Chapter 210: House-Elf Cemetery
Phineas continued following Duoduo through the dimly lit tunnel. As they walked, the passage gradually widened. The candles lining the stone walls became denser, their soft glow illuminating a grim sight—scattered bones littered the floor. Judging by their size, a few might have belonged to magical beasts or household animals, but most were clearly the remains of goblins and elves.
"Duoduo, what are these?" Phineas finally asked, unable to suppress his curiosity.
The house-elf turned and bowed apologetically. "Forgive me, Master Black, if the sight has frightened you."
Phineas waved a hand. "Not frightened—just curious. Whose bones are these?"
Duoduo hesitated, then answered, "I do not know the exact details, Master Black. But according to our clan's legend, this place was once a stronghold used during the Goblin Rebellions."
Phineas frowned slightly. He didn't entirely buy the explanation, but in the absence of a better theory, he said nothing. When every other option is eliminated, even the most improbable answer might be the truth.
Setting aside his thoughts, Phineas followed Duoduo deeper underground for another ten minutes. Judging by the distance they'd covered, they were now somewhere beneath the Forbidden Forest.
Finally, they reached a cavernous underground chamber connected to the Hogwarts kitchens. In its center stood a massive iron cauldron. Flames flickered beneath it, heating a thick, green, foul-smelling liquid.
"That is where we process the bodies of deceased house-elves," Duoduo explained respectfully.
Phineas stopped in his tracks. He had assumed the elves buried their dead, not boiled them in vats. Was this some macabre joke?
But as he looked closer, he realized the cauldron was not just a pot—it was part of a larger mechanism. A channel ran beneath it, draining the liquid through a filtration system with tiny holes. This led to a large square pit at the far end, where tools for shaping candles were arranged.
The process became clear: the cauldron extracted the oil from the corpses, the track filtered it, and the pit below was where the wax was cooled and cast into candles.
Above the cauldron hung a suspended sieve-like platform where enchanted blades methodically stripped flesh from bone. Several house-elves stood by, operating the contraption. Upon seeing Phineas and Duoduo, they hurried forward.
"Honored young master," one greeted with a deep bow. "Duoduo, why have you brought Master Black here?"
"Master Black wished to visit the cemetery," Duoduo replied. "I am guiding him."
Relieved, the other elf nodded and returned to his task, snapping his fingers to send cleaned bones flying into the nearby pit.
Phineas noticed that the pit was already full of remains.
"Hogwarts house-elves are brought here when they pass," Duoduo said. "Their oil is refined into candles to light the castle."
Only now did Phineas understand: nearly every candle flame within Hogwarts, save for enchanted ones like Gubler's fairy fire, came from the remains of deceased house-elves.
Duoduo added, "Once the oil is processed, the bones are placed in that pit. Each pit holds the remains of elves who died within a 300-year span. When the time is up, the pit is sealed."
Phineas looked toward the pit. Beside it stood three stone tablets engraved with numbers. Now he understood—they marked time periods for each group of interred elves.
He didn't fully comprehend this unique funeral custom. But he began to suspect there was a deeper reason behind it—perhaps something Helga Hufflepuff had put in place. After all, even the candles would eventually burn out, and based on what he'd seen, they seemed to last around 300 years—the maximum lifespan of a house-elf.
It couldn't be a coincidence.
Then Phineas remembered the scattered goblin and elf bones from earlier. It made him wonder if the well-known story that Hufflepuff saved the house-elves was a distortion. Among some pure-blood families, there was another rumor—that Hufflepuff didn't save them, but created them. That would explain their unique magical bond and blood contract with wizarding families.
Phineas scanned the cavern and decided he needed to investigate alone. "Duoduo, I'll take a look around by myself," he said. "You don't need to follow."
Duoduo bowed and stepped back without protest.
Phineas made his way toward the stone tablets marking the burial sites. Compared to the empty stretches of rock around him, these seemed far more likely to hold answers.
Sure enough, the earliest of the three tablets had been erected just a few years after the founding of Hogwarts. This didn't line up with the tale of Hufflepuff rescuing house-elves—why would she build a burial site for elves who supposedly hadn't existed at the school yet?
More curious still, the inscription claimed that Helga Hufflepuff herself had commissioned the monument. The elves had recorded this in their own writings, commemorating it as a sacred event.
But the timing didn't make sense. Even if Hufflepuff had lived to a great age, the monument could only have been erected after 300 years had passed, once the pit was full.
So either the house-elves were lying—or Helga Hufflepuff had lived far longer than anyone thought. And that matched certain old rumors whispered in the wizarding world.