0487 Stubborn

Hagrid's words not only surprised Harry and Ron but also made Hermione frown. She realized once again that adult wizards' perspectives differed from those of young wizards.

For weeks now, Hermione had been focused on how to rescue house-elves from what she perceived as their miserable circumstances. Her mind had been filled with visions of liberated elves, living dignified lives free from servitude. However, she hadn't fully considered the deeply ingrained attitudes of the many wizards and witches who had grown accustomed to using house-elves in their daily lives.

Ron's casual mention of his mother's long-held desire for a house-elf suddenly took on new significance. Mrs. Weasley was undoubtedly a kind and good-hearted person. If even she held such views on house-elf ownership, Hermione could only imagine – with a shudder – the likely reaction of wizards like the cruel and arrogant Lucius Malfoy to any notion of liberating these magical creatures.

"But Professor Watson promised me," Hermione said, her voice taking on a stubborn edge as she clung to this ray of hope, "that if the elves agree, he's willing to give them wages and various holidays—"

As the words left her mouth, she suddenly realized just how accommodating and broadminded Professor Watson had truly been in accepting her ideas. A deep frown etched itself across her features as she unconsciously folded her arms tightly across her chest, her mind racing to formulate arguments that might persuade the wider wizarding community beyond the relatively liberal Hogwarts. As she pondered, she barely noticed Fréodom, the small house-elf, sliding off her lap and tiptoeing quietly across the rough wooden floor of Hagrid's hut.

Hagrid's beetle-black eyes softened with sympathy as he gazed at Hermione. He leaned forward in his enormous armchair, which creaked under his weight, and said gently but firmly, "You can't expect everyone to be like Professor Watson and Headmaster Dumbledore, Hermione." His words cut straight to the heart of the matter, making Hermione's shoulders slump slightly. "How many people can be as noble as them? And even taking Professor Watson's requirements,"

Hagrid continued, his tone growing more serious as he stroked his wild, tangled beard, "You let house-elves get paid, but what will they do with the money? No wizard will sell things to house-elves – it's just not done. The Galleons they earn through hard work will just attract the attention of some bad folks, mark my words. You don't expect the Ministry of Magic to stand up for them, do you?"

"Impossible!" Harry interjected forcefully, his green eyes flashing with indignation behind his round glasses. The memory of recent events was still fresh in his mind as he added, "During the Quidditch World Cup finals, the Ministry wouldn't even let Remus sit in the best seats. They even sent Aurors to watch over him and others like him, treating them like criminals!"

"Yeah—" Hagrid's lips curled into a smile, but none of the three young Gryffindors noticed the underlying bitterness that tinged his expression.

"So, you see, Hermione," Hagrid continued, his voice a low rumble, "this whole situation isn't as simple as you think. Now, let's talk about the holidays you mentioned. That's another thing that's just not realistic. Holidays aren't something house-elves look forward to like we do. They're born to take care of people; it's in their very nature. They like it that way, understand? If you don't let them work, they'll feel sad, lost even. And as for paying them wages? Well, most elves will take it as an insult to them."

Hermione, her mind whirling with counter-arguments, immediately seized upon a memory. "But I heard that when Harry freed Dobby," she retorted, her voice rising with passion, "Dobby was absolutely overjoyed!!"

"Yeah, yeah," Hagrid nodded, a hint of amusement coloring his tone. "There's always gonna be a few oddballs in every species, ain't there? I'm not denyin' that yeh might find a handful of peculiar elves who fancy the idea of freedom. But convincin' the vast majority of elves ter fight for somethin' they don't even want? That's a fool's errand, Hermione. It's just not gonna happen, no matter how noble yer intentions might be."

Suddenly, Hagrid's demeanor shifted, his eyes crinkling with delight as he gestured towards his cluttered kitchen area. "Just look at this little fella over here! He's already makin' himself happy!"

Hermione's head whipped around, her bushy hair flying, as she cast a startled glance towards the kitchen. To her dismay, she discovered that Fréodom had sneaked away while she was engrossed in the heated discussion. The tiny elf was now enthusiastically assisting Hagrid, having already quietly scrubbed Hagrid's enormous, basin-sized bowl until it gleamed in the firelight. Currently, the eager elf was vigorously wiping down Hagrid's massive, perpetually greasy black stove, its frail arms working tirelessly.

"Stop, Fréodom!" Hermione shouted, her voice sharp with frustration and anger. The sudden outburst caused Fréodom to jump in fright, the cleaning cloth slipping from its long-fingered hands and falling to the floor with a soft plop.

