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Chapter 556: Effort Is Not Meaningless
Seeing Wade successfully divert Hermione’s attention, the others exchanged relieved smiles. Only Michael and Padma remained frowning, their brows furrowed in quiet contemplation.
Theo murmured to Liam, “After the Investigation, Hermione will know—Hogwarts’ House-elves are already the happiest little sprites. They don’t want to leave at all.”
Liam nodded in agreement. “Still, if change is to happen, it should be with families like the Malfoys—their approach is truly cruel.”
“The majority of families can’t do that,” Theo added. “My grandfather’s home has a little sprite too—we treat him like part of our family.”
“And sometimes,” Liam said, “House-elves punish themselves. They won’t stop unless their master gives the command.”
Liam nodded again.
Though his own home didn’t have a House-elf, Liam believed—based on the story of the Black Family Manor—that some wizards truly cared for their elves. Regulus Black had chosen death over harming Kreacher.
While Hermione was absorbed in her survey questionnaire, Padma and Michael quietly edged over to Wade’s table.
Michael pretended to be discussing something serious, propping up his books like a shield, and whispered, “Is my illusion, Wade? I can’t help but think you’ve actually considered freeing House-elves.”
“If you’d studied Muggle history,” Wade replied casually, “you’d know that the awakening of slave consciousness and resistance movements have lasted for millennia—from Spartacus’ revolt in ancient times to the abolitionist struggles of the modern era. It’s not hard to imagine the parallels.”
Padma leaned in, whispering, “So you’re actually supporting Hermione… just think her methods are wrong?”
She glanced at Michael. They exchanged a silent look.
Yes, Padma hated the idea of losing her House-elf’s service. But if Wade—someone they respected—thought Hermione was right… then perhaps they were the ones who were mistaken?
Friendship made them willing to endure discomfort, to stand by their friends’ ideals, even at great personal cost.
But Wade sighed, then shook his head.
“If I truly supported Hermione,” he said, “I’d tell her the real solution isn’t giving little sprites clothes or handing out paper questionnaires. Because we all know—she’ll never get the answer she wants.”
“What should be done?” Michael pressed.
This time, Wade didn’t answer. He simply gave a wry, helpless smile.
How to awaken the consciousness of the enslaved, to make them recognize their own oppression—history was full of successful precedents. But Hogwarts’ House-elves were not the right candidates for liberation. They lived comfortably. No one here beat or starved them. They weren’t forced to endure hunger or cruelty.
They were content. Satisfied. Unwilling to change.
It was only those like Dobby—whose living conditions were a nightmare of suffering—that Hermione should truly be fighting for.
To change a House-elf’s mind, one must guide them toward awakening, educate them on injustice, make them realize their rights were stripped away, their dignity trampled, their very survival and reproduction controlled and threatened by wizards.
They needed to speak their pain to others like them—share, support, and comfort each other. In communities of shared struggle, they could find the emotional strength, courage, and solidarity to fight for change.
Start small: let them choose their clothes, their food. Give them tiny freedoms. Then, let external events—disruptions, upheavals—shatter that control, forcing them to fight for their rights.
Give a few of them a chance to live in a truly safe environment—where they are loved, respected, treated as equals. Let them experience justice and fairness. Only then will they truly understand how painful their past was, and awaken the self-awareness of being a wise being.
But such change would be slow, painful, and inevitably come with war and sacrifice.
When House-elves truly awakened, the wizarding world would face disaster.
And the few with clear minds, capable of restraining hatred, were rare. The awakened elves might hate all human-like creatures—joining Centaurs, Werewolves, Giants, Goblins—in a war of vengeance against humanity.
Even if Wade personally rejected the idea of enslavement, he could never be the one to light the spark of magical war.
…
Over the next few days, Hermione stopped bothering Wade and the others with her “S.P.E.W.” campaign. Instead, she recruited a few sturdy Gryffindors to help her conduct surveys and tally results.
Several times, Wade returned to the dormitory at night and found Neville, Harry, Ron, and Hermione crawling out of the kitchen entrance, exhausted and covered in parchment.
Hermione had revised her questionnaire multiple times, chasing a better response—but her mood sank with each failure. She no longer wanted to talk to anyone.
The House-elves’ answers were always the same:
> “Amy isn’t tired. Amy loves her job! Amy is happy!”
> “Bad little sprites make mistakes. Good little sprites shouldn’t make mistakes—and if they do, they should punish themselves. That’s right.”
> “Oh, don’t mention Dobby. Dobby was a disgrace. He’s a shame to House-elves. He should feel ashamed.”
> “House-elves shouldn’t have children without a master’s permission. But Becky’s great-great-great-great-grandfather once served the great Godric Gryffindor!”
> “These thoughts are terrible! House-elves don’t need freedom. Hogwarts is our home! Rola… Rola loves this place! Rola never wants to leave!”
Only a few, trembling and fidgeting, whispered their desires—like guilty secrets.
> “Zoe… Zoe wants to buy a gift…” the little sprite said, twisting the edge of her tea towel with a horn. “Zoe can only give Wade things he finds outside. But a crystal ball from the shop would be better…”
> Another said, “If there were wages, I’d buy bad blood grass. Madam Pomfrey always says she doesn’t have enough…”
Ron grumbled, “I told you they like being slaves. Hermione just won’t admit it.”
“We’re treated like villains every time we go to the kitchen now!”
Hermione was devastated. She kept her frustration hidden, then turned to Wade with her data in hand.
“My work has meaning,” she said. “Maybe we should start small—like getting some funds for the school’s House-elves.”
“Why not?” Wade encouraged. “Go for it.”
Later that evening, after dinner, Hermione mustered her courage and sent a letter to Dumbledore.
The next day, when she returned to the kitchen, she was thrilled to find the funds had already arrived.
Hogwarts would now provide 10 Galleons per month to the kitchen—money the House-elves could use to buy what they needed. Most, however, were so disciplined they barely glanced at it.
“Hogwarts’ little sprites are extremely satisfied with their lives,” she said, “but there are so many others suffering outside.”
Her first attempt had succeeded. She was energized. “My next goal is to reduce, or even ban, the abuse of House-elves.”
“First,” Wade said, pouring cold water over her enthusiasm, “you’ll need the power to make laws—and the authority to punish those who break them.”
“Really?” Hermione asked, surprised. “There are laws already?”
Wade nodded. “There are.”
She wasn’t the first wizard to sympathize with House-elves.
Hermione bolted to the library, searching for books on the subject.
Wade admired her determination. Then, he idly twirled his feather quill, jotting down the plan for the next Time Spell Study Society meeting.
Time flew.
The following week, the schools competing in the Tournament would arrive at Hogwarts.
(End of Chapter)
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