Chapter 190: The Goblet? A Horcrux
A golden goblet with a wide and stable base that gradually narrows upward, supporting a cup body with smooth curves, the main body shaped like a goblet, adorned with a pair of handles. The ancient gold vessel shows a golden-bronze color with a slightly settled patina. The outer wall is engraved with a relief of a small badger, surrounded by faint floral and vine decorations, intricately carved.
A smooth-scaled young snake coiled on the table, propping up its head to stare at the badger relief, its pair of vertical pupils bright like obsidian, extremely focused. Behind it stood the young professor, also staring at the golden goblet in contemplation.
Several open history books were placed nearby, including 《Hogwarts: A History》, which had an introduction about Hufflepuff:
「Helga Hufflepuff was born in 10th-century Wales, with Northern European blood in her veins. Her name derives from ancient Norwegian, meaning holy blessing. Raised in vast valleys from a young age, she received early magical education from her mother, focusing on practical magic, especially spells related to daily life. The serene natural landscapes and happy childhood shaped her gentle yet strong unique character.」
「Around the late 10th century, Helga met the other three founders and together established Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.」
「Unlike the other founders who selected students based on courage, wisdom, or ambition, Hufflepuff was willing to accept any child with magical potential, especially those remaining students unsuitable for the other houses… Helga excelled in food-related spells, creating the classic recipes for Hogwarts feasts. She arranged for house-elves to work in the Hogwarts Kitchen, providing them a safe and peaceful environment.」
「Friendly, humble, and compassionate in character, she was a highly charismatic person who emphasized tolerance and patience, playing the role of mediator among the founders. Her friendship with Rowena Ravenclaw was particularly deep; the two were described as the closest of friends.」
Nearby was a portrait of Hufflepuff: the witch had a slightly plump face, brown hair, blue eyes, a faint smile on her face, bright eyes, a gentle and kind woman.
She was the only founder to spend the rest of her life at Hogwarts. Compared to the other three legendary wizards, Hufflepuff’s traits were not as distinct, nor was the house she founded particularly prominent, yet she carried equally profound mystery.
The golden goblet, as a Founder’s Relic, was kept by Hufflepuff descendants who valued only its collection value. Over long years, it was treated merely as an antique left by ancestors, with little exploration of the magic hidden within the goblet.
It eventually fell into Tom Riddle’s hands. Voldemort valued the golden goblet’s commemorative significance more, murdering to split his soul and turning it into a Horcrux, afterward entrusting it to Bellatrix, kept locked in a Gringotts vault.
Wizards like Melvin who investigated the goblet’s own magical power were a minority in the wizarding world.
Yurm stared at the golden goblet for a long time, seeing no clues, then turned its head and barked: “Woof?”
Melvin couldn’t help laughing. He didn’t speak Parseltongue, but the dog’s bark conveyed clear emotions, allowing him to somewhat grasp the meaning. He shook his head and said: “I don’t know what magic the golden goblet has either, but we can try…”
Godric Gryffindor excelled in duelling, Rowena Ravenclaw in vast knowledge, Slytherin in dark magic. Helga specialized in practical magic, especially in cooking; it was said she could enhance food’s flavor and nutrition through magic.
Melvin recalled the book’s content, rummaged in the cabinet for some nougat saved from last year, unwrapped the candy wrapper, and tossed the already damp and sticky milk candy into the golden goblet.
Yurm stretched its neck to watch.
The milk candy, made by pressing honey, cream, and nuts, hadn’t actually spoiled; it was just stored improperly for a long time, losing some flavor and milky aroma. Combined with the humid rainy season air, the surface became sticky, adhering to the golden goblet’s inner wall, slowly and sluggishly rolling down, the slightly melted syrup drawing thin threads.
After waiting a moment, the candy’s appearance and smell showed no change.
The golden goblet was dirtied by the sticky syrup; if placed in the outdoor courtyard, it would probably only attract greedy ants.
“Do you want to taste it?” Melvin patted Yurm’s head; the snake had come very close.
“Hiss…” The young snake said something incomprehensible.
He took out the nougat through the candy wrapper. Neither human nor snake had any intention of tasting it. Unfortunately, neither beetle nor rat was present, so he tossed it into the trash bin, wiped off the syrup with a piece of paper, declaring the first attempt a failure.
