Chapter 189: Back To School
The goblin manager watched very intently, even somewhat entranced. Melvin saw greedy eyes bursting from its eyes, reflecting on the golden goblet, almost brighter than the radiant gold.
“Yes, Hufflepuff’s Goblet,” Melvin murmured softly. “A relic of a Hogwarts founder.”
The goblin manager’s eyes narrowed slightly, staring at the golden goblet obsessively: “What a precious treasure, Mr. Lestrange. I think such a treasure should be kept in a safe place, like Gringotts’ underground vault, which can block all malicious prying eyes.”
“If anyone has ill intentions toward the golden goblet, it would be you greedy goblins.”
Melvin’s face carried a strange smile as he teased and joked, reaching out toward the golden goblet. The levitation charm’s magic enveloped the golden goblet, carrying it floating down from the shelf and wobbling into his hand.
The surface of the golden goblet was polished very smoothly, but the carved patterns felt uneven to the touch. Melvin closed his eyes and could clearly sense the vast magic accumulated inside the golden goblet, though it was hard to discern its specific effects.
Compared to the indestructible sword and the wisdom-enhancing diadem, the golden goblet seemed to have no special features besides its expensive material.
Helga Hufflepuff originally made the golden goblet to help house-elves transport food. It is said to possess wonderful and special magic, but no books or legends specify what that magic is.
Hufflepuff’s descendants had always kept it as an antique in their collection. Later, Voldemort poisoned Hepzibah Smith, got hold of the golden goblet, valued its symbolic meaning more, did not explore the hidden magic much, and after turning it into a horcrux, handed it to Bellatrix for safekeeping.
Voldemort’s soul fragment was also hiding inside the golden goblet. That ominous dark magic was very secretive, requiring careful probing to catch a faint fluctuation.
He turned and walked outward: “This is the collection I’m taking. Let’s go.”
“Very well, Mr. Lestrange.” The goblin manager forced a smile, his gaze stuck on the golden goblet. “If you need to deposit the golden goblet at Gringotts in the future, we are at your service anytime!”
Melvin found it amusing. These goblins were greedily without limits, eager to collect all the world’s gemstones, gold, and treasures into Gringotts.
Years ago, Godric Gryffindor commissioned Goblin King Ragnok I to forge the sword. The goblins thought since they forged it, the sword belonged to them, so they publicly claimed Gryffindor had stolen the sword, sent servants multiple times to steal it back, and only stopped after being beaten several times.
At that moment, footsteps sounded ahead, gradually approaching, accompanied by heavy panting. In this tunnel deep underground, besides Melvin and the goblin manager, there were only two beasts guarding the vault.
Melvin frowned slightly, stopped, and looked up to meet the sphinx’s gaze.
Only upon approaching did he see it was a massive lion, limbs shackled with shackles, standing almost taller than Hagrid, with yellow fur, a thick long tail, and a single paw larger than the goblin’s entire body. But this terrifying giant lion had a woman’s head, sallow skin, regular features, especially a pair of slender almond eyes that were very beautiful.
It showed no aggressive intent, just stopped at the crossroads, blocking Melvin’s path, and emitted a low, hoarse voice:
“Wise wizard, you have gotten what you want, but if you wish to leave here, you must pass through me.”
Melvin raised an eyebrow, scrutinizing the sphinx’s eyes, trying to find some clue in its gaze, unsure if it had seen through his identity or was acting on its instinct to guess riddles.
It is said this magical creature possesses both human wisdom and animal instinct, even magic like legilimency that pierces the heart.
“Barbarian beast! Back off!”
The goblin manager hurriedly stepped forward, scolded the sphinx, then immediately apologized to Melvin: “Very sorry, esteemed Mr. Lestrange. This sphinx was recently transferred here to guard the vault and is not well-trained, prone to offending honored guests. I’ll drive it back right now…”
He lowered his head to rummage in the leather bag for clinking scraps of paper. The sphinx showed some fear on its face but stubbornly stayed in the middle of the path.
“Manager, wait a moment.” Melvin turned to the sphinx and said calmly, “Tell me your riddle.”
