatrics.
Escaping Voldemort? Not possible—not yet.
Better to negotiate than waste effort.
Though she wondered: did Hogwarts even allow correspondence courses?