A steaming bowl of noodles finished, Wyzett couldn't resist lingering in the kitchen, wandering its length and breadth. After all, he thought, "since I'm already here…" As he paced, the mental fog over Hogwarts' secret kitchen faded, and he quietly gathered threads of ancient magic that lingered in the air.
"Kind sir!" The elderly house-elf reappeared, clutching a dragon-hide-bound notebook so large it nearly swallowed him from view.
"Would you please record that magic you just used in here?" the elf asked, eyes shining. "We'd love to preserve it."
"Oh?" Wyzett studied the notebook. "I only used a bit of household magic, mixed with some old experience, to make those noodles. Is that really worth recording?"
"Of course!" the old elf nodded eagerly. "Helga Hufflepuff was a truly great witch! She not only sheltered our ancestors, but left us remarkable magic—all of it is kept in here!"
He lifted the notebook reverently. "All you have to do is recall what you did, and the notebook will capture the memory!"
Understanding dawned on Wyzett at once—this was no ordinary notebook, but a magical artifact imbued with powerful mental magic.
Helga Hufflepuff hadn't just mastered household spells. Judging by this, she must have been a genius at crafting magical items—and perhaps even alchemy.
Hogwarts: A History mentioned that after Helga Hufflepuff passed away, she left her descendants a magical artifact: a golden cup with wondrous properties. But the book never specified what those magical properties were.
With curiosity piqued, Wyzett flipped open the notebook. Inside, recipe after recipe was inscribed—each entry crisp and concise, listing ingredients and a few simple tips. The only unusual thing was the silver glow shimmering between the lines.
He looked up at the old elf. "What should I call you?"
The elf bowed again, ears flopping. "Kind sir! You may call me Reek!"
"Reek, I'm Wyzett. Please, just use my name." He pointed to the glowing recipes. "You can master each dish by touching the silver light, right?"
"Yes! Kind—Wyzett!" Reek nodded vigorously. "But you need to touch it several times. Once isn't enough to learn it all."
Wyzett tapped one recipe, and a vision flickered before his eyes: a middle-aged woman bustling at a stove, fire and oil hissing as she prepared a perfect duck confit. The image faded, but some of the technique lingered in his mind.
With his command of household magic, he figured one more look would be enough to master the dish.
This notebook was even more magical than he'd guessed. It gave him a new appreciation for Helga Hufflepuff's talent in magical artifact creation.
Turning to a blank page, Wyzett pressed his finger to the parchment and replayed his noodle-making process in his mind.
Silver light shimmered across the page. The ingredients and steps for his noodles flowed onto the parchment in neat script, as if written by invisible hands.
But that wasn't all. Wyzett suddenly sensed a hidden memory, tucked away within the notebook's magic.
He paused, then drew his wand and cast, "Memoria Exhaurire!"
He raised his wand, but no silver thread emerged.
"Strange… I can't extract this memory?"
He frowned, pondering the reason. If Hufflepuff's notebook contained magic left by other wizards, and if he could sense a memory within, surely others could too. Yet, the memory had survived untouched all these centuries—meaning no one had ever found a way to retrieve it…
The answer was obvious.
Salazar Slytherin had once said that all four Hogwarts founders had served as Guardians. And the Guardians' true gift was—ancient magic.
He summoned ancient magic from his Obscurus core, channeling it down his arm into his wand.
"Memoria Exhaurire!" he intoned again, this time infusing the spell with ancient magic. Instantly, a silver-blue thread unfurled from the page.
"Kind—Wyzett, is something wrong with the notebook? Are you hurt?" Reek asked, worry creasing his brow, sweat beading on his forehead.
The silver-blue thread—an echo of ancient magic—was invisible to Reek.
"No, I'm fine." Wyzett shook his head gently. "I've already recorded the noodle recipe. Would you like to check?"
But Reek simply bowed again, overflowing with gratitude. "Wyzett, thank you for your generosity! You're always welcome in our kitchen!"
"Thank you!" Wyzett replied, nodding. The recipes in this notebook were magical knowledge in their own right—he certainly didn't want to miss out on them.
After all, as the saying goes, "all roads lead to Rome." Mastering more household magic could only help him in other fields of magic as well.
But the hour was late, and a new week was about to begin. Not wanting to fall behind in his studies, Wyzett and Luna prepared to leave the kitchen.
Before they left, the house-elves showered them with treats—armfuls of delicate cookies and snacks to take back to their dormitory.
Luna gazed at the tiny cookies and smiled dreamily. "They're so lovely—like sunlight filtering through the forest."
Wyzett nodded in agreement. "No wonder people like Hannah are so warm-hearted."
A new week dawned. In the greenhouse, Wyzett picked a leaf and trimmed it to the size of a mandrake leaf, trying to get used to life with a leaf tucked in his mouth.
It was far from easy—in fact, it proved surprisingly difficult.
Mealtimes demanded extra care; a moment's distraction and he'd chew up the leaf along with his food.
Accidents happened in class, too. Once, while answering a question, he almost spat the leaf out mid-sentence.
Even napping brought mishaps. Halfway through a nap, he woke, gasping—the leaf had slipped into his throat, making it hard to breathe.
Anthony noticed his strange behavior and asked, "Wyzett, what's going on? Why are you suddenly eating leaves?"
Before Wyzett could reply, Michael chimed in, "Maybe he wants to give the rest of us a chance to answer questions."
"But his Ravenclaw instincts are too strong, so this is the only way he can handicap himself," he added, deadpan.
Their roommates nodded in agreement. "Makes perfect sense!"
Michael grinned. "But in Potions, you don't need to hold back for us. None of us can answer as thoroughly as you—and Professor Snape still finds ways to dock our points."
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