Seeing that Helga was determined, Rhys didn't stop her anymore. He simply told her that if things didn't work out officially, she could always sneak into the castle and "squat" there for a while.
Helga: "..."
She didn't even know where to begin with that one.
Just a few months ago—by her reckoning—she was one of the founders of Hogwarts. Now she had to worry about whether the school would even hire her?
Just by looking at her expression, Rhys could tell exactly what she was thinking. With a teasing grin, he said, "If you reveal your real identity, Dumbledore will probably step down on the spot—after all, we're talking about the legendary witch, Helga Hufflepuff!"
Helga gave him a look.
"If that day ever comes, I'll expose you and Rowena first. Then we'll just skip straight to reinstating the four founders and go back to ruling the school together." Her voice was cool and sharp.
Since the old snake and the old raven weren't planning to reveal their true identities, she wouldn't either—no need to turn it into an awkward mess later.
That's the power of groupthink.
"Don't worry. There'll probably be an opening next year. You can try teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts," Rhys said with absolute confidence.
Helga: Huh?
When Rhys explained the so-called "curse" that had been placed on the Defense Against the Dark Arts post at Hogwarts, Helga was completely speechless.
Salazar, how old are you now? And you still believe that nonsense?
You, at your level as a wizard, actually buy into something like that? Did your mentality get younger when your body did, too?
She studied Rhys carefully and began to feel her guess wasn't far off—clearly, the state of one's physical body could influence one's mental state.
Once that thought clicked into place, Helga simply nodded with feigned sincerity, putting on the classic "ah yes, of course" face.
Rhys didn't mind. He figured that in a few years, Helga would believe in the curse too—just like he had. He hadn't believed it at first either, but after digging into the fates of the past ten or so Defense Against the Dark Arts professors, he started to think that maybe Voldemort really had invented some sort of bizarre curse.
Curses were a subclass of spellwork, ranging from minor annoyances like giving someone hives to deadly effects like causing immediate death upon contact with a cursed object.
But most curses were either directed at specific individuals or attached to tangible items.
Voldemort's curse defied both norms.
He hadn't cursed a particular person, nor had he bound the curse to any one object. What he had cursed was the idea—the abstract concept—of "whoever becomes the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts." The medium wasn't a wand or a talisman; it was the position itself.
It was deeply counterintuitive. Deeply un-magical, even.
Rhys sometimes wondered—if the subject of the course were changed, would the curse follow?
If the Defense Against the Dark Arts class were redefined or renamed, would the curse shift as well?
For example, what if the Headmaster of Hogwarts changed the course name to "Defense Studies"? Would the professor of that class still be affected?
The more he thought about it, the more intrigued he became—until, suddenly, a brilliant idea struck him.
He decided to persuade Helga Hufflepuff to test it.
"Helga—" Rhys started to speak, but then stopped mid-sentence.
A far more interesting idea had just occurred to him: Helga Hufflepuff is powerful enough… could she actually resist the curse?
Originally, he had planned to suggest that after becoming the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Helga should ask Dumbledore to change the name of the subject—see if that would bypass the curse.
But now he has changed his mind.
He wanted to see if Helga herself could break the pattern that had plagued the position for over a decade.
Let's find out—was his old friend's life force tougher, or was Voldemort's curse stronger?
If Helga knew what Rhys was thinking right now, she would absolutely throw him out the window, then bury him neck-deep in desert sand.
But to be fair, Rhys didn't have many other options. The ideal person to test a theory like this would've been Godric… but he had no way of contacting him at the moment.
"Something on your mind?" Helga asked, puzzled, after hearing Salazar call her name only to fall silent.
"You'll need to spend a bit of time preparing," Rhys quickly pivoted. "Over the last thousand years, magical education has changed quite a bit."
At that, Helga laughed.
Who did he think she was? There wasn't a situation she hadn't seen before. Among the four founders, she had always invested the most in teaching. She didn't need any prep—she could walk into a classroom right now and start teaching.
"In today's magical world," Rhys said, "no one even understands the flow of mana anymore—no one teaches it, no one studies it. It's already faded from memory."
Helga Hufflepuff: "What?!"
She was utterly stunned. How could young witches and wizards a thousand years later not even study mana flow anymore?
"That field was phased out," Rhys explained. "Modern wizards found a pretty effective replacement." He gave her a brief overview of the development of Spell Theory.
Helga fell silent.
With spells being so convenient now, it made sense that the study of mana flow had faded away. But without understanding the flow of magic, achieving something like a domain was next to impossible.
And without a domain, a wizard could only ever be second-rate at best.
So that meant… the magical ceiling of today's wizarding world was permanently capped at second-tier?
In any case, after learning that students didn't even know about mana flow, her mindset shifted. She began to think that maybe she did need to prepare properly—really figure out what today's magical curriculum looked like.
Helga had no intention of forcing a full return to the old ways and launching a sweeping revival of mana flow studies. In her mind, if a discipline had faded into obscurity, it had probably done so for a reason.
Besides, she firmly believed that the old snake and the old raven had already found their own solutions—she refused to believe those two were still helpless when it came to something this simple, not after being awake for two whole years.
"Those two little apprentices of yours," she asked cautiously, "they do understand mana flow… right?"
"Of course, they are my students after all," Rhys said, unable to resist showing off his students in front of his old friend once again.
Helga chose to selectively ignore the second half of his sentence and focused on the key point: Rhys was willing to teach mana flow to students with sufficient talent.
That was a solid approach. The downside of studying magical flow was that it was incredibly difficult—but the upside was an extraordinarily high ceiling. Letting a select few prodigies explore that path was, indeed, a smart solution. However…
Helga glanced at Rhys.
How exactly was he determining whether a child's talent was "sufficient" or not?
It's not like the magical world had a crystal ball where a child could just slap their hand on it and instantly see their aptitude rating.
Those two kids of his… probably owed their "opportunity" to their last name, didn't they?
Helga decided she'd need to come up with her own method—she couldn't do things the way Salazar did.
Then again… maybe a crystal ball like that wasn't impossible to create. Inspiration surged within her like a spring bubbling to the surface. She decided that once she returned to Hogwarts, she would begin researching how to craft exactly the kind of crystal sphere she envisioned.
"Want a cup?" Rhys asked, changing the subject and pouring her some coffee.
"Thanks."
And so, wrapped in the comforting aroma of coffee, their conversation gradually drifted toward more casual, everyday chatter.
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