“Mythology also has many cups and vessels…”
Melvin sat behind the desk, trying to study the golden goblet from other directions, muttering softly as he organized his thoughts: “The Christian Holy Grail, which grants eternal life, heals diseases, brings endless wealth; and the Horn of Amalthea, containing endless food; Dagda’s cauldron, satisfying all desires…”
Unfortunately, Muggle mythology had no reference value.
His past-life memories also said nothing about what this goblet did.
“Can only figure out ways to research and try myself.”
Melvin rubbed his brow with a slight headache. After racking his brains, still no clues, he simply picked up the teapot and poured some water into the golden goblet. Yurm nearby gave a puzzled look, but he offered no explanation.
Cups are generally for holding liquids.
The water rippled slightly in the goblet, with flecks of oil floating on top—residual cream not fully wiped clean.
Still no change; the second exploration failed.
Over the next half hour, Melvin used every inspection spell he currently knew, even trying some offensive magic—smoke, fire, water submersion, freezing—but the golden goblet gave no feedback; all attempts ended in failure.
Melvin began to consider another possibility: that Voldemort had damaged the golden goblet when making the Horcrux, leaving it existing only as a Horcrux now.
The diary could communicate through writing, the diadem by wearing it on the head; how was the golden goblet supposed to trick… communicate with Voldemort?
Melvin fell into contemplation.
……
Lunchtime, Headmaster’s Office.
Portraits of past headmasters gathered together, all staring at the round table below in unison. Dumbledore sat at the head, one hand on a steak knife, the other on a fork, leisurely cutting his steak. The silverware desk, usually holding documents, was cleared, now laid with steaming dishes.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat nearby, each with heads down, movements stiff, not daring to chew too forcefully. Dining together in the Headmaster’s Office was just too bizarre.
Dobby beside them was even more fidgety, as if his buttocks were nailed to the chair, painfully enduring without daring to struggle, silent, only screaming inwardly.
Why did Miss Granger invite me to dine together!?
Oh god, is this a seat for a house-elf!?
Why did Dumbledore agree!?
Dobby struggled to compare whether the physical torment was more painful or this mental torment harder to bear; he just somewhat regretted escaping Malfoy Manor.
“If these dishes don’t suit your taste, Dobby, you can go to the school kitchen to eat.” Dumbledore noticed his restlessness and said mildly, “I agree to you working at the school, salary referencing Mr. Filch’s when he joined, one Galleon per week. What do you think?”
Joy bloomed on Dobby’s face like fireworks. He jumped off the stool impatiently, shrieking: “Dobby has no objections! Dobby is very satisfied! Thank you, Mr. Dumbledore!”
With that, he snapped his fingers and vanished instantly from the unbearable office.
“Hogwarts has no such precedent; house-elves working for salary!” said the portrait of Headmaster Black on the wall. “Dumbledore, you shouldn’t have agreed to him.”
The group grew agitated; the headmaster portraits whispered, clustering together in noisy clamor, opinions divided.
Most wizards didn’t approve of paying Dobby a salary; a few headmasters thought it reasonable, nearly all from Hogwarts House Hufflepuff.
“Hush, it’s lunchtime now; we can discuss later. Don’t disturb the children.” Dumbledore waved his hand. His magic carried headmaster authority, turning the portraits away, blocking the commotion in the frames.
“Magical portraits are like that; they retain partial memories from life, along with pre-death personalities, hard to accept new things.” Dumbledore looked at the little wizards, his deep blue eyes kind and approachable. “If Melvin were here, he’d probably lecture the portraits on some grand philosophy with Muggle knowledge, but I can’t, so I choose delay. The portraits’ temporary memories have a limit; in time, they’ll forget this.”
“Headmaster, you approve of Professor Levent’s approach?” Surprise flashed in Hermione’s eyes.
“Don’t you approve too?” Dumbledore countered.
“We… actually aren’t too sure.” Hermione said softly. “We originally planned to trick Mr. Malfoy to the school, then midway trick him into handing Dobby a sock or tie for freedom, but Professor Levent doesn’t seem to approve of that idea.”
