ALL NOVEL Chapter 141: Galahad’s Relics
Led by the little badger Patronus, Harry entered the greenhouse.
A tall, red-haired woman greeted him at the entrance.
It was Helga Hufflepuff.
She stood half a head taller than Harry. Her features weren't stunning at first glance, but there was an undeniable charm to her — like sunlight on a winter morning or a refreshing drink on a hot summer day. Her appearance became more beautiful the longer one looked at her, a natural warmth radiating from her presence.
She was the kind of witch that people couldn't help but want to be close to.
"A young wizard?" Helga sounded surprised, her gaze immediately piercing through Harry's disguise. "I thought you were at least in your twenties, though your voice did sound a bit youthful."
Harry couldn't help but take a cautious step back.
There was a powerful aura about her — not quite on Dumbledore's level, but not far off either.
"Don't be afraid," Helga said with a gentle laugh. "You're the one who came looking for me."
"Sorry," Harry muttered, shaking his head.
Helga's gaze lowered to his waist. "I can sense a familiar magic... may I see what you've brought?"
Before Harry could remove the Sorting Hat from his belt, the Hat spoke up eagerly:
"Helga! It's been so long!"
Helga looked at the hat, her polite smile betraying a hint of confusion. "Do we know each other? You don't seem to be a Horcrux."
"Of course not!" the Hat said indignantly. "I was hoping this Helga would be like Godric, but it seems you're just a memory fragment."
Raising an eyebrow, Helga waved her wand. A table and two chairs floated over.
She gestured for Harry to sit and then flicked her wand again. Bags of flour, eggs, and sugar soared through the air.
"Do you prefer your cake sweet or mild?" she asked.
"Mild, please. Thank you," Harry replied politely.
With another flick of her wand, Helga set the ingredients to mix and cook in midair. In the blink of an eye, a warm cake topped with cream and a single cherry appeared.
Three plates of cake landed in front of the two people and the hat.
"I can't eat cake," the Sorting Hat said wistfully.
"Can't eat?" Helga looked surprised. "But you have a mouth."
"That's for talking — and singing," Harry said as he conjured a spoon and took a bite of the cake. It was perfectly sweet with a hint of cherry, and the warmth and freshness made it even better.
The Hat tilted its tip thoughtfully before responding:
"No, my mouth is for sorting students at Hogwarts! It's a crucial task."
"Hogwarts?" Helga repeated, her expression curious.
"Yes!" The Hat puffed up proudly. "The greatest magical school in the world!"
"Are you already thinking of founding it?" Harry asked as he glanced toward the depths of the greenhouse. He could sense a dozen or so children hiding behind the large plants, their hearts pounding nervously.
"Young wizards are dangerous," Helga sighed. "Both to themselves and to those around them."
She quickly composed herself. "Tell me about the future."
Harry, eating his cake, described the Hogwarts of the future and explained his purpose in entering the portrait world.
Helga listened intently, her eyes sparkling with delight. "That's wonderful! Hogwarts truly became a safe haven for young wizards."
"Hufflepuffs have always been outstanding," Harry added. "Your house has produced the fewest dark wizards of all."
"Absolutely," the Sorting Hat chimed in, wobbling proudly.
"And they've upheld your values — fairness, kindness, and equality for all students," Harry continued. "They're happy there. At least, they never have to worry about their next meal."
Helga chuckled. "That's indeed a luxury. Back in our time, many wizards struggled just to feed themselves."
She paused, then asked, "How do you plan to handle that job you took on?"
"Convince the parents to take their children back?" Helga asked hopefully.
The Sorting Hat shook vigorously.
"No, I never intended to complete that job," Harry said flatly.
The Hat was aghast. "Then why did you negotiate payment with them?"
Harry tapped the table. "I suspected the witch they mentioned might be you."
"And if it wasn't?"
"Then I'd need some way to gather information in this world," Harry replied. "Besides, it was fun."
Haggling over a few coins brought back fond memories of simpler times.
"So, you plan to tell them the children can't be found?" Helga sighed. "I've tried reasoning with them, but they..."
"Don't bother with reasoning," the Sorting Hat advised sagely.
Helga laughed. "You sound just like Godric."
"I'll use a Memory Charm," Harry said simply.
"A Memory Charm?" Helga's brow furrowed.
"It's a spell developed after your time," Harry explained. "It replaces a person's memories with false ones."
"I'll make them believe that their children were taken by the local lord to live better lives. If the children want to return when they grow up, they'll be safe to do so."
Helga's eyes lit up. "What a brilliant spell!"
"Do you know where Godric is?" Harry asked.
Helga looked into the distance. "Of course. He's in a nearby village, searching for Sir Galahad's relics."
"Galahad?"
"Yes," Helga smiled. "Godric has always been proud of his knightly identity. According to legend, Galahad's relics include the sword techniques taught by the Lady of the Lake."
Her gaze fell on the sword strapped to Harry's back.
"I've been meaning to ask — has Godric really introduced swordsmanship at Hogwarts?"
"No," Harry shook his head. "I learned it for personal reasons."
Helga looked relieved, then realized her reaction might be rude. "I meant no offense. It's just that few wizards have the talent to become swordmasters like Godric. Spells are usually more practical."
The Hat huffed. "Harry's swordsmanship is just as good as Godric's!"
"Not quite," Harry corrected calmly.
The Hat snapped its tip. "You beat him!"
"He was only using a suit of armor," Harry argued. "At best, it was the level of a top seventh-year student."
"And if he were here in person?"
"I'd still be better," Harry insisted.
The Hat refused to back down. "No, Godric would win!"
"Maybe in magic. But in swordsmanship, I'd have the upper hand," Harry replied firmly.
"Enough," Helga intervened with a laugh. "Let's settle it when you meet Godric in person."
The Hat perked up. "We'll see!"
"Would you like to rest here for a while?" Helga offered.
Harry shook his head. "No, thank you. I've already missed a day of detention. I need to get back."
"Detention?" Helga blinked in surprise. "A punishment for students?"
"You don't seem like the type to get into trouble."
The Hat chuckled mischievously. "Oh, he's not being punished. He's punishing the professors."
Helga stared at Harry in disbelief.
"For three years, Harry's been making the Transfiguration professor serve detention with him twice a week," the Hat explained gleefully. "During summer break, he even stays with the Charms professor for a month!"
"Poor Professor Flitwick returns to Hogwarts utterly exhausted," it continued.
Harry flattened the Hat with a smack. "Enough out of you."
"I'm just telling the truth," the Hat grumbled. "Helga deserves to know!"
"Goodbye, Madam Hufflepuff," Harry said as he stood up and secured the Sorting Hat at his waist.
"Goodbye, young wizard of Hogwarts," Helga said warmly, watching as the greenhouse vanished behind Harry, returning to a magical forest filled with silence and energy.
Back in the village, Harry used a Memory Charm to alter the villagers' recollections.
After confirming the location of Galahad's relics, he left before they could grab their pitchforks again.
Finding a suitable rock, he transformed it into a large, chestnut-colored horse with a white streak on its forehead. The horse nuzzled Harry affectionately, reminding him of Roach.
Every Witcher needs a faithful horse.
Harry vowed to discuss acquiring a magical mount with Dumbledore upon returning to Hogwarts — perhaps a unicorn, a thestral, or even a Granian.
Mounting his conjured horse, Harry rode off toward the next trial, leaving behind a trail of hoofprints in the dirt.
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Powerstones?
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