The goblin looked at him in surprise but stopped rummaging, waiting to hear the sphinx’s next riddle.
The sphinx looked into Melvin’s eyes, squatted down in place, and shook the shackles on its feet:
「 Invisible and intangible, perceived by heart and soul.
Cannot be blocked by iron railings, unbound by chains.
The rich lack it, the starving and freezing abound in it.
Some willingly give their life for it, others disdain it like worn shoes.」
The sphinx’s tone was very strange, a faint sadness hidden in its flat voice. Melvin listened expressionlessly, meeting those almond eyes, their pupils reflecting each other’s faces.
For a Muggle Studies professor, this allegorical riddle posed no difficulty; the answer came to mind by the second line.
That morning he had gone to several places, discussed the topic multiple times with house-elves, and now this riddle from a sphinx’s mouth—shackles and chains, willingly giving life—these strongly hinting words seemed like a cry for help.
“If I’m not mistaken, the answer is… freedom.” Melvin said softly, as if it were just a simple word puzzle.
His heart truly felt little fluctuation. He was a wizard, a wizard whose soul came from another world, unable to empathize with a magical creature’s perspective, let alone this lion-bodied, human-faced one—its face alone could trigger uncanny valley, its body pure beast, though its limbs were confined by heavy shackles, the underground dim, candlelight and torches reflecting in its beautiful almond pupils.
Melvin averted his gaze. He did not want to complicate a simple matter, like breaking the shackles and blasting open the vault to escape with it—too troublesome to even think about.
“Correct answer.”
The sphinx showed a friendly smile, seemingly happy that someone had solved the riddle, and slowly moved aside to let them pass, watching them go.
Before boarding the cart again, Melvin looked back. The sphinx had returned to the tunnel depths, lying in the dark shadows.
……
Back at Hogwarts, the young professor walked the grounds’ path, wearing a crisp trench coat. Fresh from outside, his hair was slightly tousled by the wind, a few strands hanging at his temples, leaving a trail of footprints one after another on the soft muddy path.
“Too amazing! Harry Potter is the best Seeker!”
Passing the Quidditch pitch, the morning match had ended. Dobby looked at the scoreboard above the pitch, shouting excitedly.
A breeze blew; the Scottish Highlands had no rain, but the temperature was slightly lower than in Cornwall and London. This noticeable weather change easily dazed one, with recent scenes flashing in mind: Lestrange’s dim old house, Gringotts’ underground vault, and that sphinx.
Melvin exhaled long, looked up at the pitch. The scoreboard was still up; Gryffindor had ended the match leading by 180 points.
Quidditch scores were easy to calculate. Ignoring the 150 points from the Golden Snitch, the remaining 30 meant Gryffindor led by 3 goals—not a big margin. The key to victory was still Harry beating Cedric in the Seekers’ duel.
“I didn’t expect you to care about Harry’s Quidditch match. You know, last match you were controlling the Quaffle trying to kill him.” Melvin glanced down at him.
“This… this…”
Dobby showed a shameful, uneasy expression, lowered his head, twisting the hem of his clothes with his fingers. “Dobby didn’t mean to harm Harry Potter. Dobby was protecting Harry Potter, keeping him away from the dangerous Hogwarts. Dobby could only think of this way.”
“First you caused trouble at the Dursleys’ home, making Harry violate the Secrecy Law and nearly get convicted. Second, you sealed the platform, making him violate the Secrecy Law again and get a serious warning. Third, you controlled the Quaffle, directly injuring him and hospitalizing him… Getting worse each time. By that logic, next you’d just kill Harry directly?”
Melvin nodded slightly. “Indeed a good method. As long as you strike first, no one else can hurt him, completely isolating all danger.”
“No! Dobby won’t!” Dobby shook his head in panic.
“Relax, just a joke.” Melvin stepped onto the marble steps. As he spoke, they entered the castle. “Mr. Malfoy transferred you to me, but I live at school usually, don’t need your care, and have no housework for you.”
Dobby grew tense again.
