Chapter 8: Repay Kindness with Kindness, Repay Wrath with Uprightness
The corridor was empty.
Not a soul in sight.
That alone was abnormal.
By all logic, the Grey Family and the Aurors should have been swarming this place—setting traps, lying in wait, ready to spring the moment she appeared.
After all, she was guaranteed to come back for Momo—especially after openly displaying such terrifying Apparition skills.
Hydra advanced toward Momo's ward with caution, yet her posture remained relaxed, her expression calm and unruffled.
Who knew whether some sneaky Auror hadn't slapped a Disillusionment Charm on himself and was crouching in a corner, waiting to ambush her?
She walked naturally.
Opened the door naturally.
Stepped inside naturally.
The bed was empty.
Momo was gone.
Hydra sighed.
Take her if you must—but couldn't you at least leave me a clue?
How am I supposed to "invite the gentleman into the jar" if I don't even know where the jar is?
Looks like she and Momo would have to part ways for a while.
She'd grown rather attached to that little House-elf girl.
She turned to leave—
—and a wand pressed firmly against her forehead.
It was a beautifully maintained wand, polished smooth as glass, gleaming faintly under the lights.
"Who are you," a deep voice demanded, "and why are you in this room?"
As expected.
Aurors were all sly bastards—every last one of them paranoid and dirty-minded. Just as Hydra had predicted, they'd been lurking under Disillusionment Charms, waiting for her to step straight into their trap.
If she hadn't borrowed Tonks's face, she'd already be eating a Stunning Spell.
The Auror before her was dark-skinned, wearing a small African-style cap.
Kingsley Shacklebolt.
An old acquaintance—one who frequently accompanied Barty Crouch during his so-called "home visits."
Elite Auror.
Member of the Order of the Phoenix.
Future Minister for Magic.
"I'm Nymphadora Tonks," Hydra said calmly. "My father—Ted Tonks—is a patient here. I… I went into the wrong room."
Kingsley eyed her with suspicion.
"Then take me to your father's ward," he said coolly. "And I trust you won't get that one wrong?"
"That's hard to guarantee," Hydra shrugged. "Every room on this floor looks exactly the same. No numbers—just silhouettes of Magical Creatures. How's anyone supposed to tell them apart?"
She gestured at the brass plaque behind her.
"Four-legged creatures are everywhere. Who can tell which is which?"
Kingsley glanced at it.
A vague four-legged outline. Long tail. Rounded head.
…She had a point.
At that moment, the door opposite creaked open.
A pink-haired girl poked her head out.
"Er—did someone just call my name?"
Kingsley's half-lidded eyes flew open like struck bells.
He looked left.
He looked right.
Two identical girls.
Ted Tonks had married the youngest daughter of the Black Family. Because Ted was Muggle-born, the so-called Noble and Most Ancient House of Black had blasted Andromeda clean off the family tree.
As far as Kingsley knew—
They had only one daughter.
Not twins.
So… Polyjuice Potion?
Tonks herself was just as stunned.
That girl across the corridor—that was me.
Then who am I?
She sorted through the chaos in her mind at lightning speed.
Only thirteen, but already Auror material—she spotted the key detail instantly.
The girl wearing her face was dressed in the exact same clothes Hydra had been wearing earlier.
So Hydra was the fugitive the Aurors were hunting.
And her little cousin… was a Metamorphmagus too?
Hydra, meanwhile, stood frozen.
She'd just finished lying—
—and reality had slapped her across the face.
Four words echoed in her mind:
This is mortifying.
"Look, Mr Auror!" she said quickly. "Isn't this my father's room?"
She brushed past the still-reeling Kingsley and strode toward Ted Tonks's ward.
From Kingsley's perspective, the girl's pink hair darkened to black as she turned away.
From Tonks's perspective, the "Tonks" walking past her shifted back into Hydra's face.
"Don't move!" Kingsley roared.
That girl was Hydra Lestrange—no doubt about it.
