A/N: Not congruent with Cursed Child or Fantastic Beasts canon

CHAPTER 1

Deep in the rugged Scottish Highlands, cool September air rushed over the hills, ruffling dry leaves from a robust willow tree, creating small ripples on the surface of dark lakewater, and whistling between the cracks in tall cut stones. To some eyes, this would seem to be a ruin, a forgotten relic of ages past. To others it appeared as it truly was: a vibrant castle alive with the centuries' worth of magical talent that walked its halls.

Chatter filled the Great Hall, the enchanted ceiling twinkling with starlight over the black-robed students below. At the front of the hall stood a flock of first years, some whispering excitedly and others visibly nervous. From the Hufflepuff table, Teddy Lupin watched with interest as a tiny, wrinkled wizard clambered onto a stool and held aloft a threadbare hat, commanding the room's attention. The Sorting was always most entertaining part of the welcome ceremony.

After Assistant Headmaster Flitwick's brief explanation of the Sorting, and a truly horrendous song (courtesy of the Sorting Hat), the first years were called forward alphabetically and perched on the stool to be Sorted. One after another, the newly Sorted first-years joined their Housemates to a smattering of applause. By the time the hat placed the last boy, Julius Zurk, into Ravenclaw, a new crop of Hufflepuffs had taken seats at the table, Teddy's hands stung from clapping, and the room filled with conversation once again. Across from Teddy, a first-year girl stared with wide eyes at the Sorting Hat, which sat rather lifeless on the stool, its task complete.

"What's your name then?" Teddy asked kindly. The girl tore her eyes away from the hat and stared at him.

"V-v-violet," she stammered.

"Muggle-born?" He noticed that often, muggle-borns had a similar reaction to their first experience at Hogwarts. The girl nodded.

"Its voice… was in my head," she whispered, looking uncertainly again at the Sorting Hat.

At this point, a nearby boy and one of Teddy's fellow prefects, Malcolm Lewis, leaned over.

"It's alright, nothing to be afraid of. I'm muggle-born too," he explained, "A bit overwhelming to start, isn't it?"

A clear, metallic ping interrupted Violet's reply. At the professors' table, the Headmistress had stood up and was tapping her spoon against the rim of a silver goblet.

"Welcome," she said, her voice shrill but strong, "to Hogwarts. We are happy to see students and staff back in our halls once again, and we look forward to another year with friends both old and new."

"That's Headmistress McGonagall," Teddy heard Malcolm whispering to the first-year girl, "Don't be intimidated, she's strict but fair. And mad about quidditch."

McGonagall half turned towards the professor's table. As she motioned with her hand, a tall, thin wizard stood at the left end of the table. He had a pale, lined face and greying hair, and made a little bow as he stood, as though a bit embarrassed.

"Please join me in welcoming our new Alchemy teacher, Professor Huxley Northcott. Professor Northcott has published The Encyclopedia of Ancient Medicines and serves as a permanent consultant to St. Mungo's Obscure Maladies Division. He is also a licensed healer in the British Isles and France, where he has conducted extensive research on forgotten medicinal treatments and practices. He will be teaching Alchemy Fundamentals to qualified students year five and up. Professor, thank you for offering your guidance and expertise to the young minds of today."

Polite applause ensued, and Professor Northcott bowed awkwardly before sitting once again.

"Note that the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds for all Hogwarts students," McGonagall continued, "And Madam Pomfrey requests that in her final year at Hogwarts, you refrain from extreme sickness or injury. She wants a nice quiet year before her retirement." Then, she spread her arms wide at the four tables before her. "With that, let the feast begin."

As the tables erupted with food, Teddy reached for the shepherd's pie in front of him.

"So are you taking Alchemy this term, Ted?" Malcom asked. Teddy shook his head.

"Pre-War Goblin History with Binns and Biennial Herbology with Sprout."

"Goblin History?" Malcolm repeated incredulously, "I can't imagine voluntarily taking another class with Binns. I could barely stay awake for the goblin history in the low-level classes."

