"Momo, aren't you coming down?"
After descending four or five steps, Hydrus Lestrange turned back and called to her.
Momo stood there nervously and shook her head. "This is Lady Hufflepuff's trial for the Little Master. Momo isn't allowed to go down."
Hydrus nodded slightly, turned around, drew her wand, lit its tip, and continued downward.
The passage stretched long and winding, seeming endless. Moss coated the floor, slick beneath her feet—one careless step and she would be on the ground.
"Why did ancient people insist on digging basements this deep?"
She muttered complaints as she walked for more than ten minutes, until she finally reached a stone chamber.
The chamber was as large as two Transfiguration classrooms put together. The moment Hydrus stepped inside, lights flared to life on their own.
Plain stone pillars supported the vast space. Plain—everything here was plain. No carvings, no ornamentation.
Only a single cauldron stood at the center.
It rested atop stacked firewood. As Hydrus approached, a line of golden text appeared before her eyes.
Successor, prepare a dish that satisfies me, and you may enter my vault and claim the knowledge of abundance.
The next instant, a projection of Hogwarts' kitchen storeroom filled the chamber.
So this is spatial displacement.
Hydrus didn't particularly care about the vault. If it became too troublesome, she would've walked away. But since she was already here, leaving without doing anything felt wrong.
She summoned eggs and tomatoes and, in short order, made a simple plate of scrambled eggs with tomatoes.
When the dish was finished, the golden text appeared again.
Excellent creativity. Perfect harmony. Hufflepuff's Vault of Knowledge opens to you.
…Alright. Ancient British cuisine really was terrible.
All the ingredients vanished. Where the cauldron had stood, a portal emerged.
A twisted oak frame, lush green leaves, and a curtain of magic that shimmered like glass.
Hydrus stepped through.
Beyond the door was no stone room—but a boundless space, vast as the cosmos itself. She floated in the void, drifting among the stars.
A streak of light shot straight toward her.
She tried to dodge, but there was nothing to push against. Before she could switch to a flight-adapted physique, the "meteor" slammed directly into her forehead.
In the next instant, it felt as though her head was going to burst.
Knowledge flooded in—so vast that even her magically reinforced body, steeped in power for sixteen years, couldn't endure it.
Within seconds, she lost consciousness.
When Hydrus finally opened her eyes, she found herself lying on a kitchen table. House-elves surrounded her, watching anxiously.
"Little Master, you're finally awake."
She sat up, rubbing her throbbing head. "How long was I out?"
"It's already eleven o'clock, Miss Lestrange."
"Do you need me to escort you back to your dormitory, Little Master?"
"No," Hydrus said, shaking her head. She still felt steady enough. "I have something to do. I won't be going back yet."
"Then I'll go prepare your bed first!"
Leaving the kitchen, Hydrus headed toward the Great Hall, sorting through the knowledge newly engraved in her mind.
Most of it consisted of plant magic, household magic, and—within that—culinary magic.
Household and cooking magic overlapped heavily with modern spells, though the sheer volume was staggering, including many domestic spells long since lost.
Plant magic, however, was true ancient magic. Without a second magical circuit, it was difficult to use effectively—and the power difference was enormous.
Plant magic meant controlling growth.
A seed could be forced to grow into a towering tree. Magical plants like Devil's Snare could be manipulated at will.
It was powerful—perfect for accelerating potion ingredients.
But she didn't need it.
I'm going to be a rich woman sleeping on piles of Galleons. Who needs farm work?
With that thought, she arrived at the library.
Why did she find it so easily this time?
Because Hufflepuff's legacy included a map of Hogwarts.
Even without control over the castle's ancient magic, that map alone was invaluable.
Suddenly, Filch emerged from the library, walking straight toward her.
Hydrus stepped back and yielded the doorway. Filch passed by without noticing—but Mrs. Norris did.
"Meow~"
Mrs. Norris circled the invisible Hydrus twice.
Filch frowned. "What's wrong, my sweet?"
My sweet?
Hydrus had no idea when the cat earned that nickname.
Mrs. Norris meowed again. Filch scooped her up. "You must be tired. It's alright—we'll do another round and then head back."
