Hogwarts: Harry Returns from Azeroth

Chapter 257, Section 256: The Golden Cup and the Locket & A Letter from Beauxbatons
“Hepzba Smith?” Harry asked. “Is there anything special about him?”

“It’s her,” Burke corrected. “Even among all the pure-blood nobles, Hepzba’s bloodline is respectable enough. She has the blood of Hufflepuff, one of the four founders of Hogwarts, and is also a collector of rare magical items with a wide range of interests.”

“A collector of rare magical items?” Harry repeated, “A customer of your shop?”

"Yes," Burke understood Harry's meaning and smiled ingratiatingly. "Ancestors are ancestors, and descendants are descendants... Besides, in Hufflepuff's time, a lot of magic wasn't even dark magic yet."

"Let's continue talking about Voldemort."

“Well, sir, in short, the Mysterious Man was on very good terms with Hepzba before he disappeared… Oh, you don’t have to look at me like that. I must say the Mysterious Man was indeed very charming and knew very well how to win the hearts of those witches… regardless of their age.” Burke chuckled. To be honest, he had kept these secrets to himself for so many years and had never dared to mention them to anyone.

But it's different now.

To be honest, it's quite interesting to reveal the mysterious person's private secrets like this. At least when the mysterious person was still in power, he would never have dared to do this.

"And then Hepzba died?" Harry had already roughly realized something when he heard that the witch had Hufflepuff blood.

“Yes, less than a week after the mysterious man resigned, Hepzba suddenly died, supposedly murdered by her house-elves, but—” Burke grinned, “How could house-elves betray their masters? Those foolish little creatures would give their lives for their masters. I think you’ve probably guessed the truth.”

"The Imperius Curse?" Harry understood.

Burke was wrong about one thing in this matter: there are always some rare house-elves who will betray their masters and choose a master they identify with more, like his dutiful butler Alfred.

“I think it’s the Imperius Curse,” Burke nodded.

"So what's the reason?"

“Hepzba was a great collector,” Burke said seriously. “She only collected genuine antiques or the most precious things. After her funeral, I went to her house and found that Hepzba’s two most precious collections were missing—one was a Hufflepuff cup that had been passed down from her ancestors, and the other was a Slytherin treasure, a locket.”

"Ha, relics of the two founders of Hogwarts?" Harry suddenly felt like laughing, already thinking of the Ravenclaw tiara.

There is absolutely no doubt that Voldemort turned Hufflepuff's cup and Slytherin's locket into Horcruxes.

Harry's mood immediately improved upon suddenly obtaining clues about two Horcruxes; Burke had done a great service without his knowledge.

Thinking about it this way, of all the relics left by the founders of the four houses, only Gryffindor's sword was not corrupted by Voldemort, and after becoming the headmaster of Hogwarts, Harry had already obtained the right to keep that sword.

All that's left is to look for the gold cup and the locket.

“Yes, I believe it was the mysterious figure who used the Imperius Curse to control Hepzba’s house-elf, killing her and then stealing the relics of the two founders,” Burke said respectfully. “Will my information be of any use to you?”

“Helpful,” Harry nodded. “You’re a smart man, Burke. Dumbledore told me you never get involved with truly dangerous evil.”

“…Dumbledore, he’s right,” Burke forced a smile and said, “For someone like me who does this kind of work, there’s nothing more important than caution and safety.”

“Voldemort is not dead,” Harry interrupted Burke, “Since you consider yourself a master at identifying Dark Magic items, you must have heard of Horcruxes, right?”

“…Yes, sir,” Burke said dryly, but then suddenly realized something and his eyes widened. “Could it be—?!?”

“Just as you think, those two items in Hepzba’s collection have probably become Voldemort’s Horcruxes,” Harry smiled. “Thank you for the information. I hope your shop can continue to operate… Of course, if you gather any information about the Golden Cup and the Locket, please let me know. I’ll be at Hogwarts.”

"Don't worry, I'll pay you back later." Having already heard the sound of Apparition landing in the distance, Harry glanced at the scene in the shop and said, "You should know what to say, right?"

“Of course, sir,” Bock said, though he appeared to be smiling, but it looked more like he was crying. “Please rest assured, I won’t say anything out of line.”

"That's good." Harry nodded, and the next second he released the Anti-Apparition Charm and vanished from the store.

Immediately afterwards, three people Apparated into Burke's shop. They were all Aurors from the Ministry of Magic. The one in the lead immediately pointed his wand at Burke as soon as he landed.

"This is—Fiercefire?!" The leading Auror stared in shock, his eyes wide. "What's going on? Old Burke?"

"Nothing's wrong!" Looking at these Aurors who arrived late, Burke was a little annoyed. He said irritably, "It's just a dangerous item that went out of control."

"out of control?"

"Yes, out of control."

....................................

The wise Burke would never say anything that would be detrimental to unity. The fact that someone who had once been Voldemort's shopkeeper and had personally witnessed Voldemort's downfall was able to survive Voldemort's most arrogant period, and even during that dangerous time, did not close his shop, speaks volumes.

How Burke would deal with the Aurors that followed was no longer Harry's concern. He believed that after this ordeal, Burke had fully realized what he had done and the difference between Harry, Dumbledore, and Voldemort.

As a shop that buys and sells dangerous magical items, Harry believed Burke would have enough time and resources to gather information about Horcruxes... and also for his own life.

Now, Harry is going to start the divination.