"I made the O.W.L. scores for it." Teddy shrugged.

Malcom scowled. "One of the few I suppose."

Professor Binns did not have a good track record when it came to O.W.L. pass rates, and a few weeks later, Teddy was starting to regret the loss of his Tuesday and Thursday afternoons to Pre-War Goblin History. He had truly underestimated the man's ability to dither over extraneous details of the 772 AD Goblin rebellion. A class of about 30 students sat before the professor, glassy-eyed.

Staring out the narrow castle window, Teddy could see first-years struggling through a flying lesson as former Hollyhead Harpies beater Winona Yateman gestured dramatically from the ground. With his left hand he turned the stone in his robe pocket, absentmindedly feeling the shallow scratches on the back that had been etched by a child's hand many years ago. Outside, two of the first-years crashed head-on, falling a few feet in an entangled mass before regaining control of their individual brooms. Bemused, Teddy dragged his attention back to the ghost of Professor Binns.

"After Fisk the Finger Lopper was knighted by King Ragnuk the First, the wizarding economy suffered due to the high quantity of fake Goblin silver that had entered the market at this time. Although some believe that Fisk orchestrated the production of these fakes, it is generally thought that Hilda the Hungry acted of her own accord, and ordered the smiths in her forge to strike in retaliation for the tariff placed on imported goblin work by the Saxon territory the previous year. Consequently, a wave of striking began across the Goblin kingdom, and unscrupulous human smiths attempted to market their own subpar silverwork as Goblin-made." The professor paused for a breath.

"Some of you may remember Hilda the Hungry from our previous lecture on Goblin silversmithing. Many historians speculate that she may be a goblin ancestor of one of our founders, Helga Hufflepuff, through Huffplepuff's paternal line. Indeed, it is rumored that Hufflepuff was buried with the extensive collection of goblin metalwork that had been in her family for generations, although this has never been verified as her resting place has never been found. So Ragnuk the First–" Professor Binns broke off as a hand went up in the second row.

"Yes?" He asked, a look of mild surprise on his ghostly face. It wasn't often that Professor Binns's lectures inspired questions. "Miss…?"

"Kent" The Ravenclaw girl supplied. "But sir, why isn't the location of Hufflepuff's grave known? She had children and other relatives, hadn't she? Wouldn't her descendants know where she was buried?"

"That's been a mystery for some time you see," the professor replied, "The Smith family, Hufflepuff's only known living descendants, do not know the whereabouts of the grave, although they have conducted several extensive searches of the Welsh countryside. Indeed it seems that Hufflepuff's own children did not know. Many scholars believe that Hufflepuff herself placed obfuscation charms and other enchantments on the place to hide its location."

"But why hide it from her own children?" A Gryffindor boy asked from the back of the room.

Professor Binns ran his ghostly hands over the top of his desk. "It was well known that Hufflepuff did not trust her oldest son, Kell Hufflepuff, after he betrayed his sister Gertrude. Kell accepted a bribe from one of Gertrude's more…aggressive suitors in exchange for information on her daily schedule. When Gertrude repeatedly refused the suitor's approaches and pressure from her brother… it ended in her tragic death. After the incident, Kell was cut off from the rest of the family and lived out the rest of his days in a nearby muggle community. Perhaps Helga Hufflepuff wanted to prevent her son from raiding the family heirlooms after she had denied him inheritance."

Here, Professor Binns paused. Then, looking around the room he said, "Some scholars, however, believe that Hufflepuff was buried with something that she wanted very dearly to protect. A treasure of sorts."

"What was it?" Someone breathed.

After an ever-so-slight hesitation, the professor shrugged. "No one knows. Surely if it exists, it must be something of great value for Hufflepuff to keep it from so many generations for so long... Alas," he continued brusquely, "I digress. Hilda the Hungry and other Goblin smiths began their strikes in February 771 and continued through the spring and summer of that year."

A barely audible groan went up from the class. For once, Professor Binns had been saying something interesting. With a small sigh through the nose, Teddy dipped his quill in the inkpot and began doodling in the margins of his parchment.