Chapter 75: Mother and Uncle
Dixon led the way, with Hydra and Pucci following close behind.
As they stepped into the towering, triangular fortress of Azkaban, a damp, stale smell washed over them. The long corridor stretched ahead, lined on both sides with iron-barred cells.
Inside them—
gaunt witches and wizards, reduced to little more than shadows of themselves…
—and, here and there, skeletons the Ministry hadn't even bothered to clear away.
Azkaban was vast. There were always empty cells. And besides, prisoners subjected to Dementors day after day quickly lost the will to react. One or two skeletons nearby hardly mattered anymore.
There were no desperate cries. No pleas for justice.
Only silence.
A suffocating, deathly silence.
Now and then, a pale face would suddenly lurch out from the darkness behind the bars, whispering something unintelligible before vanishing again.
Pucci's voice trembled. "Mr. Dixon… how much farther?"
"Almost there," Dixon replied, quickening his pace. "Just ahead."
---
At last, they stopped.
"Bellatrix Lestrange! You have a visitor!"
Dixon stepped aside.
Hydra came into view.
"Hehehehehe…"
A shrill, broken laugh echoed from the darkness. It no longer sounded like the voice of a mother—only madness remained.
"A visitor? Everyone else avoids me like the plague… and now someone comes to visit?"
Two enormous eyes appeared in the shadows.
Her face was so thin that her eyes seemed unnaturally large.
"You…"
Bellatrix lunged forward, slamming against the bars.
"Little Water Snake… is it my Little Water Snake?"
Hydra studied her carefully.
Only those long, thick eyelashes—unchanged—confirmed it.
This was her mother in this world.
"It's me."
"Hahahaha—!"
Bellatrix burst into wild laughter. Joy, yes—but twisted, warped into something chilling.
"I knew it was you… I could smell you… my sweet child…"
Her fingers gripped the bars so tightly they turned pale.
She stared at Hydra's face with greedy intensity.
"So alike… so alike…"
She tried to reach out, but Dixon struck her hand away.
Bellatrix only grinned and leaned closer.
"You look just like your father."
Hydra stepped nearer and spoke softly—so only Bellatrix could hear.
"I know who my real father is."
Her expression didn't change.
"I saw him recently."
"Ah… ah…"
Bellatrix trembled, unable to form proper words. Not guilt. Not shock.
Only anticipation.
"How is he?" she demanded, voice rising sharply. "How is he?!"
Hydra frowned slightly and stepped back from the sour smell.
"He's not well. He needs money."
Bellatrix froze—
then erupted with excitement.
"Money! Yes—money! The Lestrange family has money!"
She waved frantically.
"Come here, child! I'll tell you where the key is hidden!"
---
Pucci stepped forward carefully.
"Ms. Lestrange, we recommend transferring control of the vault to your daughter. She is your only heir."
Bellatrix suddenly turned—
and hurled herself at him.
Bang!
Pucci stumbled back in terror.
"You're right, goblin!"
Bellatrix began muttering to herself.
"That wealth… it mustn't stay with the Lestranges… it only has value in his hands…"
She snapped her head up.
"Do it! Transfer it now! Quickly!"
---
The contract was brought out.
Her fingerprint pressed onto parchment.
Done.
---
"Come here," Bellatrix whispered.
Hydra leaned closer.
"The vault… everything is cursed with duplication charms and fire—just…"
Hydra reached through the bars and gently patted her back.
"Don't worry," she said quietly. "I'll handle it."
---
She turned and left.
Behind her, Bellatrix's laughter rang out.
"He's coming back… he's coming back!"
---
"Wait!"
Another voice called out—just as ragged.
Hydra stopped.
A man stepped forward from the neighbouring cell—thin, wild-haired, eyes burning.
"Are you Bella's daughter?"
Hydra said nothing. She simply watched him.
"I'm Sirius Black. Your uncle."
"I know you," Hydra replied calmly. "You blew up a street in the Muggle world."
Sirius shook his head violently—but didn't argue.
"Do you know Harry Potter?"
Hydra raised an eyebrow.
Of course she knew him.
Very well, in fact.
"No," she said lightly. "But he's famous—the Boy Who Lived."
Clang!
Sirius slammed against the bars.
"How is he?!"
Hydra glanced at him.
"Don't you read the Daily Prophet?" she said casually. "Even if 'Harry Potter is coming' got pushed off the front page by 'Audrey Astray is coming,' it's still there."
"I don't trust newspapers!"
"Well," she said, turning away, "he's doing fine. At Hogwarts. Under Dumbledore's protection."
No one could touch him.
---
Laughter followed her.
Bellatrix's shrill madness.
Sirius's rough, almost relieved laughter.
For a moment, that level of Azkaban felt… alive.
---
At the exit, Hydra paused.
She looked up at the fortress.
Ancient magic pulsed through its structure—dense, layered, powerful.
Like Hogwarts itself.
A relic of brilliance…
reduced to a prison.
What a waste.
---
Azkaban had once belonged to a dark wizard named Extis.
A place of torture. Experimentation. Death.
Some even believed the Dementors themselves were born here.
But Hydra had no interest in digging into that.
If she wanted ancient magic—
there were far better places.
And unlike here—
those places paid.
---
Gringotts – The Lestrange Vault
Hydra stood before the treasure.
Gold. Silver. Artefacts.
Hundreds of thousands of Galleons.
Worth millions.
And yet—
she felt nothing.
After dealing in trillions, this seemed… small.
---
Her gaze shifted.
To the dull, grey parchments stacked in the walls.
Land deeds.
Across Europe.
Forests. Mountains. Castles.
Now that—
was real wealth.
Hydra smiled faintly.
A landlady now.
---
As the vault door shut behind her, Pucci bowed.
"Miss Lestrange, about the loan?"
Hydra smiled.
"This is a very large deal. I'll need to think it over."
Pucci nodded quickly.
"Of course! But Gringotts' reputation is unmatched—proven over centuries!"
---
Hydra left.
Calm. Unhurried.
---
By tomorrow—
Gringotts would discover something unfortunate.
They would no longer be able to find her.
---
That night—
she vanished as quietly as she had come.
Not a trace left behind.
Not even a ripple.
---
Except—
both vaults were empty.