He found Hepzba's grave—though it was really wrong to do it, Harry did a little digging on a deserted night in order to find Hufflepuff's cup and Slytherin's locket.

Hepzba's body, which had been buried for decades, had long since decomposed into just a few bones. After a few apologies, Harry picked up the shortest bone, which would be the medium he needed for his divination.

Regardless of how Voldemort took the cup and locket, Hepzba was ultimately the owner of these two items during her lifetime, and as her two most treasured possessions, the cup and locket must have been with her for many years. Simply using divination wouldn't be enough to find the cup and locket's exact location, but with this bone closely connected to Hepzba, Harry could use this occult connection to divine their current location.

Vanilla burned in the brazier, and Harry ground the bones into powder and sprinkled it in. This time, he used a different method of divination: fire divination.

“…The omnipresent flames…please tell me…”

“…Tell me…where exactly are Hufflepuff’s cup and Slytherin’s locket right now…”

"...Please tell me..."

Gazing at the flickering flames, Harry immediately spotted a small fireplace amidst the flashes of orange-red light, with tattered cloths and grime-covered utensils scattered everywhere, and dust covering the surrounding tables and sofas—where was he?
With no further information available, Harry could only barely make out from the distorted, illusory scene that he was in a rather old house, because even though everything in the scene was covered in dust, the decorative patterns on the table and everything else still conveyed a sense of their preciousness.

But before Harry could examine it further, the image flickering at the tip of the flame changed once more, this time revealing a cave filled with treasure.

Piles of Galleons, a dazzling array of jewels, and all sorts of other items of unknown purpose were stacked together, while a small, unremarkable two-handled gold cup sat unremarkable on a shelf.

Wow!
The flames suddenly went out, leaving only wisps of smoke rising from the ashes.

"...The secret vaults of pure-blood nobles? Or...Gringotts?"

Recalling everything he had just witnessed, Harry fell into deep thought.

He'd probably have to ask Dumbledore to look through his memories in the Pensieve, hoping the experienced old man could find some clues.

But before Harry could get Dumbledore back to Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall had already found him. Unlike her usual gentle demeanor, Professor McGonagall looked unusually... angry today.

Professor McGonagall, the "Principal Potter," said rather coldly, "May I ask where you were just now?"

"Uh, I just—"

"Do you still remember your declaration before taking office?"

Before Harry could finish speaking, Professor McGonagall placed a stack of documents on Harry's desk and then continued to ask questions.

“…Of course I remember. Calm down, Professor. Please have a seat. Would you like something to drink?” Harry felt a little uneasy about Professor McGonagall’s behavior and quickly invited the old professor to sit on the sofa.

“Thank you, but I don’t have anything I’d like to drink.” Professor McGonagall sat upright on the sofa, staring intently into Harry’s eyes. Her gaze was exceptionally sharp. “Headmaster Potter, I understand that the headmaster’s office in the castle is not yet fully renovated, and I also understand that great wizards like you and Albus always have more important things to do.”

“No, not at all,” Harry said without hesitation. “There’s no need to talk like that, Professor McGonagall. You will always be the professor I respect most. Just call me Harry—just like you call Dumbledore Albus.”

“…Alright, Harry.” After staring at Harry for a few seconds, Professor McGonagall’s expression softened. She sighed heavily and said, “I can understand that there are elemental spirits running rampant outside, and I can understand your expertise in this area—but, Harry, you are the headmaster of Hogwarts. In your first year in office, you should focus on the students first. Their grades are the most important thing for the school.”

"What does that mean?" Harry didn't quite understand.

“That means Ms. Machiban from the Wizarding Examinations Authority is coming soon with her staff,” Professor McGonagall rubbed her temples, looking a bit annoyed. “The semester is almost over, and the fifth-year students are about to take their OWLs exams, while the seventh-year students will be facing their NEWTs exams.”

"I know this sounds unreasonable, but Harry, most wizards outside won't care that you've only been in office for less than half a semester. They only know that this group of students graduated when you first took office, and their grades—"

Professor McGonagall hesitated.

“Hmm, I think I understand,” Harry stroked his chin. “But there’s nothing that can be changed, right? Students who have already mastered the knowledge are a given, but those who haven’t mastered it won’t do any better even if they try harder.”

“At least you have to be there when the Wizarding Exams Authority comes, Harry,” Professor McGonagall said expressionlessly. “You’re the headmaster.”

“That Dumbledore—”

"When Albus was still the principal, he and Ms. Marchbine would take these two exams together every year."

“Okay, don’t be angry, I understand, I’ll be there, I won’t run around,” Harry agreed repeatedly.

"You'd better not wander off."

Leaving behind such a curt statement, Professor McGonagall turned and left the Great Totem—her office was still in the castle, and hadn't suffered much damage in the previous war.

If she hadn't been delivering a batch of accumulated documents to Harry for his approval today, Professor McGonagall would never have known that the new headmaster had also quietly left the school.

Of course, Harry didn't mind Professor McGonagall's anger. In fact, Harry was really grateful to the old professor for helping him with the work that should have been done by the headmaster. Otherwise, Harry didn't dare to imagine what kind of life he would have lived.

With a silent sigh, Harry began to work on the documents on the table.

"Ok?"

Picking up a letter bearing a blue coat of arms and two golden crossed wands, Harry recognized it as the emblem of Beauxbatons School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in France. The long, elegant cursive French signature on the envelope identified the sender as Orim Maxim.

This is the principal of Beauxbatons.

(End of this chapter)