“Oh?” Dumbledore looked at Harry. “What did Melvin say?”
Harry scratched his head, expression odd: “Professor Levent said he’s at least a school professor and can’t conspire with us to deceive other students’ parents; we should figure it out ourselves.”
“Though Professor Levent said that, he went to Mr. Malfoy himself for the transaction, rescuing Dobby from that slave manor.” Hermione spoke up for her tutoring professor. “We just can’t figure out why the professor didn’t directly free Dobby, but made him earn a redemption fee, saying it’s not something money can measure.”
“I think Melvin’s suggestion is very good.”
A faint smile appeared on Dumbledore’s face as he looked at the children, explaining mildly: “Freedom isn’t a commodity or currency; it can’t be bought with money. Freedom gained through fraud and charity is just self-deception. True freedom can only be earned by oneself.”
The three little wizards exchanged glances, all feeling the words had deep meaning. Harry and Hermione vaguely sensed something, their faces thoughtful.
Ron pursed his lips, stuffing a piece of headmaster-special roasted chicken leg into his mouth. He knew there was reason in it, but reason was reason; real life sometimes didn’t follow reason.
To him, bestowed freedom, fraudulent freedom, self-earned freedom—all were inferior to freedom in hand.
Real or fake, just take the clothes, right?
Why set all these rules and make it so troublesome?
“But Dobby said Professor Levent let him judge himself when he can redeem his freedom…” Hermione asked puzzledly. “No detailed criteria, no specific standards—how to know when it’s right?”
“Hmm… this might be a philosophy question.” Dumbledore narrowed his eyes, stroking his beard and nodding, showing a contemplative expression.
Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance, staying silent. The headmaster’s little gestures were too much, overly performative—judged as poor acting.
This guy definitely knows the answer but won’t tell them.
Hermione didn’t press further; anyway, Saturday evening tutoring—ask Professor Levent directly then.
The matter temporarily concluded. Regardless, Dobby had left Malfoy Manor, free from physical torment. Harry and Hermione relaxed, enjoying lunch peacefully, only the clink of knives and forks on platters.
Clearly the same dishes, but they tasted more delicious here than in the Great Hall—maybe headmaster-special, or psychological.
Harry found the dining table too quiet, swallowed a piece of potato, and asked softly: “Sir, can you tell me about my parents?”
“James and Lily…”
Dumbledore paused briefly. “Seeing you reminds me of James at school; he too had a group of good friends…”
……
Today was Saturday. After dinner, Harry and Hermione knocked on Professor Levent’s office door at the appointed time.
The room’s furnishings hadn’t changed much; the bookshelf had more books, the spine of 《Hogwarts: A History》 protruding slightly, as if recently read. Hermione glanced there a few times, suddenly noticing a golden goblet added to the shelf.
In the spot where the glass bottle used to be.
Badger motifs, pure gold handles, and the just-read history book… hard not to associate with Hufflepuff’s Goblet.
Melvin behind the desk looked up, gesturing them to sit, chuckling softly: “Dobby came to me before dinner, saying you helped negotiate his job. Actually, I wanted him to handle it himself.”
Hermione pondered if it was truly the legendary goblet; Harry mustered courage to ask: “Professor, I want to know when Dobby can truly earn his freedom?”
“When he feels it’s appropriate.” Melvin replied.
“…”
Harry frowned; what kind of answer was that?
“Alright, Dobby matter ends here. Let’s check your learning progress this time.” Melvin waved to rearrange furniture, clearing space in the office. “Standard wizard duelling rules: no limits on tactics or spells, until one yields or loses their wand.”
“Ready! Three… two… one!”
Their minds instantly focused.
Over the next 40 minutes, the two little wizards were forced to concentrate on duelling practice; Harry won all three bouts.
The gap between them had fully opened. Though Hermione knew more spells and could select appropriate ones for scenarios and timing, Harry’s application of spells in combat was nearly instinctive, with subtle tactical choices by intuition. Last term they were evenly matched; now it was one-sided.
The magic power growth was too obvious; Melvin couldn’t help eyeing Harry’s forehead, where the lightning-shaped scar hid Voldemort’s soul fragment.
