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Chapter 7: Audrey Astray
Rick Astley was a young man with a burning dream of music.
He came from a tiny town called Warrington. Just last year, music producer Pete Waterman had discovered him and brought him to London.
Today, Rick had been working on a song when a sudden bout of sobbing shattered his concentration.
Irritated, he stormed downstairs, intending to chase away whoever was making such a racket outside his door. But the closer he got, the more that heartrending cry began to change in his ears—transforming into an endless wellspring of inspiration.
It was an ethereal, exquisitely beautiful voice, soaked in grief and despair, yet somehow perfectly fused with its own fragile beauty—like the lament of a tragic family chronicle set to music.
He opened the door.
A small figure sat curled on his front steps. Thin shoulders trembled violently, her entire body looking heartbreakingly fragile under the streetlamp.
"Whose little girl are you," Rick asked softly, "and why are you crying so hard?"
The girl seemed embarrassed. Her sobbing stopped, replaced by quiet, restrained sniffles.
After what felt like an eternity, she finally turned her head.
Rain blurred the dim streetlight, but when Rick saw her face clearly, his mind went completely blank.
He knew that face.
Of course he did.
Every single day, passing by the tram stop, he saw it printed huge on a poster.
Audrey Hepburn.
Her flawless beauty had captivated him for years. More than once, he had fantasised that if he'd been born a few decades earlier, perhaps he could have had a sweeping romance with Audrey herself.
But now—
Why did this little girl look exactly like her?
Had God heard his foolish wish and sent him a tiny angel?
"What's your name?" Rick asked, using the gentlest voice he could manage.
Hydra froze.
In her rush to switch into her Metamorphmagus physique, she had changed her face—but completely forgotten to invent a new name.
Using "Hydra" was obviously impossible.
Left with no other choice, she resorted to the unbeatable classic.
"I… I've forgotten."
"…Forgotten?"
"My name."
"…Where do you live?"
"Forgotten."
"Your parents?"
"Forgotten."
Rick fell silent.
After a long moment, he sighed softly.
"It's cold outside. Why don't you come in?"
Hydra nodded and followed him indoors.
It was a small, two-storey house.
Downstairs, a fireplace faced a square rug. A low table sat in the centre, surrounded by three worn leather sofas. Thick layers of dust concealed their original colour—clearly, no guests had visited in a very long time.
"Just a moment!" Rick said.
He dashed into the kitchen, returned with a damp cloth, and began frantically wiping down the sofa and table.
He was clearly no housekeeper. His clumsy efforts only made things worse, and Hydra winced on his behalf.
While Rick rushed back to rinse the cloth, Hydra switched to her House-elf physique.
Restoring her original face, she snapped her fingers.
House-elf domestic legacy magic activated.
In an instant, the table and sofa—now even messier from Rick's attempts—became spotlessly clean.
Five seconds later, she was Audrey again, standing quietly where she'd been.
"Ah—!"
Rick stared at the pristine furniture in shock.
It definitely hadn't looked like that just moments ago.
He glanced at the girl.
She was staring at the rug, carefully nudging a loose thread with her toe as if trying to smooth it flat—completely innocent.
So it wasn't her doing.
Then… another miracle?
Rick crossed himself reverently and returned to the kitchen.
Twenty minutes later.
Hydra sat perched on the edge of the sofa, leaning over the low table, quietly inhaling a bowl of oatmeal.
"You must have been starving," Rick said, a pang of sympathy rising in his chest. "You really… don't have anywhere to go?"
Hydra didn't look up. She only gave a small, muffled "Mm."
Rick hesitated.
"If you…"
He paused, took a breath, and made up his mind.
After all, this had to be God's guidance.
"If you've nowhere to go, you can stay here for now. Of course—of course I won't do anything strange, I swear!"
The man looked oddly nervous—she was the one in need, yet he spoke as though he were begging her to stay.
"Oh—right. My name's Rick. Rick Astley," he added quickly. "I'm a singer."
