NOVEL NEXT Chapter 140: Helga Hufflepuff
"So, that beast is a big threat to you all?" Harry asked, watching the men's expressions closely. "Do you need my help with it?"
"But your horse is dead," a young man mocked. "A knight who can't even protect his own mount?"
Harry waved a hand dismissively. "Oh? But the beast didn't harm me at all."
He extended his hands openly. "Do I look like someone who just escaped by the skin of my teeth?"
The men scrutinized him carefully.
His armor was covered with battle scars, both fresh and old. Though they had seen many knights pass through, none had ever worn armor as finely crafted as his.
His shoes were spotless, with barely any dust on them.
His hair was neatly combed.
And his eyes…
One of the men gasped, unable to suppress a scream.
"Y-You're a freak… A wizard?" They raised their pitchforks in alarm, their voices filled with fear and anger. "You're here to steal our children again, aren't you?"
Harry blinked in surprise.
What a familiar insult… I haven't heard that one in years. It almost felt nostalgic.
"Have you ever seen a wizard wield this?" Harry asked, unsheathing the serpentine bone sword. The pale white blade gleamed coldly in the light, radiating a chill that ordinary steel swords never could.
"Or would you like to try it for yourselves?"
The men kept their pitchforks raised, trembling but resolute.
"You really aren't one of those freaks?" one of them stammered, hesitant but curious.
Harry softened his tone. "I heard you say 'again.' Seems like you've lost children before? Tell me more."
The men exchanged wary glances.
Harry sheathed his sword and slipped his hand casually into the Sorting Hat, disguised as a pocket.
"I'm a very capable knight," he said calmly, "and I've slain plenty of wizards."
"You've killed wizards?" one man exclaimed, his face lighting up with hope.
Harry nodded. "Yes, I have."
"I can help you with your problem, but I'll need payment."
The men were still distrustful, especially of Harry's strange, feline-like eyes.
They huddled together, whispering and debating.
The younger man kept his pitchfork trained on Harry, who sat down on a nearby rock and leisurely pulled out a bottle of milk from the Sorting Hat, sipping it as if he had all the time in the world.
After a long discussion, they called the women over to join. Eventually, they pushed one man to the front.
He was nearing forty, with scars on his face and hands—marks left by bears and wolves. Though one leg was lame, he moved with strength and confidence. His remaining leg was clad in a deerskin boot that didn't seem to fit quite right.
"Sir Knight," the man addressed Harry respectfully, his expression serious. "Can you truly kill wizards?"
Harry nodded once.
"Can you prove—"
Harry cut him off, his tone icy. "Why would I need to prove anything to you?"
The cold look in Harry's eyes sent a chill down the man's spine. He had faced bears and wolves, but nothing felt as dangerous as this stranger.
The man quickly changed his approach. "We do have a problem. If you help us solve it, we'll pay you handsomely."
"Go on," Harry gestured for him to continue.
The man sat cross-legged on the ground in front of Harry.
"You know how wizards always bring bad luck," he began. "It was about a year ago when a witch came to our village. She set up her home in the woods over there."
He pointed behind Harry.
Harry didn't turn to look, simply nodding to show he was listening.
The man continued.
"Things were fine at first. We've always had minor troubles—no doctors around, the mill breaking down now and then, and the lord rarely sending anyone to check on us. But we managed."
"The witch started trading potions and food with us in exchange for supplies. We thought she was kind."
"But after she stayed in the forest for a month, strange things began to happen."
"Old Tom's son suddenly floated into the air and landed on the roof. And John's daughter—she revived a dead flower right before our eyes. But later that day, a child who was with her fell ill and nearly died."
Harry quickly deduced the truth: magical outbursts.
Two young wizards.
"How old are they?" Harry asked.
"One's eight, the other six," the man replied.
Harry motioned for him to continue.
The man wrinkled his brow, thinking carefully before speaking again.