The cat's eyes tracked Hydrus as she entered the library. She meowed urgently.
Filch soothed her. "It's fine. Professor Quirrell is inside. He's a professor."
He shuffled away, muttering, "Though he does seem stranger than previous years… always acting odd."
Hydrus didn't hear any of that.
She wasn't interested.
Which was why she nearly collided head-on with Quirrell.
Quirinus Quirrell stepped out from behind a bookshelf—less than half a meter away.
Her control saved her. She twisted sideways, braced herself, and stopped—but still stirred a faint breeze.
"Why is there wind in the library?" Quirrell muttered. "How strange."
"Idiot!" a shrill voice hissed from the back of his head. "Someone's here!"
Hydrus froze. Just as she prepared to flee, the voice spoke again—softened.
"My little water serpent… is that you?"
Her steps halted.
Her heart thundered.
She hadn't even revealed herself—how did he know?
"No need to hide," Voldemort said calmly. "I know you're here. It's been nearly ten years since we last met."
Hydrus turned, dispelled her disguise and invisibility.
She knew very well—even in this state, she was no match for him.
"Yes. Ten years," Hydrus Lestrange said calmly, ignoring Quirrell's shock. "Dark Lord."
Voldemort wasn't surprised she recognized him. My little water serpent had always been a name only he used.
"No, child."
To Quirrell, Voldemort's voice had never sounded so gentle—though to others it still carried arrogance, madness, and cruelty.
"You don't need to call me Dark Lord. Didn't your mother tell you? You are my daughter."
Hydrus widened her eyes in perfect shock.
"What? You—you're…?"
"Yes," Voldemort said. "I am your father."
Quirrell's mind went blank.
Hydrus's thoughts raced. Running into Voldemort on the very first day of term—this was the worst possible outcome.
There was no immediate danger. Even if she were just an ordinary student, he'd simply erase her memory. He wouldn't expose himself so early.
But it was complicated.
Voldemort had always wanted her to oppose Dumbledore.
What if he ordered her to steal the Philosopher's Stone? Or hunt unicorn blood?
She had no solution.
So she stalled—with acting.
She staggered back, shaking her head, voice trembling.
"That's impossible. Impossible!"
"If you're my father, then who is Rodolphus Lestrange?!"
"No—I don't believe it!"
"It's true," Voldemort said. "Blood recognizes blood. That's how I knew you instantly."
"I know you've suffered. Even being driven from Lestrange Manor by those Gray traitors."
"But it doesn't matter. What they did to you—your father will reclaim."
In an instant, Hydrus understood several things.
First: Voldemort knew she'd been expelled by the Gray family.
Second: He didn't know she had lived under the alias Audrey Astrea in the Muggle world.
Naturally. Someone like him wouldn't care about a Muggle singer.
She decided instantly—playing the stubborn, wounded daughter was her best option.
"I don't need your help," Hydrus said coldly. "The Gray family is nothing. I'll deal with them myself."
"Spine," Voldemort praised. "Worthy of my daughter."
Her voice remained distant, trembling with restraint. "Do you have anything else to say? If not, I'm going back to rest."
She played her role well—resentful, wounded, defiant.
At least an eight out of ten.
Voldemort wasn't angered. On the contrary, her reaction felt natural.
"Go, then. If you encounter difficulties at school, seek out Quirrell. He'll help you."
"Understood."
She turned to leave, then paused.
One last line.
"What's wrong with your body?"
A touch of concern—just enough.
Voldemort laughed softly. "A minor accident. I'll recover soon. No need to worry about your father."
Hydrus nodded, vanished once more, and disappeared into the library.
"Master… she—"
"She is my daughter."
"You truly want me to help her? Wouldn't that risk exposure?"
Voldemort snorted.
Pain wracked Quirrell's body instantly. He clenched his teeth to keep from screaming.
"She is my key piece against Dumbledore," Voldemort said coldly. "I lost ten years with her. I must make up for it."
He continued, voice dark with resolve.
"Her power is worth playing the role of a good father."
"She must become the blade in my hand."