Chapter 209 — Kitchen Observations
Everyone in the wizarding world knows it was Helga Hufflepuff who welcomed house-elves into Hogwarts, establishing their role as loyal servants to wizarding families.
Since all the house-elves at Hogwarts reside and work in the castle, their presence is most closely associated with Hufflepuff. Some say this is why the Hufflepuff common room is located next to the kitchens. Others claim it's simply because Hufflepuff students enjoy food and find it convenient to live nearby. Either way, the proximity is no coincidence.
As soon as Phineas and the twins stepped into the kitchen, dozens of house-elves noticed them at once.
The elves immediately stopped their work and turned to stare. A beat of silence passed—then a high-pitched squeal rang out, and chaos erupted. The house-elves surged forward, crowding around the three boys, all chattering at once, eager and frantic.
In the midst of the flurry, a young house-elf Phineas recognized pushed through the crowd and addressed them respectfully.
"Dear Master Black, Master Weasley—do you require anything?"
Phineas gave a slight nod. They'd been to the kitchens before, and this was always how it went. The elves weren't frightened—they were excited. Serving was their deepest instinct, one they took immense pride in.
Before Phineas could respond, the familiar elf waved its hand, conjuring a polished table and three chairs in the corner of the kitchen. It then ushered the trio to their seats.
The other elves wasted no time. Without waiting for requests, they began piling the table high with platters of fried eggs, crispy bacon, fresh milk, juicy steaks, warm bread, fried chicken legs, fruits, and other delicacies.
Within moments, the boys were surrounded by food.
"Dear young masters, is there anything else you desire?" the elf asked again, as though the initial chaos had merely been a prelude.
This was routine by now. Every time they visited, the elves would scramble to serve them. Whether they wanted to dine or simply take food away, the elves responded instantly, delighted to be of use.
But today, Phineas had another purpose.
He pointed toward an old wooden door at the far end of the kitchen. "Duoduo, what's that room for?"
Duoduo—the house-elf most familiar to them—straightened and replied with reverence.
"That, Master Black, is our kitchen storage—and our cemetery."
Phineas blinked. House-elves couldn't lie. If Duoduo said it was a cemetery, then that's exactly what it was. He had hoped it might hide a secret chamber or Hufflepuff's treasure, but this was something else.
Still, the idea intrigued him.
"It's always been your cemetery?" he asked, a thought forming in his mind. If this had been a house-elf cemetery since Hufflepuff's time, then perhaps—just perhaps—she had hidden something there. She did trust the elves, after all.
Duoduo nodded with deep respect. "Yes, Master Black. Ever since Mistress Hufflepuff brought us to Hogwarts, that has been our resting place. We are honored to be buried there."
Phineas nodded thoughtfully. So, it really had existed since her time.
"I'd like to see it," he said. "Can you take me there?"
Duoduo bowed low. "Of course, Master. Please follow me."
The elf's demeanor became even more solemn. For house-elves, the idea of their master entering their burial place was considered the highest honor—something rooted in the very blood-bound contracts of their kind.
Even in death, a house-elf still belonged to their master's family. For a master to visit their resting place—even briefly—was a legacy few elves could ever hope for.
It was the same reason the house-elves of the Black family had once dreamed of having their heads preserved and mounted in the corridors of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place—so that the masters might pass them daily, even after death.
Phineas gestured to Fred and George to stay behind. Though puzzled, the twins nodded and remained at the table.
Following Duoduo, Phineas passed through the short wooden door at the back of the kitchen and entered a quiet storeroom.
Piles of cabbage, potatoes, and other vegetables filled one corner. In another, a charmed freezer hummed with meat and eggs. Cured bacon hung from the rafters overhead. It was clearly the kitchen's main storage room.
But their destination lay deeper still.
Duoduo led him to the back of the room, between stacks of vegetables and cuts of meat. The elf stopped beside a thick iron chain embedded in the floor and, with a flick of magic, pulled it upward.
A hidden trapdoor creaked open, revealing a staircase descending into darkness.
Phineas followed Duoduo down the stairs, entering a stone passageway lit by rows of candles lining the walls.
Each flame burned steady, unmoving, no matter how the air stirred. They gave off a faint, waxy scent, but didn't seem to diminish as time passed.
"These candles," Duoduo said softly, sensing Phineas's curiosity, "are made from oil refined from the bodies of house-elves. That's why they burn so long."
Phineas was stunned. He had always known that Helga Hufflepuff was the one who brought house-elves into Hogwarts, but he had assumed she did it out of kindness.
Yet, the elves didn't see it that way. They didn't believe they were saved—they believed they were given purpose. And they revered Hufflepuff for that.
Seeing the thousands of candles stretching down the passage, Phineas realized just how deeply their reverence ran.
Hufflepuff hadn't merely welcomed the house-elves—she had reshaped their very existence. Transformed them from distant cousins of goblins and woodland spirits into something new: servants not just in life, but even in death. Their remains became tools, their resting places revered.
And though much of that knowledge had been lost over time, these candles still burned—silent witnesses to a forgotten legacy.