A/N:Sorry for the delay...I've been dreading writing this chapter to be honest because I'm always so confused about the cup and its powers. Still, I hope I've done at least a passable job! As always, thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and special thanks to Moonlit Dreaming who is always the source of amazing ideas!
THE CUP
Helga could barely see over the dark wood of the bar. She had never been back here, where the bottles and the kegs were kept. This was where Flossie the landlady took her place, shouting at drunks and laughing with their wives. Helga quickly decided that this wasn't as enjoyable as being over the other side of the bar, singing songs and collecting tankards.
"Helga! Two ales!"
Helga jumped and saw Flossie's stern expression; something that never failed to motivate her. Helga's father didn't like Flossie, and told her often, but Flossie still remained and Helga was glad. She had a short temper and a fearsome glare, but she smiled at Helga when no one was looking and let her sing songs in the inn whenever she wanted to.
She carried two foaming tankards to Flossie who took them off her with a small smile. She turned back to the wives and handed them over. Helga was left resting an elbow on the bar, watching Walter from the farm pluck at the strings of a lute.
Then, even above all the noise, Helga heard the door open. An old woman made her way to the bar and sat down, groaning as she took the weight off her feet. She had a walking stick covered with engravings Helga couldn't quite make out and she wondered if they were runes. The woman saw her watching and smiled, revealing more gaps than teeth. Then she reached inside her cloak and pulled out a cup of gleaming silver.
"Do not just stand there, girl! Bring me some wine."
Helga hesitated and saw Flossie still talking to two women at the bar. Knowing Flossie would not take kindly to being interrupted, Helga decided to do as the woman asked. She leaned across and poured wine into the silver goblet. The woman smiled again but didn't drink. Her attention was fixed on Helga.
"How old are you, girl?" The woman asked, peering at her with milky eyes.
"I am ten and one." Helga said, without a waver in her voice.
The woman laughed, slamming her bony hand down on the counter.
Helga bristled. "Why are you laughing?"
"I am sorry, dear girl." She wiped her eyes. "There is nothing amusing about being ten and one, of course."
She continued to titter to herself as Helga glowered, still clutching the bottle of wine. "Who are you?" Helga wondered aloud. "I know everyone in the village and I have never seen you before."
The woman chuckled. "I have not seen you either. That does not mean you do not live in the village."
Helga pondered this. "That is true. So you do come from the village?"
"You are a quizzical girl, aren't you?" The woman reached out and stroked the runed walking stick. "I live just outside. The people call me Nain."
Helga knew that name but she couldn't say from where. "Oh. What do you do?"
The woman wheezed another laugh. "I help those in pain."
Helga perked up. "You are a healer? You make potions and medicines?"
"Among other things. Sometimes people cannot be healed. Sometimes they wish to be granted a quick and clean end."
Helga resisted taking a step back from the woman.
Nain squinted "I have shocked you?"
"N-no. We all die. I know that."
Her milky eyes searched Helga's face. "Hmm."
The door opened again and the village bard came in, limping up the bar. He sighed and leaned against it, his wispy grey beard shivering with his breath. Helga beamed, relieved to be distracted from the strange woman.
"Old Ted!" She cried. "Are you going to sing tonight? We have not seen you here for a long time."
"Ah." Old Ted looked almost sad to see her. "Sweet Helga. I am afraid I will not be singing."
Helga's smile drooped a little. "Oh. I hope you are well, at least."
Old Ted sighed and he looked at Nain for the first time. He didn't seem shocked by her presence. "I am tired." He said, his eyes fixed on the old woman. "And I am in pain."
Nain studied him before sliding her silver goblet along the bar to him. Helga watched, feeling an odd urge to knock it from his hands. Once he had drained it, he placed the goblet back on the bar.
"It is time to go home." Nain said.
Old Ted nodded, doffed his scruffy hat to Helga and left the bar without another word. She stared after him for a good while, a sudden sadness rooting her to the spot.
"Helga!" Flossie's voice made her jump. "Bring out those pies!"
She put down the bottle of wine and made to turn into the kitchen. But she stopped and blinked. The old woman was gone, leaving nothing behind except a small ring of deep red wine on the bar.
"It has been long since dusk." Godric said, staring out of the window-shaped hole in the wall.
"Aye." Salazar agreed, sitting down on a small wooden bench. "Perhaps we should rest for the night."
Rowena agreed quietly, perching neatly beside Salazar and starting a fire in the grate with a small flick of her wand. As they talked, Helga watched them, wandering around the perimeter of the Hall and admiring their work. It had been a week since they started building Hogwarts and they had finally perfected the Hall. They had even begun building the corridors leading away from it and started work on the great marble staircase that would be the main access to every floor.
She smiled and carried over a large bowl of stew for them all, much to Godric's delight. They sat in front of the fire, eating the hearty stew as they talked about their plans for the school. The conversation excited her, even though they had spoken about it many times before. Rowena talked about building a great tower up into the sky, Salazar talked about building down into the dark rock and Godric - to everyone's surprise - was also talking about building up into the sky, but he quickly told them that he only wanted to have a good view of the forest and the grounds.