"That witch came to Old Tom and John, asking for their children. She offered money, potions, food—whatever they wanted."
"But you know how it is!"
"We're not desperate enough to sell our kids!"
Harry snorted softly.
Some things never change, no matter the world.
The man fidgeted uncomfortably before continuing.
"After that, our children vanished. She must have stolen them!"
"Any evidence?" Harry asked.
The man hesitated, lowering his head. "We don't have any proof. But it had to be her. We're sure of it."
He raised his head again, eyes filled with rage. "After the children disappeared, she vanished too. Whenever we tried to find her, beasts would drive us away from the forest."
Harry nodded thoughtfully.
She didn't kill anyone—just scared them off.
She didn't seem entirely evil.
"So, you want me to bring your children back?"
The man nodded, teeth clenched. "And kill that witch! She's a danger to our village!"
"And my payment?" Harry asked.
The man hesitated. "How much do you want?"
Harry remained silent, staring him down.
"Five silver pennies," the man finally offered, gritting his teeth.
"Fifty," Harry countered without hesitation.
The man's eyes widened in horror. "We don't have that kind of money, Sir Knight!"
Harry stood, ready to leave.
"Ten! How about ten pennies?" the man pleaded.
Harry kept walking.
"Fifteen!" the man called out desperately.
Harry slowed his pace.
"Twenty-one! That's the most we can offer!" The man was practically begging. "We still have to pay taxes to the lord."
Harry turned back. "Very well. Get it ready for when I return."
The man breathed a sigh of relief. "Of course, Sir Knight. May you be safe and victorious!" He chanted an old rune blessing for safe return and triumph—though it carried no magical power.
Harry followed the man's earlier directions into the forest.
"Are you really going to help them?" the Sorting Hat asked. "These people seem awfully shady. I doubt they're honest."
"There's fresh blood in that village," Harry said softly. "Human blood."
The Hat fell silent.
"Did you notice their clothes?" Harry asked.
The Hat twitched. "Not really."
Harry tapped it lightly. "Pay more attention. Some of them were wearing fine clothes that didn't fit. The women had jewelry they shouldn't own, and the men wore high-quality boots that didn't suit them."
The Hat nodded thoughtfully.
"You think they're using the witch as an excuse to lure and rob travelers?"
Harry nodded. "Exactly. They probably ambush knights and merchants, kill them, and steal their possessions."
"And you're still going?" The Hat twisted in concern. "Isn't that dangerous?"
"The witch doesn't seem like a bad person," Harry replied. "If she were a dark wizard, that village wouldn't even exist anymore."
"She likely offered to take the children to prevent them from becoming Obscurials."
The Hat perked up. "You think it's Helga?"
Harry nodded. "This trial involves a kind-hearted witch. Who else could it be?"
"Oh, yes! That does sound like Helga Hufflepuff," the Hat said cheerfully.
"I always thought she was a highly respected figure."
"She was," the Hat confirmed. "Even Godric and Salazar held her in high regard."
"Stealing children doesn't sound very respectable."
"Stealing?" The Hat scoffed. "It wasn't stealing—it was saving!"
"If they became Obscurials, those children would have died—and the village too. Helga was being compassionate."
Harry patted the Hat lightly. "So, she did take children when necessary?"
The Hat fell silent for a moment before muttering reluctantly, "It was saving, not stealing…"
They soon reached a magical barrier deep in the forest.
Harry tried sending a friendly spell through it, but the barrier rejected it with a crackle of energy.
"Not willing to talk, huh?" Harry muttered.
He cast Expecto Patronum, and his silver griffin emerged, carrying his message through the barrier.
Moments later, the barrier dissolved, revealing a large, rustic greenhouse in the heart of the forest.
A small badger Patronus bounded toward Harry, carrying a gentle voice:
"Welcome, traveler. Please, come inside."
"If you've come seeking the village's missing children, you're welcome here."
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Powerstones?
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