221- Hufflepuff’s Advice
Helga's threat made Salazar's expression change instantly.
Wild boar at—was that even edible?
It was gay, slly, and so tough it could crack a person's molars. The only remotely tender part of the entire animal might be the tongue.
If he really angered Helga and she cut off their pork supply, the students of Slytherin House would have no choice but to gather at the Black Lake and start fishing for their als.
"..."
"I have never once underestimated this craft!" Salazar surrendered imdiately. "Look, isn't this contributing to technological advancent?"
"You call this Contribution?" Helga let out a cold laugh and pulled out a roll of parchnt, waving it in front of Salazar. "Do you have so sort of misunderstanding about what 'contribution' ans?"
Salazar fell completely silent, afraid that saying anything more would further provoke this little firecracker in front of him.
He could understand why Helga was in a foul mood. A herd of wild boars had charged out of the Forbidden Forest during the night, trampling and destroying most of the fields she had painstakingly cultivated. And to make matters worse, the students who were supposed to be on duty last night had snuck out to go drinking.
One could only imagine Helga's fury when she stord into a tavern outside the school and found those students dead drunk.
Why had he chosen this exact mont to negotiate with her?
Salazar deeply regretted his timing.
After venting her frustration at her old friend, Helga finally handed over her insights on earth manipulation magic to Salazar. Then, she turned to the students working hard in the fields and shouted, "No one eats or sleeps until the replanting is done—without magic!"
As punishnt, those students had to replant the fields that the wild boars had destroyed—without using magic, relying solely on manual labor.
"Don't worry. I'll discuss it with Godric later. We'll head into the Forbidden Forest, hunt down a batch of wild boars, and use them as fertilizer for the fields," Salazar reassured her.
Only then did most of Helga's anger dissipate.
For wizards—especially a witch like her, who specialized in earth manipulation magic—achieving a bountiful harvest was actually quite easy.
She could even complete the entire process of sowing, watering, fertilizing, pest control, and harvesting purely through magical ans. Under the influence of magic, the yield per acre of grain or produce was significantly higher than what Muggles could achieve.
For instance, she could grow pumpkins as large as carriages, wheat stalks with heads as long as a person's arm, and even cover freshly tilled land with several feet of rich humus overnight.
But just because the work was easy didn't an the fruits of their labor could be wantonly wasted. This was why the usually kind and gentle Helga had decided to severely punish those students.
After receiving the booklet, Salazar flipped through it. When he finished, he couldn't help but sigh.
"What's wrong? Is there sothing wrong with my writing?" Helga imdiately leaned over to ask when she heard his sigh.
"I was just thinking… with a grand sorceress like you, a master of earth manipulation, leading the way, what's the point of studying soil-controlling spells?" Salazar suddenly felt a sense of emptiness.
No matter how deeply he delved into the knowledge recorded in the booklet, could he really surpass Helga Hufflepuff—the one who ruled over the domain of earth, the very witch so Muggles revered as the 'Mother Goddess of the Land'?
"Oh, so that's what's bothering you? I thought I had written sothing wrong," Helga patted her chest in relief.
"So what if I'm good at controlling the earth? Does that an you should stop studying this kind of magic just because I'm an expert? I'm still researching ways to make the sky bring down rain," she scolded Salazar.
"Every spell has its value. Rember that ridiculous 'make your enemy's weapon fly away' spell we saw in that village? It turned out to be incredibly powerful—almost ripped Godric's arm off! Even the silliest-looking spell, when studied deeply, can reveal unexpected value."
"There's a fable from ancient Greece about a tortoise and a hare. If the tortoise hadn't taken one steady step at a ti, it wouldn't have won the race, no matter how long the hare slept." As Helga spoke, she took back the parchnt she had given him, added a final note, and then handed it back to Salazar.
Later, using Helga's insights, Salazar combined them with his own domain and developed a spell with an astonishingly high endurance. Once he mastered it, no one could ever outlast him in a battle of attrition again.
If he wished—and if his enemy could endure it—he could fight continuously for months, even years.
…
Rhys slowly returned to reality.
He lifted his gaze toward Daphne, who was standing nearby, holding the parchnt he had given her.
Taking Helga Hufflepuff's notes from her hands, Rhys flipped through them and found that the pages were pristine—no damage, no wear, not even a single crease.
He was a bit surprised.
"I can tell you've taken great care of it. That's good, because this is Helga's original work," Rhys praised Daphne.
Silently, Daphne stretched out her hands and unfurled the parchnt. At the very top, in bold Latin script, was an inscription:
[For my friend, Salazar Slytherin. May he and his students co to understand the significance of 'earth' to humanity and the value of unwavering perseverance. —Helga Hufflepuff.]
"Yeah! This is a relic of Hufflepuff herself!" she exclaid loudly. "I copied everything from it directly—I never even flipped through the original! How could you just let people handle sothing this valuable without protection? Why didn't you warn beforehand?"
Daphne's tone was full of reproach. When she had first received the parchnt, she hadn't thought much of it and had simply stuffed it into her bag.
When she realized the parchnt's true origins, she broke out in a cold sweat—she had actually stuffed such a priceless artifact alongside heavy books and ink bottles? That was practically a cri.
If it had been damaged, she wasn't sure she could afford to compensate for it. Her family didn't possess relics of equivalent value—at least, not that her father had ever disclosed to them.
"Ah, sothing ca up at the ti, and I forgot. It's fine; if it gets dirty, magic can restore it," Rhys said, not particularly concerned. What Daphne saw as a priceless treasure, he regarded as nothing more than a keepsake from an old friend. Once he found that friend, he would have as many of these as he wanted.
"I told you—my family has a collection of many valuable artifacts. Now do you believe ?"
Daphne, anwhile, was silently thinking: Even my ancestors, who were Salazar Slytherin's students, didn't leave behind this many precious docunts. But your family? You have dieval letters, handwritten manuscripts from the Founders—this is ridiculous!
The more she thought about it, the more convinced she beca that Rhys must be a direct descendant of Slytherin himself.
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