“Considering you need to earn your own redemption fee and living expenses, I’m planning to recommend you for work in the Hogwarts Kitchen.” Melvin ignored the house-elf’s wide eyes and continued, “I’ll write you a recommendation letter. Take it to Dumbledore yourself and discuss salary and benefits with him.”
A house-elf negotiating salary with the world’s greatest wizard!
What outrageous, blasphemous crime was this?
If other house-elves found out, it would probably be publicly tried while hung up, unanimously sentenced to death by a thousand cuts, its flayed flesh burned to ash in the fireplace—not even fit to feed dogs or owls.
Hearing this unprecedented proposal, Dobby’s heart pounded wildly like a drum, limbs trembling together, lips quivering without a sound.
Melvin glanced down at him: “It’s your own business as a house-elf. Should your employer run around for you? Writing the recommendation letter is already troublesome enough. Can’t expect me to do everything.”
Dobby felt so ashamed he wanted to crawl into a crack. Professor Levent was right; saving him from Malfoy Manor was already trouble—how could he keep bothering him to find work too?
The follow-up arrangements were thus settled. Back in the Muggle Studies office, Melvin spent less than five minutes writing a casually worded recommendation letter, more like a situational notice, showing no due respect to the headmaster.
Taking the recommendation letter, Dobby left the office in a daze, eyes blank, feeling the letter hotter than a red-hot iron, heavier than being hung from the ceiling by his thumb, suffocating him.
……
George and Fred came out of the common room arm-in-arm, colorful scraps of paper still in their hair from the celebratory cannons. Other players were with them; Gryffindor students crowded around the team, chattering toward the Great Hall for dinner.
Harry and Ron huddled together, still talking about the morning match.
“Cedric’s skills are very good. His top speed is a bit slower than mine, but his turns are steady—the steadiest Seeker I’ve seen.”
“So how did you catch the Golden Snitch first?”
“It was thanks to Angelina and the others creating an advantage, making Cedric anxious. When he’s anxious, he speeds up and overlooks details in the corners.”
“Haha…” Ron shook his head happily, prouder than if he’d played himself. “Winning gives house points. Now Percy won’t have to keep a straight face, acting cold for a week like old bat Snape.”
Thinking of Percy’s face, Harry grinned.
Beside them, Hermione couldn’t hold back, a smile tugging at her lips.
After laughing up several staircases to the third floor, Harry suddenly slowed, frowning slightly: “I don’t know why, but I feel like someone’s watching me.”
“Of course someone’s watching you: Parvati, Lavender, Ginny, and your fanatic fan Colin Creevey.” Ron said wryly.
Unable to reason with this guy, Harry ignored the teasing, scanning inconspicuous spots, then spotted a familiar figure behind the armor in the corner.
“Dobby!?”
He rushed forward, shoving aside the obstructive armor: “What are you doing here?”
Stared at by the three little wizards’ eyes, Dobby shuddered, instinctively wanting to cover his eyes and crash into the wall, mumbling that Dobby was a waste, an idiot…
“Calm down!”
Harry and Hermione each grabbed an arm. “Answer my question first. Why are you at school? Something happen again? Did Malfoy find out you tipped me off… Don’t cry! Tell us what happened!”
Dobby cried with tears and snot streaming, hiccuping as he berated himself.
From the mumbled sobs, Harry and the others pieced together the events:
Last week they asked Professor Levent to help rescue Dobby. Though the professor verbally refused, he immediately saved Dobby from Malfoy Manor, sparing him further torment from Malfoy.
But like Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor Levent was secretive in words and actions, making the house-elf rescue roundabout.
To Harry, Ron, and Hermione, Professor Levent simply didn’t want to enslave Dobby but insisted he redeem himself and recommended him for work in the Hogwarts Kitchen.
Though Dobby cried till he nearly passed out, he didn’t reveal Melvin’s morning actions—keeping secrets for the master is a house-elf’s duty. He said he didn’t dare approach Headmaster Dumbledore and could only hide here, unsure what to do.
“Why doesn’t the house-elf want…” Ron showed an envious expression.
“Come on! I’ll take you to the headmaster!” Hermione’s eyes sparkled.