Hydra's eyes widened slightly.
She'd heard that name before.
Rick Astley—one of the biggest stars of the late '80s and early '90s. Even decades later, Never Gonna Give You Up would still be a certified classic.
So at this point in time… he was still living in a shabby little house like this?
By her estimate, in about two years, he'd explode into fame.
Hydra fell into thought.
Rick watched her nervously, terrified she might refuse.
He couldn't understand why he cared so much about a girl he'd just met.
Maybe it was her face, so much like Audrey's.
Maybe it was her voice.
Maybe it was the strange sense of closeness she gave him.
Or maybe it was her tragic air.
As a musician, he trusted his instincts.
Only someone pushed to the absolute edge could cry like that.
Hydra lifted her head. Her eyes—still Audrey's—were clear and bright, like a small animal's.
She nodded lightly.
"Then… I'll trouble you."
Relief flooded Rick's face.
"No trouble at all!"
"Oh—one more thing," he said. "You'll need a name. Otherwise I won't know what to call you."
Hydra considered it, then nodded.
"That makes sense. Big brother—why don't you pick one for me?"
She called him brother.
Rick's heart nearly burst.
"How about… Audrey?"
Hydra went silent.
Just because she looks like Audrey doesn't mean she has to be Audrey, right?
"…Fine," she said at last, indifferent. "Audrey it is. Audrey Astray."
From that day on, her name in the Muggle world became Audrey Astray.
When Rick heard her accept the name—and even take his surname—a strange sense of responsibility welled up inside him.
He would raise this little girl properly.
Neither of them realised that Hydra's body, steeped in magic for eleven years, constantly radiated the scent of magical elements.
Wizards, used to it, might ignore it—but to Muggles, that subtle presence felt like an inexplicable "natural" fragrance, quietly drawing them closer.
"Audrey," Rick said, waving her over, "come upstairs. Let's see your room."
Audrey nodded obediently and followed her "brother."
Upstairs were three rooms: the street-facing master bedroom, Rick's studio in the middle, and a guest room at the far end.
Rick opened the guest room door.
The sight inside looked straight out of a horror film.
Dust. Cobwebs. Neglect.
Audrey wasn't surprised—the state of the living room downstairs had already prepared her.
"Oh—sorry," Rick said, scratching his head sheepishly. "I didn't realise it was this bad. Why don't you watch some telly while I clean it up?"
Smiling, Audrey gently pushed him into the studio.
Musical instruments lay everywhere. A makeshift desk was buried beneath scattered sheets of music paper, an uncapped pen sprawled across them—he'd clearly been composing just moments ago.
"Big brother," Audrey said sweetly, "keep working. I'll clean my own room."
"But—"
She smiled again and closed the studio door behind her.
Rick stood there, muttering helplessly.
"It's your first day… how can I let you clean…"
The strangest thing wasn't the room.
It was how easily he'd accepted that he now had a sister.
Back in the guest room, Audrey smiled and switched to her House-elf physique.
With a wave of her hand, rubbish marched itself out. Cobwebs dissolved into nothing.
She flung open the window, letting cool, damp London air rush in, and planted her hands on her hips.
The room was plain—nothing like Lestrange Manor.
But it was free.
Free.
FREE.
She tapped herself lightly. The clammy chill vanished; her clothes dried instantly.
Rick's soft humming drifted through the wall. Audrey smiled.
Fate still favoured her.
One moment she was wanted by the Ministry of Magic. The next, she had a brand-new identity in the Muggle world.
And her adopter was a good man—if a bit slow.
She propped her chin up with a finger-gun.
Barely past seven. The whole night lay ahead.
No time to waste.
First—
Fetch Momo.
As for explaining Momo to Rick? Easy.
Have Momo cast a Confundus Charm.
Decision made.
Crack!
She reappeared on the second-floor stairwell of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.
Five seconds later, she pushed open the door—
Wearing Nymphadora Tonks's face.
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