[211] Who Goes First

Lockhart's mind was already racing, imagining himself as a radiant hero in his next book after this adventure.

He gave Hall a look. "I know you're not your average third-year, so don't try anything funny. You go in first."

He wouldn't enter unless he was certain the fireplace was safe. Call it cowardice or caution, but Lockhart always let others scout ahead. If he weren't sure where the fireplace led, he'd probably have stayed hidden until Hall cleared all the obstacles before revealing himself.

"Let me go first!"

"I should go first!"

Fred and George had no intention of following Lockhart's orders. Hall was their brother. No matter what others said, in the twins' eyes, he was someone they needed to protect.

Hall's face was cold, but inside he wasn't that angry. He'd noticed Little hadn't shown up.

Several thoughts flashed through his mind. He slipped into a blind spot where Lockhart couldn't see him and gently patted the twins' arms.

With years of brotherly bond, they understood instantly. They exchanged a glance and played along.

Lockhart, oblivious to the silent understanding between the three Weasleys, was lost in fantasies of success. A new novel, a new film — he could already imagine his fame surpassing his former glory.

"Hall Weasley must be at the front!" Lockhart declared. "You two are my hostages."

The twins nearly rolled their eyes. Someone actually didn't take two fifth-years seriously? They were twins! Did he know the significance of twins?!

"Hurry up!" Seeing Hall motionless, Lockhart pointed his wand at Fred and George. "No time to waste on you!"

He turned and cast a Memory Charm at the house-elves, stunning one at random. "Shut up! Be quiet!"

Most of the Floo Powder in Hall's hand had spilled out. He stepped out from behind Fred and George.

"Fine. Where do you want me to go?"

Lockhart's expression stiffened visibly. Where to? How should he know? He'd only overheard bits about the kitchen, a secret room, Hufflepuff. He knew nothing else.

"Don't try to fool me!" Lockhart's face darkened. "I know you have something in mind. If you dare trick me, who knows what will happen to your brothers."

He couldn't think of a plan, so threats were all he had.

"Don't give me any destination!" Lockhart said smugly. "Your brothers are still in my hands. Even if you escape, what if they end up as idiots who remember nothing?"

Hall sneered. "A coward who only knows how to bully his own kind."

Lockhart didn't understand the insult, but from Hall's expression and tone, he knew it wasn't nice. "Shut up and move."

Hall walked to the fireplace and closed his eyes. His brain raced. Floo Network, Floo Powder — there had to be a precise destination. Where was he going? A secret room? Which one? How many secret rooms were there in Hogwarts? He used to think he knew, but with his growing understanding of the castle, he wasn't so sure anymore.

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Lockhart urged him on from behind.

Hall opened his eyes. He'd take a gamble and leave everything to Lady Hufflepuff to decide.

"Helga Hufflepuff."

Floo Powder scattered into the fireplace. The orange-red flames turned blue-green. Hall's figure disappeared.

Hearing the destination, Lockhart froze. Helga Hufflepuff? That was a name! Before his brain could restart, the twins struck.

"Now!"

Several silver coins flew toward Lockhart.

"Prote—" His incantation was cut short by a blinding flash of white light.

Fred and George found a corner, dropped their Invisibility Cloaks. When the light faded, Lockhart lay on the ground, fast asleep and completely defenseless.

They ignored him and rushed to the fireplace. Floo Powder — nothing. The flames wouldn't change.

The twins exchanged a glance. This was bad.

Mud after rain. Manicured lawn. Sunlit forest.

A vibrant, colourful scene unfolded before Hall, a cacophony of scents filling his nostrils. He felt profoundly calm, devoid of fear. He'd called out Helga Hufflepuff's name when using Floo Powder — logically it shouldn't have worked. But the Floo Network was functioning.

Was it the Floo Network's fault, or the fireplace?

Hall felt a surge of excitement — could he try this at home?

"Young Master Slytherin."

Hall looked up. The vibrant colours had subsided. A large tree trunk swayed overhead, and a house-elf wearing a tawny shawl emblazoned with the Hufflepuff insignia stood a short distance away.

"Little." Hall recognised him. He hadn't seen the house-elf in the kitchen recently.

"You've always been in charge of cleaning and using this fireplace," Hall said. Not a question, but certainty.

Little didn't deny it. "Yes. Since Mistress Helga left, I've been in charge of this place."

He turned, looking at the vast forest behind him. For a moment Hall thought he'd entered the Forbidden Forest, but he didn't sense Nurmengard nearby. This was a previously undiscovered forest.

"Of course they're the founders — they all have their own little secrets." Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets. Ravenclaw's private library. Hufflepuff's private forest. And Gryffindor?

"Mistress Helga often entertained the other three founders here," Little said, with a slightly disapproving tone.

Hall understood. Not a secret. Just that non-founders weren't entitled to be invited.

Little nodded in satisfaction.

Hall chose to examine the forest. Once he quieted down, he found it unusually silent — unlike the Forbidden Forest, which rustled with living things. Every tree here was exceptionally tall, at least four hundred years old.

"Aren't there any magical plants here?" Hall asked.

Little smiled proudly. "Mistress Helga left a potion plantation not far from here. Would the young Slytherin like to see?"

Hall readily agreed.

He imagined something like the Hogwarts greenhouses. Then he arrived at a seemingly unremarkable little wooden cabin.

"It seems Lady Hufflepuff's ambitions far surpassed Lady Ravenclaw's and Slytherin's," Hall said sincerely. They had their own rooms with magic circles or precious books. But this cabin...

The moment Hall stepped inside, he felt as if he'd entered another realm. Layers upon layers of spatial folding magic were cast within this ordinary, dilapidated cabin. It possessed its own system of sun, moon, and stars, its own day and night.

The vast space stretched as far as the eye could see, divided into different areas. Moon Lotus blooming in a water source with its own moonlight. Blazing Grass growing in an arid desert under an eternal sun. Every potion ingredient grew in its most suitable environment, each area a small world, independent yet intertwined.

"This potion garden is Mistress Helga's masterpiece," Little said. "My job is to manage it."

Hall nodded thoughtfully. "That forest outside is a small room created through spatial simulation?"

Little looked surprised that Hall realised it so quickly. He admitted it.

"You set up a Floo Network here. Probably not entirely legal." Hall stroked his chin. "Wait — I still feel I've overlooked something."

"The Floo Network wasn't as legitimate in its early days," Little said with a meaningful look. Don't slander him — this was a matter of dignity! And as for the room's size: "Mistress Helga had her reasons. Salazar Slytherin and Rowena Ravenclaw weren't unskilled in spatial magic — they simply didn't need to expand."

"What was the need?"

"It's a dragon egg that hasn't hatched in five hundred years," Little sighed.