Even though Phineas understood how valuable the study of runes could be—essential for certain kinds of magic and fundamental to the art of alchemy—he still hadn't studied them.
Why? Because he had no clear path forward. Like much of the magical world, this branch of knowledge had suffered from centuries of broken inheritance.
Somewhere along the way, magical learning had fractured. Though the gap wasn't especially long in terms of history, the damage it caused was significant. Entire branches of ancient magic were lost, including powerful war magic. What remained—rune scripts and obscure rituals—had become cryptic, incomplete, and impossible to decipher without guidance.
That was why Phineas hadn't learned runes. Yet his earlier actions—summoning Puff and flipping the shelf—made it look as though he had. At the very least, it appeared he didn't need to ask anyone what the runes meant or how to trigger them.
Of course, Puff, still considered a young house-elf, knew nothing about runes. Phineas had only asked to distract her and stop her from punishing herself for not knowing.
What really drew his focus was the sealed groove in the wall.
The markings around it were clearly magical—part of a ritual array—and the groove itself was undoubtedly meant for a key. But he had no idea what that key looked like or where it could be found.
"Puff, search the room. Look for anything that might match this groove, or give us a clue," Phineas instructed, settling into a worn but comfortable chair.
After everything he'd gone through today, he needed sleep. He didn't have to return to the Slytherin dormitory—thankfully—but he still needed rest.
He hadn't expected the mystery of a hidden shelf and a wall to take up his entire day. Still, in a way, it worked to his advantage. His absence was probably giving some Slytherins hope that he'd been killed. The thought made him smirk as he drifted off.
Puff began tidying the lab with quiet efficiency. House-elves were bound by their own rules, and disturbing a sleeping master was unthinkable.
Under her silent commands, items floated gently through the air. Clutter vanished. Cabinets, drawers, and tables were emptied and reorganized. Scraps of failed experiments were gathered in a pile that resembled a magical junkyard.
It was unclear how much time had passed before Phineas awoke.
The alchemy lab was transformed.
Broken cabinets and worn tables had been stacked neatly in a corner. The main experiment table was now cleared and surrounded by working alchemical tools—crucibles, carving knives, test tubes, even a proper rune-engraving desk.
Discarded alchemical attempts were grouped into one corner, while useful items were set aside nearby, clean and accessible.
"Puff, did you find anything?" he asked, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
Puff appeared at once, holding a dinner tray. "Master, this is your meal. Also, while cleaning, Puff found a small box with markings similar to the ones on the wall."
Phineas took the tray—sliced roast, potatoes, and buttered bread—and began to eat as he examined the box.
It was plain but engraved with patterns matching those around the groove. One section even seemed designed to fit it perfectly.
The box had no lock. It opened easily.
Inside, there were no magical objects—just a folded piece of parchment.
A blueprint.
It depicted a ring, and etched on the ring was the same pattern from the wall. There were notes written around it—explaining its magical functions and the runes required to enchant it. It didn't include step-by-step instructions for crafting it, but it was essentially a set of design plans.
Phineas narrowed his eyes. Ravenclaw's method for choosing her successor, then, wasn't a riddle or puzzle—it was alchemy.
The ring was an artifact. Likely a symbol of inheritance. And clearly, someone had to forge it to advance further.
Strangely, the design of the ring felt familiar.
Too familiar.
Where had he seen it before?
It wasn't something ancient and forgotten—it was recent. He was sure someone close to him had worn that ring.
But who?
He shook his head. No time to dwell on that now.
He handed the blueprint to Puff. "Place a copying restriction charm on this. Then go to Kreacher. Tell him to find someone who can craft the item."
Puff nodded, vanishing without a word.
Phineas leaned back and smiled.
Ravenclaw would never have imagined her legacy being unlocked like this. No need for years of study, no need for mastery of ancient runes.
Just Galleons. Enough Galleons, and the right connections, could replace talent and tradition.
Just as he'd bypassed the enchanted shelf using Puff, now he would bypass the test of alchemical skill.
And as for forging the ring—Phineas had already decided whom to ask.
Alchemists were rare in the modern wizarding world. Even this simple ring was beyond the reach of most.
But Phineas knew someone.
Or rather, someone descended from someone.
Ignatia Wildsmith—creator of Floo Powder.
Though she'd lived centuries ago, many believed she was still alive. After all, Floo Powder still worked perfectly, as if maintained by her hand.
The world believed her family line had ended.
It hadn't.
She had descendants—hidden ones. And they were part of the Black family.
Phineas's family.
This obscure branch of the Blacks didn't attend Hogwarts or skuller. They studied in secret, guided by family tradition. They were poor with everyday magic—but masters of alchemy.
And that was exactly what he needed.