Once they had eaten, Salazar pulled out a rich bottle of expensive wine for them all to share. Godric was about to fetch some goblets when Helga stopped him.
"Perhaps we should all drink from my goblet." She said, holding the new golden goblet aloft with a smile.
There was pause. "As wonderful as it is, Helga," Godric began slowly. "Why should we all drink from one goblet?"
She smiled. "We are tired and this will soothe us."
None of them moved. She sighed and took the bottle from Salazar before he had a chance to stop her. She poured a generous amount, swilling it around before presenting it to him. He raised a dark brow at her before taking it slowly. They watched as he sipped. Then he swallowed and paused. His eyes widened with surprise, a slight smile on his face.
"Helga, that is...remarkable."
"What is it?" Rowena said quickly.
Salazar looked into the goblet. "I feel...renewed."
Godric took the goblet from him and took a deep glug. Then he blinked and stared at Helga. "My stamina is returned! I was so tired and now I feel as though I could build all of the castle in one night!"
"Perhaps you should have saved this until the morning, Helga." Rowena said with a smile. She gestured to the goblet. "May I?"
"Of course."
Helga watched as her friends passed the goblet around, laughing with renewed vigour. There was nothing that made her feel as content as seeing her friends getting along effortlessly, sitting in the middle of the greatest adventure any of them had ever attempted.
Once their evening meal was over, Helga sorted the bowls and placed the empty bottle of wine on the table. She was smiling down at the goblet in her hand, when Salazar's voice made her jump.
"May I examine it?"
She was unable to deny that she felt a touch smug that her goblet had intrigued him so.
"Of course. Here." She passed it to him and he peered at it in the fading light.
He waved his wand, a light erupting from the end. Then his pale eyes took in the elegant handles, the finely engraved badger, and the small purple sapphires that adorned the stem. Then he looked inside it and frowned. Helga stifled a laugh. He glared at her over the top.
"How does it work?" Helga just smiled. He gritted his teeth. "I implore you...I must know."
She took it from him and twirled it between her fingers. She was never someone for secrets, but she couldn't deny that she wanted to keep much of her goblet's traits to herself. It had been a long project and she felt that she alone should be privy to it. She glanced at Salazar, whose jaw was twitching.
"I will not tell you all of it...but I will tell you this: this goblet was made with much more than skill."
Salazar stared at her as though he could not fathom such a thing.
He would not understand, she realised. So she just gave him another smile and said no more. And he never asked again.
"Father! Father!"
Adam looked up from the Headmaster's desk just in time to see his two sons hurtling towards him. They clung to his chest as he wrapped his arms around them, his work forgotten.
"I am glad to see you, boys. Where is your mother?"
"Picking blackberries." Nicholas squeaked, clawing at his father's woollen tunic. Adam smiled, picking the youngest boy up and placing him on his knee with one arm. But Peter wasn't paying attention to his younger brother and was instead staring at the golden goblet on the desk.
"What is that, father?"
Adam picked up the goblet. "This was your grandmother's." Peter's eyes widened and he reached out to touch it with a tentative, pudgy finger.
"Truly, father? This is the goblet you spoke about?"
He nodded, balancing Nicholas against his chest and he turned in his chair to see his eldest son. He passed the goblet to Peter who took it with wide eyes.
"What does it do, father?"
"Whoever drinks from this goblet experiences a sudden surge of vitality. The drinker feels the weight of fatigue and stress lifted almost immediately."
Peter blinked at his father, stared at the goblet for a moment and then placed it back down on the desk carefully. "Grandmother was very clever, father."
Adam smiled, a tug of grief aching in his chest. "Yes, she was."
The boys rushed off soon after, the lure of freshly picked blackberries too strong for them to resist. Adam watched them run across the lawns from the office window, smiling with sweet sadness. He still remembered the first time he crossed those lawns, the sight of the castle almost too big from him to take in. He remembered being greeted by a blonde witch with a soft face and a big smile.
"Hello, children. Welcome to Hogwarts. I am Professor Hufflepuff."
Mother.
Not by birth, but by bond. Orphaned and penniless, Helga Hufflepuff had taken him in and treated him like her own son.
He glanced behind him and stared at her dozing portrait. She sat in the very same chair he now sat in, the goblet in the exact same place in her portrait as it was on his desk. He wandered over, picked up the goblet and examined it.
There was Gryffindor with his bravery and his sword. Ravenclaw with her knowledge and her diadem. Slytherin with his ambition and his locket.
And yet, out of all of them, his mother's cup was the only one no one could work out.
The magic was complex and unusual. He had asked four academics to view it and none of the could understand it. How did it work? It appeared to be no simple spell, but something tied to her own personality. There was no enchantment like it and Adam found himself endlessly frustrated by it. If only he had asked her about it before she passed away.
Still, as he placed the goblet back on the desk, he couldn't help but chuckle.
Outfoxing everyone, even in death.
He glanced up at her portrait again. She had woken up, staring at him with mischievous eyes and a slight smile on her face.
He smiled back. "How wonderfully you, mother."