Tonks wore a see-I-told-you-so expression.
Hydra stopped and raised her hands.
"All right, Mr Auror," she said lightly. "You've caught me."
Tonks wanted to intervene—but her thoughts were in chaos.
Her cousin was only eleven.
What crime could she possibly have committed?
Then Hydra turned her head and gave Tonks a playful wink.
Five-second cooldown complete—
Switch to House-elf Physique!
With a soft pop, Hydra vanished before their eyes.
---
A few minutes later.
Audrey was stir-frying tomato and egg in a pan.
Rick clearly didn't cook much. The kitchenware was practically unused, and the vegetables in the fridge looked at least ten days old—wilted and barely passable.
Ding!
The toast popped up.
Audrey poured the tomato-and-egg mixture straight over it.
Carrying the improvised midnight snack upstairs, she knocked on Rick's door.
"Big brother, it's almost ten. I made you something to eat."
Rick yanked the door open in surprise. He took the plate, the aroma hitting him instantly.
"Y-you cooked this?"
Audrey nodded.
"There wasn't much to work with. This was the best I could do."
One bite.
Then another.
The country boy—raised on traditional British fare—was utterly conquered.
"Wow—whoa! I mean… wow!"
"This is incredible!"
Audrey smiled sweetly.
"I'm glad you like it. Don't stay up too late—working yourself sick isn't worth it."
"Y-yeah… okay."
Rick stood there dumbfounded, watching her walk back to her room.
Wow.
I've really picked up an angel.
Of course, there'd be no early night for him.
Peter Waterman was coming the next morning to check on his songwriting progress.
Tonight, he had to finish the fourth draft.
First, though—
He polished off the plate.
So good.
---
Audrey locked her door and flopped onto the bed.
Perfect.
Rick wouldn't bother her tonight.
She'd only slipped a tiny amount of Draught of Living Death into the tomato and egg—nothing excessive.
A powerful sleeping potion.
Now, it was time to return to Lestrange Manor.
The night was pitch-black. Wind howled softly through the empty streets.
She was about to burglarise her own home.
That sentence never stopped sounding strange.
Hydra smirked.
The Grey Family had never expected her counterattack.
Crack!
She appeared inside her bedroom at Lestrange Manor.
Yet the cold austerity of the space made her pause.
…Had the Apparition failed?
Was she still at Rick's?
The room was familiar—
—but where was her bed?
Her dressing table?
Her wardrobe?
She rushed into the corridor and froze.
Gone.
The priceless paintings.
The magical curios.
Even the thick wool carpets.
Only bare, unvarnished floorboards remained.
No—aloe-wood floorboards.
Worth a fortune.
But she couldn't very well pry up her own floors and sell them.
The Grey Family hadn't expected her return—
because they hadn't cared.
The entire manor had been stripped clean.
"Grey…"
"GREY…"
"GREY!!!"
Hydra panted, fists clenched.
House Grey, you've crossed the line.
Hunt me. Kill me. I don't care.
If you'd left me even a single Galleon to waste, I'd have let you live until Lord Voldemort returned.
But you dared to take everything?
Fine.
Let's play.
The day after tomorrow, the Lestrange Family's monthly revenues from across the country would be transferred to Gringotts.
Those Galleons would never reach the Lestrange vault.
House Grey would intercept them.
And Hydra intended to intercept House Grey.
Gringotts' security was airtight.
Right now, she had no hope of breaking into a goblin vault.
That left only one option.
Hijack the convoy.
Four Thestral-drawn carriages, travelling from across Britain toward London.
As the Lestrange family's young miss, she knew every route.
Every schedule.
Only one problem.
She couldn't fly.
Not yet.
But she could copy the physiques of Magical Creatures.
As Draco Malfoy's cousin, she'd spent plenty of time at the Malfoy dragon preserve.
Heh.
Ever tried counting Galleons in a flying carriage—
only to suddenly taste dragonfire mid-song?
It'd be glorious.
House Grey.
Just wait.
---