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Chapter 4: Talent — Magic Constitution Mimicry
Hydra suppressed the tremor in her heart and forced herself to accept reality.
The reason Lord Voldemort valued her so highly was not solely because of her astonishing talent. Her bloodline was almost certainly another factor—though perhaps not a decisive one.
After all, he was not a man who understood what love was.
"Little snake," she asked softly, "what is your name? Why are you here?"
The small green snake hissed. Yet what reached Hydra's ears was clear and intelligible:
"I have no name. I only know that I am a Haggleton Dart Snake. Since birth, I have been stationed here by my master to guard this old manor."
The Haggleton Dart Snake was an exceedingly rare magical creature, scarcely recorded in books, as it had only ever been discovered in Great Hangleton.
Some scholars believed it had been deliberately bred by the Gaunt family. Its danger rating hovered between XXX and XXXX—an unusually wide range caused by extreme individual variation. Much like the Gaunt bloodline itself, some specimens were frighteningly intelligent, while others were profoundly dull.
In appearance, it was indistinguishable from an ordinary snake. However, it possessed the ability to spit venom. A single spray could travel over fifty metres and penetrate most magical shields.
If the venom touched bare skin and was not treated in time, death would follow within half an hour.
Hydra had read about Arrow Snakes in the family library and was well aware of their lethality.
Suppressing her excitement, she extended a finger near the candlestick and allowed the Arrow Snake to coil around it. The sensation was cool and smooth. Once the instinctive fear of snakes was overcome, it was surprisingly pleasant.
"Do you see that man wandering outside?" Hydra asked quietly. "He is my enemy. Are you certain you can kill him?"
The young Arrow Snake shook its head.
"I am still a juvenile. My venom may not be potent enough…"
Hydra sighed inwardly. She had hoped the little creature might provide her with an unexpected advantage, but it seemed she had been overly optimistic.
Then—suddenly—she felt something profound stir where her finger touched the snake.
A deep, mysterious sensation surged through her.
In an instant, understanding bloomed.
She comprehended the magical constitution of the Haggleton Dart Snake.
Hydra let out a short, incredulous laugh. So what if she understood it? Surely she could not possibly imitate a creature's venom-spitting ability?
But in the next moment, something began to grow in her throat.
It itched.
Violently, unbearably itchy.
Her chest tightened. She coughed instinctively, then spat onto the floor—an utterly unladylike act, but sometimes the body refused to obey propriety.
What landed on the floor was not phlegm.
It was dark green.
The instant it struck the wooden boards, smoke rose with a hiss. Within seconds, the wood corroded away, leaving behind a smoking hole.
"Little Master…" the Arrow Snake hissed in disbelief. "How can you spit the venom of an Arrow Snake?"
Hydra stood frozen.
Did she possess a talent capable of mimicking the unique magical constitutions of magical creatures?
Had the body she had unknowingly forged since infancy truly developed such a function?
If that were the case, then in the future—
Dragon fire.
Giant strength.
Demiguise invisibility.
Phoenix rebirth.
The flight of magical beasts.
The splitting ability of a Matagot.
The size-shifting of an Occamy.
Spatial travel like a mythical beast.
Thunderbird lightning—
And even—
…The dung-fertilising talent of a Mooncalf.
She paused.
No. That one could be crossed out.
Her excitement cooled abruptly as another thought struck her.
House-elves were also magical creatures.
Hydra gently gathered Momo into her arms. The unconscious elf twitched reflexively as her wounds were disturbed.
Under normal circumstances, house-elves avoided physical contact with their masters as a mark of respect.
Hydra had never touched Momo before.
The same mysterious sensation surged again.
Understanding flooded her mind.
She instantly grasped how a house-elf's magic functioned.
Unlike wizards, who channelled magic through internal circuits, house-elves borrowed ambient magic itself, bending it to their will.
Hydra closed her eyes.
With a single thought—
She vanished.
And reappeared at the door of the master bedroom.
Her breath caught.
It worked.
A deep sense of security settled over her.
With house-elf Apparition, she could leave this place at any time.
However, as she gained the house-elf's magical constitution, the Arrow Snake's abilities vanished.
At the same time, two other skills engraved into a house-elf's very soul surfaced effortlessly within her:
Impeccable housekeeping magic.
And an astonishing talent for brewing wine.
Hydra focused again, recalling the Arrow Snake's magical structure.
Four… five seconds passed.
She spat.
Venom splashed against the wall.
As expected, the house-elf constitution faded as the Arrow Snake's returned.
Therefore—
Only one magical constitution could be used at a time.
That made this talent poorly suited for rapid combat switching.
Still.
At her current stage, it was nothing short of miraculous.
She could simply adopt the house-elf constitution and flee.
Yet her carefully crafted plan—to lie low until the final battle, strike it rich overnight, and reach the pinnacle of life—had been shattered by the Grey family.
She could not swallow this humiliation.
She was alone and weak. Reclaiming the Lestrange estate in the near future was impossible.
Even if she could attempt it, it would require meticulous planning.
Otherwise, the tale of a Squib overthrowing a wizarding family would attract attention far too easily—especially Dumbledore's.
And that would be troublesome.
Still…
She could make the Greys pay a little interest.
For example—
Letting the two men downstairs die in an unfortunate accident.
Hydra peered out of the window.
Stevenson Grey was resting, positioned directly at the manor's main entrance, his eyes fixed on the exit like a venomous hawk.
Northon Grey was still pacing through the house, clearly searching for a weakness.
"Little Arrow Snake," Hydra murmured, pointing towards Northon. "Go down and hide near him. When you see my signal—spit."
The snake nodded and slipped away obediently.
Whether it succeeded or failed was not its concern.
And as for whether this girl was truly its master—
What a joke.
The Slytherin bloodline on her was so potent it nearly overflowed. Even its former master did not possess such intensity.
This was without question—
The Little Master.
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