Chapter 211: Clues to Hufflepuff's Chamber of Secrets
The theory that Helga Hufflepuff might not be dead had been gaining traction.
Unlike Ravenclaw and Slytherin, whose fates were well-documented, Hufflepuff's disappearance mirrored Godric Gryffindor's in its mystery. Gryffindor vanished after Slytherin's departure from Hogwarts, and thanks to evidence unearthed by Phineas and Gryffindor's own notes, it was now widely believed that the giant squid in the Black Lake was Gryffindor himself.
But Hufflepuff's story was far more intriguing.
She remained active long after Rowena Ravenclaw's death. Her continued presence allowed her descendants to rise in the magical world, establishing powerful wizarding families. One of the Consul families within the Elder Council could trace their bloodline directly to her, and their longstanding in-law alliance with another prominent family had made them nearly untouchable.
Then, without warning, she vanished.
No reports of her death. No funeral. No grave. Nothing.
If she had died, someone surely would have known. Even Nicolas Flamel—who lived for over five centuries—was widely believed to be alive throughout most of that time. But with Hufflepuff, there was nothing. Complete silence.
This made it entirely plausible that the stone tablet Phineas had discovered had been erected by Hufflepuff herself. Far from disproving the theory, it lent it more credibility.
Contrary to the commonly told stories, Helga Hufflepuff's greatest legacy wasn't the founding of Hogwarts, her reputed kindness to house-elves, or even her culinary spells. Her true legacy was her revolutionary work in potions.
At the school's founding, she began compiling and refining all the known potions of her era. She improved their formulations and streamlined their preparation, laying the foundation for modern potion-making. In doing so, she helped transform herbalism from a niche practice—once reserved for squibs and eccentric wizards—into a fundamental part of magical education.
Some historians believed that she may even have created a version of the Elixir of Life—one that didn't require the use of the Philosopher's Stone.
The only other wizard in magical history rumored to have achieved immortality in such a way was Herpo the Foul—better known for inventing the Horcrux. Though he began as a powerful dark wizard, he spent the latter part of his life seeking eternal life.
And Phineas happened to know that Herpo was indeed still alive—sealed away in the depths of the Atlantic. Certain legendary wizards of the Elder Council traveled there in secret every year to ensure the seal remained unbroken.
Back in the present, Phineas could find no other clues near the stone tablet besides the likelihood that it truly had been placed by Hufflepuff herself.
That left only one other area to search.
Aside from the equipment used to refine candles and the three ancient burial pits, the rest of the cavern was completely empty. So vast was the space that Phineas began to wonder whether the entire Forbidden Forest above had been hollowed out.
Since he had found nothing among the graves, he had no choice but to approach the equipment he had, until now, avoided—the iron cauldron.
The stench of blood and decay was overwhelming. The air was thick with a deathly, cloying miasma.
But for the sake of his mission, Phineas forced himself to press on. He stood up, took a deep breath, and moved toward the massive cauldron.
The task itself didn't offer any great reward. He had long since mastered Apparition, thanks in part to a lifetime of teleporting with house-elves. The hardest part of that spell—the nausea from being squeezed through space—was something he was already used to.
No, the reason Phineas was taking this task so seriously was because he believed it was tied to the main quest. Exploring the secrets left behind by the four founders might have been considered a side mission, but it clearly intersected with the central storyline.
The only main task the system had ever given him was to explore the entirety of Hogwarts. To complete it, he would have to find and enter the remaining hidden chambers of Hufflepuff and Slytherin.
And since the system hadn't issued a new mission in a long time, he was growing restless. He didn't really trust the system to provide real help, but he did appreciate the structure it offered—some form of direction. If completing this task triggered the next mission, it would be worth it.
In short, no matter what happened, Phineas had to find Hufflepuff's hidden chamber. The inheritances he had received from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had already proven invaluable. Hufflepuff's would be no less important.
The candle-making pit was unremarkable—a large earthen mold in the shape of a basin. Centuries of dripping oil had left a thick, congealed layer of residue, masking the original design. It was extremely unlikely that Hufflepuff would have left any clues there.
After all, whether she was a benevolent savior of house-elves or the creator of the race itself, Phineas imagined her as an elegant lady. And no lady would choose to hide clues in a place like this.
That left only one possibility: the iron cauldron itself—the most revolting place in the entire cavern.
Just a few steps closer, and the stench became unbearable. Phineas cast a Bubble-Head Charm immediately, surrounding his head in a transparent sphere to block the smell.
It worked surprisingly well, despite originally being designed for underwater use. With the large bubble surrounding his head, he looked absurd—like one of the Celestial Dragons from a pirate-themed comic book.
But the ridiculousness of his appearance offered a bit of comic relief and gave him a much-needed psychological boost.
Ignoring the swirling, green, corpse-fed sludge inside the pot, Phineas focused on the iron cauldron itself.
Its massive surface was etched with intricate engravings—hundreds of them.
There were images of rare, long-extinct herbs. Magical creatures that hadn't been seen in over a millennium danced among them. Some held spears, others raised their arms, calling forth swirling currents of energy as they battled amidst the vegetation.
These weren't decorative flourishes. Phineas was certain—they were clues.