Rhys and Daphne quickly rushed down to the garden.
"No doubt about it, this is a treasure left behind by Helga Hufflepuff, one of the Four Founders…"
Even from a distance, Rhys could hear Borgin enthusiastically introducing the treasure to Mr. Henry.
"..."
When he heard Hufflepuff's name, Rhys's heart gave a jolt.
"It's a complete set—very difficult to collect. Look at the carving style of the goblets, and the inscriptions on the base—they all match the period. Based on my research, I believe this may have been crafted in Helga Hufflepuff's later years," Mr. Borgin declared with absolute confidence.
What was unusual about this was that Borgin, a gray-market dealer operating out of Knockturn Alley, rarely dealt in fakes—especially when it came to these long-standing pure-blood families.
He might inflate prices, lowball sellers, or be vague about an item's actual function, but if he claimed something to be genuine, it usually was.
He was certain that this set of goblets was a true Hufflepuff relic.
"What happened to the third goblet?" The moment Mr. Jamison Henry Greengrass laid eyes on the set, he couldn't look away. Though the badger-eagle and badger-lion goblets were remarkable, what he cared about most was the badger-snake goblet. Yet that one had clearly been destroyed.
"That's exactly why I dare say this set is genuine," Mr. Borgin said with a mysterious smile. "As everyone knows, in his later years, the great Slytherin Lord was persecuted by the other three founders for the sake of the pure-blood families' interests and was forced to leave Hogwarts. So doesn't it make perfect sense that the goblet Helga Hufflepuff gave him would have been destroyed?"
Borgin had long since mastered the skill of tailoring his words to his audience. Since he was currently in Greengrass Manor, Salazar Slytherin was naturally painted as a poor, persecuted victim.
This conversation was clearly heard by Rhys. He smacked his lips, feeling that the set of goblets was most likely something Helga Hufflepuff had thrown together a few days ago just to make ends meet.
As someone directly involved in the original story, he certainly had no memory of Helga ever giving him such a gift.
Daphne had also heard the exchange between her father and Borgin. She glanced at Rhys, clearly wanting to know what he thought of it.
"Rhys.."
"If it's really a relic from the era of the Four Founders, I can tell at a glance," Rhys said confidently.
"Then do you think what Mr. Borgin brought is the real deal?" Daphne immediately followed up.
"I don't know." Rhys smiled and gave an answer that only deepened the mystery.
Daphne:???
Then she realized: "So this set of goblets is a fake?"
But to her surprise, Rhys shook his head again.
He genuinely didn't know whether this set should be classified as a forgery—after all, it was indeed made by Hufflepuff herself.
It was just that the set hadn't had the chance to be gifted yet.
Rhys figured that even if every cultural relic expert in the world were summoned here and argued for three days and nights, they still wouldn't come to a definite conclusion.
Mr. Henry finally noticed Rhys and Daphne standing not far away. When he saw Rhys, his eyes lit up—who could possibly be more qualified to authenticate this set of treasures than him?
He was quite taken with the goblets, but he still had some doubts. Relics from the Four Founders were extremely rare; most previously discovered ones were correspondence between the founders and other wizards of their time. And now, three goblets had appeared at once—and as a complete set, no less…
Anyone would be suspicious.
"Mr. Rhys… you're here! Come, have a seat!" Mr. Henry immediately called out warmly, inviting Rhys over.
Seeing how warmly Henry treated Rhys, a glint flashed in Mr. Borgin's eyes. He remembered this boy very well. How had he gotten in so tight with the Greengrass family?
Once Rhys was seated, Mr. Henry looked at him with eyes full of expectation—the message in them was clear. Rhys felt he ought to lend Henry a hand—especially after being so warmly hosted over the past month.
"How much are you asking for this set of goblets?" Rhys decided to hear the asking price first.
"Three thousand Galleons. A very fair price," Borgin replied.
Rhys: "…"
Are these goblets made of gold—oh, they are gold—but still, that price is outrageous!
Just from Rhys's expression, Mr. Borgin could tell he thought the goblets were too expensive. He immediately began to defend his price—
"These aren't just three ordinary goblets; they're magical goblets. Look—" Borgin took out his wand and conjured a stream of clear water.
He poured the water into the first goblet, and it turned into wine. The second goblet turned it into beer. The third transformed it into something that resembled vinegar.
Rhys's face twitched slightly.
Mr. Borgin looked at the two of them with a gaze that said, "See? I wasn't lying."
"Three thousand Galleons… only a family as rich as the Greengrasses could afford that," Rhys said with a tight smile that didn't reach his eyes.
Mr. Borgin didn't respond—he simply turned to look at Mr. Jamison Henry. He had full confidence in the value of his goods.
Mr. Henry was clearly conflicted. He didn't understand why his esteemed ancestor refused to just say it plainly. Was it to avoid offending Borgin? Nonsense—he wasn't the least bit afraid of that middleman.
Rhys was just as conflicted—because the classification of this item was far too complicated.
After thinking for a long while, he finally decided to leave the choice up to Mr. Henry.
"If you're willing to spend three thousand Galleons on these three goblets, that's entirely your choice. They were indeed made by Helga Hufflepuff."
Mr. Henry narrowed his eyes—he picked up on something subtle in his ancestor's tone. So even with Rhys's endorsement, he still politely escorted Mr. Borgin out of the manor.
"My lord, about that…" Once Borgin had left and Daphne had gone back upstairs, Henry finally voiced the doubts in his heart.
"They really were Hufflepuff's work," Rhys explained, "but they're not nearly as mystical as he made them sound. They're basically mass-produced goods—not worth three thousand Galleons. There's a large supply of them. If you want, I can get you a few myself."
Rhys even suspected that Borgin hadn't paid more than three hundred Galleons when he bought the goblets from Helga.
Now Mr. Henry fully understood and repeatedly thanked him.
Rhys waved it off—he simply didn't want to see Henry waste his money. Better to let Borgin take those goblets and go swindle some foolish rich buyer instead.
Once Henry had also left, Rhys couldn't help but stretch lazily—he had finally repaid the favor of Henry's hospitality over the past few weeks.
He was starting to grow a little tired of staying in the manor and felt like heading out for a change of pace.
But where to go? That was a good question.
Then, an image of Harry surfaced in Rhys's mind: that child, who carried the "magic of love" left behind by his mother.
And this magic of love had even led to some truly fascinating magical effects.
Rhys wanted to go see this legendary magic in action for himself.
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