Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures

Evan watched Hepzibah intently. Was she going to take out the Golden Cup?!

Helga Hufflepuff’s Golden Cup, Dumbledore had specifically told him to pay close attention to it.

During his two previous trips back to Hogwarts a thousand years ago, Evan had seen this cup up close. It had sat on Helga Hufflepuff’s desk. He also knew that it was one of Voldemort’s Horcruxes, but he had never examined it carefully, nor did he understand its connection to the homeland of the house-elves…

However, Evan did know exactly where Hufflepuff’s Cup was now.

After turning it into a Horcrux, Voldemort had entrusted it to Bellatrix Lestrange, just as he had given Riddle’s diary to Lucius Malfoy. Bellatrix, however, was far more loyal than Malfoy. She had hidden the cup deep inside her vault at Gringotts, a rather troublesome location.

Neither Bellatrix herself nor the goblins would willingly hand over the cup to Evan.

Therefore, if he wanted to get the Golden Cup, he would have to break into Gringotts and take it himself. Evan had originally planned to save that task for last.

But if the cup truly contained information about the homeland of the house-elves, then infiltrating Gringotts had to be moved up on his list of priorities.

In the room, as soon as Hepzibah finished speaking, Voldemort responded just right. He displayed just the right amount of interest — enough to appear keen, but not so much as to raise suspicion. He said softly, “I’d be glad to see anything Miss Hepzibah shows me.”

Hepzibah gave another girlish giggle, gazing at him fondly.

“I had Hokey bring it out for me. … Hokey, where are you? I want to show Mr. Riddle our finest treasure. … In fact, bring both, while you’re at it. …”

“Here, madam,” squeaked the house-elf.

In the distance, two leather boxes, one on top of the other seemed to be moving across the room as if of their own volition.

Evan knew that the tiny elf was holding them over her head as she wended her way between tables, pouffes, and footstools.

“Now,” said Hepzibah happily, taking the boxes from the elf, laying them in her lap, and preparing to open the topmost one. Then she paused and looked at Voldemort with a smile, “I think you’ll like this, Tom. … Oh, if my family knew I was showing you. … They can’t wait to get their hands on this!”

With Voldemort’s smiling “encouragement”, she opened the lid.

Evan and Harry both edged forward and saw a golden cup in the box.

It was dark gold in color, with two finely wrought handles. This was Helga Hufflepuff’s Cup. It was exactly as Evan remembered it. Yet, at first glance, there seemed to be nothing particularly remarkable about it. Hepzibah hadn’t taken it out of the box yet, leaving most of it obscured from view.

“I wonder whether you know what it is, Tom? Pick it up, have a good look!” whispered Hepzibah.

Voldemort stretched out a long-fingered hand and lifted the cup by one handle out of its snug silken wrappings. There seemed to be a red gleam in his dark eyes. His greedy expression was curiously mirrored on Hepzibah’s face, except that her tiny eyes were fixed upon Voldemort’s handsome features.

This stupid old woman, she didn’t know what she was doing!

Evan moved a little closer, adjusting his position to get a better look at the cup in Voldemort’s hand.

Intricate engravings adorned the cup’s surface — symbols of its heritage…

“A badger,” murmured Voldemort, examining the engraving upon the cup. “Then this was … ?”

“Helga Hufflepuff’s, as you very well know, you clever boy!” said Hepzibah, leaning forward with a loud creaking of corsets and actually pinching his hollow cheek. “Didn’t I tell you I was distantly descended? This has been handed down in the family for years and years. Lovely, isn’t it? And all sorts of powers it’s supposed to possess too, but I haven’t tested them thoroughly, I just keep it nice and safe in here. …”

At this time, Voldemort turned the cup upside down, and Evan noticed another engraving on its base.

Unlike the detailed carvings on the cup’s body, this mark resembled an emblem… or perhaps …

Before Evan could get a good look, Hepzibah had hooked the cup back off Voldemort’s long forefinger and restored it gently to its box, too intent upon settling it carefully back into position to notice the shadow that crossed Voldemort’s face as the cup was taken away.

Ignoring them, Evan glanced at Dumbledore, deep in thought. He had a theory about the information hidden within the cup, but he wasn’t certain yet.

Dumbledore simply smiled, motioning for him to keep watching.

Still reveling in the thrill of showing off her treasure, Hepzibah was practically glowing with satisfaction, “Now then,” she said happily, “where’s Hokey? Oh yes, there you are — take that away now, Hokey.”

The elf obediently took the boxed cup, and Hepzibah turned her attention to Voldemort.

“Well, Tom? What do you think of my little treasure?”

“Very precious,” said Voldemort quietly.

“Yes, my dear, it’s a family heirloom. But I think you’ll like this even more, Tom,” said Hepzibah, taking the much flatter box in her lap. “Lean in a little, dear boy, so you can see. … Of course, Burke knows I’ve got this one, I bought it from him. Paid quite the price for it, but it was worth every Knut; and I daresay he’d love to get it back when I’m gone. …”

She slid back the fine filigree clasp and flipped open the box. There upon the smooth crimson velvet lay a heavy golden locket.

Voldemort reached out his hand, without invitation this time, and held it up to the light, staring at it.

Oh, this thing was Slytherin’s locket. Its preciousness and importance were beyond doubt. The locket was one of the four items left by Salazar Slytherin. The magic on it had helped Evan many times. Moreover, even Ramses II said it was very extraordinary.

Of course, this thing was also of great significance to other pure-blood wizards and could be used to prove the nobility of their bloodline.

This was especially true for Voldemort, because this should have been his family’s property.

“Slytherin’s mark,” he said quietly, as the light played upon an ornate, serpentine S.

His expression was focused, and a hint of red flashed in his black eyes, and he seemed to have forgotten to hide his greedy look.

But he needn’t have worried, Hepzibah had once again overlooked these details.

At this moment, she was delighted, apparently, at the sight of Voldemort gazing at her locket, transfixed. “That’s right! I had to pay an arm and a leg for it, but I couldn’t let it pass, not a real treasure like that, had to have it for my collection. Let me tell you, Tom, Burke bought it, apparently, from a ragged-looking woman who seemed to have stolen it, but had no idea of its true value —”

There was no mistaking it this time: Voldemort’s eyes flashed scarlet at the words, and even his knuckles whitened on the locket’s chain.

Evan looked into Voldemort’s eyes, and this was a new discovery. Normal people’s eyes would not flash red. This was a manifestation of some magic. Interesting, very interesting. What kind of Dark magic had he performed on himself to make himself like this?!

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