Dumbledore stood up suddenly, and after only a few steps, he gasped violently, and he hurriedly stepped forward to support him. Pen Fun Pavilion wWw. ｂiquge。 Info Fox chirped in concern, and Phoenix felt his fingers touch some kind of hard, cold object, not at all like a human arm.

"How many do you think?" Dumbledore signaled that he could do it himself, holding on to the shelf himself, moving slowly.

Phoenix looked down and combed through it, and said, "Six or seven." ”

"Which ones?"

"His diary when he was sixteen, a locket box belonging to the Gaunt family, a mug for which I don't know the exact details and if it's a Horcrux, a Peverell ring, a Horcrux at Hogwarts, Voldemort's own soul plus the unconventional Horcrux. ”

"I think from Voldemort's side, it's six, and he didn't know he had inadvertently created another Horcrux that night. If he were after the particular number 'seven', then he would have one. ”

"Maybe so. Phoenix scratched his forehead with his little finger, "Are you sure the cup is a Horcrux—"

"I think if it's a cup, it's probably likely," Dumbledore stood in front of a tree-like wooden cabinet full of crystal bottles, filled with milky white stuff.

"A memory I got in my early years, do you want to see it together?"

Phoenix shrugged.

Dumbledore tapped lightly on the cabinet, and a meditation basin popped out, and a stand spread out underneath to support it.

"When Voldemort graduated and went to Borgin Burke, all the faculty members who admired him said it was a pity that such a talented young wizard went to become a clerk. But Voldemort wasn't just a clerk. Because he was polite, handsome and intelligent, he soon got a special job that only a place like Borgin Bock. You know, Phoenix, this store specializes in items with specific properties. Voldemort was sent to convince others to give the treasure to the shop for sale, and it is said that he was particularly adept at it. ”

"I believe it. Phoenix said, looking at the swirling memory in the basin, "Looks like you've noticed it a long time ago." ”

"Just hoping to know what he'd been doing all those years away, before I realized he had a Horcrux. It wasn't until you showed me that diary in second grade that I knew for sure - and realized the preciousness of this memory. ”

Dumbledore said with a slight smile feebly, "It's time to listen to the memories of the house-elf Hawkie, who was owned by a very old, very wealthy witch named Hepzibah Smith. ”

Phoenix tumbled and fell into the dark void and landed in a living room, where he saw a very fat old lady wearing a delicate ginger wig and a bright pink robe spread out around her, making her look like a piece of melted ice cream cake. She was facing a small jeweled mirror and using a large puff to apply rouge to her already bright red cheeks.

"I traced that she bought the locket back then, but I didn't expect her to still have it. Phoenix sighed, "But the people who witnessed this memory have passed away, right?"

"One was assassinated, the other was framed. Dumbledore sighed.

This is Hepziba speaking.

"Hurry up, Hao Qi! He said four o'clock, only two minutes away, and he was never late. ”

She put away the puff. The house-elf straightened up, her head reaching Hepziba's cushion, her paper-like skin hanging from her skeleton like the fine linen robe she wore over her.

"How am I?" Hepzibah asked, turning his head to admire her face in the mirror from all angles.

"Beautiful, ma'am. Hao Qi screamed.

To Phoenix, Hepzibah Smith looked like a bunch of soft cushions piled up on a hill, but the house-elves would only compliment their masters.

"Good fellow, I've heard that the female descendants of Hufflepuff were pretty good-looking. ”

"The consequences of consanguineous marriages—" Dumbledore said, interrupted by a doorbell.

Both the hostess and the elves jumped.

"Quick, quick, he's coming, Haoqi!" Hepzibah cried, and the elf ran out of the house. The room was so crowded that it was hard to imagine anyone who could walk through the room without knocking over at least a dozen things. Cabinets with lacquered lockets, bookshelves lined with gilded books, shelves with large and small stars and astrographs, and many lush plants growing in bronze vessels. The room looks like a patchwork of a magic antique shop and a greenhouse.

The elf returned a moment later, followed by a tall young man in a black suit, with his hair a little longer than he had been to school, and his cheeks sunken, but these suited him well.

Carefully walked through the crowded room, as if he had been there many times, and then bent down lowly, and touched Hepziba's chubby hand lightly with his lips.

"I brought you flowers. He whispered, conjuring a bouquet of roses in his hand.

"You naughty boy, you shouldn't be!" screamed old Hepziba, but Phoenix noticed that she had prepared an empty vase on a small table next to her, "you spoil me as an old lady, Tom-sit down, sit down--where is Haoki-ah-"

The house-elf rushed into the house with a plate of small pastries and laid the plate beside the hostess's elbow.

"Eat whatever you want, Tom," said Hepziba, "I know you love my pastries. How are you? The store used you too hard, I've said it a hundred times—"

Hepzibah giggled, and Voldemort smiled mechanically.

"Hey, what's the excuse for coming to see me this time?" she asked, blinking her eyelashes.

"That goblin armor, Mr. Bock wanted to pay a higher price, five hundred Galleons, he thinks it's fair enough-"

"Oh, oh, don't be in such a hurry, or I'll think you're only here for my stuff!" Hepzibah said, pouting.

"I was sent for them. Voldemort whispered, "I'm just a little clerk, ma'am, and I can only do what people tell me." Mr. Bock wants me to ask—"

"Oh, Mr. Bock, phew!" said Hepziba, waving his hand, "I'm going to show you something that Mr. Bock has never seen before! Can you keep it a secret, Tom? Can you promise not to tell Mr. Bock that I have this, and if he had known that I had shown you, he would never let me live in peace." I don't sell this, I won't sell it to Bock, I won't sell it to anyone! But you, Tom, you'll appreciate its history, and not just think about how many Galleons you'll make—"

"I'd love to see anything that Miss Hepziba showed me. Voldemort whispered, and Hepzibah giggled like a little girl again.

"I'll let Hadge take it out—where are you, Hadge—I'm going to show Mr. Riddle our best treasure—just bring both—"

"Here it is, ma'am. The house-elf shrieked, two leather boxes stacked on top of each other, as if they were floating over of their own accord, and he knew it was because the little elf was carrying them through the table, the chaise longue, and the cushions.

"Well," said Hepziba cheerfully, taking the box from the elf's hand, resting it on his lap, ready to open the one on it, "I think you'll like it, Tom—oh, if my relatives know I've shown you it—they'll come and snatch it at once!"

She opened the lid. Phoenix couldn't wait to lean forward, and saw that it looked like a small golden cup with two delicate ear handles.

"Do you know what this is, Tom?" said Hepzibah softly. Voldemort stretched out his slender fingers and pinched the handle of one ear and lifted the cup from the soft satin padding.

"Badger. Voldemort recognized the carving on the cup and muttered, "This is—"

"Helga Hufflepuff, you're very good, clever boy!" Hepzibah said, leaning over and squeezing his sunken cheeks, his corset creaking loudly, "Didn't I tell you I was a distant Hufflepuff descendant? This has been in my family for years. It's beautiful, isn't it? It says there's all kinds of magic, but I haven't tried it much, I'm just keeping it here-"

She hooked the cup back from Voldemort's lanky index finger and focused on putting it back in its place.

Phoenix was reluctant to stand up straight. It's still not certain that it's the cup that was in Bella's vault, but it's likely, very likely.

"Let's get out. Dumbledore whispered. (To be continued.) )