As Hermione rushed over, her face flushed with a mix of emotions, Hagrid tilted his shaggy head back, his eyes roaming around the cluttered interior of his one-room home. With a note of wistful regret in his voice, he said, "Ter tell yeh the truth, I could really do with a house-elf 'round here ter help keep things tidy. Why, just the other day, Professor Moody dropped by ter offer his services in patrollin' the Forbidden Forest for me. Nice of him, really. But he also suggested, in that gruff way of his, that I might want ter consider givin' the place a bit of a spruce up—"

Fréodom, its large, tennis ball-sized eyes brimming with a mixture of confusion and distress, looked pleadingly at the visibly annoyed Hermione. The elf's high-pitched, squeaky voice quavered as it explained, "Fréodom only wishes to help clean the house for Mistress Granger's friend—"

The elf's bat-like ears drooped sadly, as if it had been suddenly interrupted from partaking in a wonderful pleasure.

Hagrid raised his bushy eyebrows but remained silent, his dark eyes moving between the frustrated Hermione and the crestfallen house-elf. Hermione, who had clearly realized the thorny nature of the situation she found herself in, sat down heavily on a nearby wooden bench. She folded her arms tightly across her chest, her lips pressed into a thin line as she struggled to reconcile her ideals with the reality before her.

To be perfectly honest, Harry didn't much want to be dragged further into this troublesome affair. He hunched his shoulders and remained silent, hoping to avoid drawing attention to himself. But suddenly, a streak of vivid blue light flashed outside the window, which was as dark as the depths of an abyss on this moonless night.

Harry's emerald eyes widened in surprise, and just as he was pondering what that mysterious light could possibly be, Ron, in a misguided attempt to diffuse the situation, piped up with what he clearly thought was a helpful suggestion. "I reckon my mum would be more than willin' to take it in, Hermione, if you're looking for a good home—"

"Absolutely not, Ronald Weasley!" Hermione exploded, her patience finally snapping like a stretched rubber band. Her eyes flashed dangerously as she rounded on Ron. "I'd rather leave it here with Hagrid. At least then I can keep an eye on it and make sure it's not mistreated!"

Hermione's chest heaved violently as she looked around the cramped hut, her gaze sweeping over the silent Hagrid, the slobbering boarhound Fang, and Harry and Ron, who were both visibly shrinking away from her outburst.

Finally, her eyes came to rest on the nervous little Fréodom, who was wringing its hands anxiously. Suddenly, a wave of sadness washed over Hermione, She felt utterly isolated and helpless. But if even her closest friends wouldn't support her in this crucial mission, who else could she possibly turn to for help?

The silence in Hagrid's hut grew thick and oppressive, broken only by the occasional crackle of the fire and Fang's heavy breathing. The tension was palpable, seeming to press down on all of them like a physical weight. Then, without warning, Hermione's voice rang out, shattering the awkward quiet.

"Fine, I've made my decision!!" she declared, her tone laced with determination and a hint of desperation. "I'm going to establish a Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, and every single one of you is going to be a founding member of this organization whether you like it or not!"

"What in the bloody hell?!" Ron's exclamation of disbelief burst forth involuntarily. "I never agreed to any of this madness!"

But Hermione was not to be deterred. If anything, Ron's protest only seemed to fuel her passion further. "Our immediate goals are!!!" she continued, raising her voice even louder to drown out any further objections from Ron or anyone else who might dare to challenge her vision. Her normally warm brown eyes now blazed with an almost supernatural intensity, the pure orange-yellow of her pupils flickering like twin flames of righteousness. When she spoke again, it was in a tone that brooked absolutely no argument or refusal.

"First and foremost, we must focus on recruiting more members into our organization. We need to build a strong, unified voice for change. Then, we'll turn our attention to persuading the house-elves right here at Hogwarts to accept fair wages and reasonable holidays. I'll personally go to Professor Watson and hold him to his promise. This will be our testing ground, where we can gain valuable experience and refine our methods. Once we've achieved success here, we'll use that as a springboard to spread our message throughout the entire wizarding world!"

Hermione paused for breath, her eyes sweeping across the room to gauge the reactions of her audience.

"But that's just the beginning! Our ultimate goal – and mark my words, we will achieve this – is to compel the Ministry of Magic to enact comprehensive legislation protecting the rights of house-elves. We won't rest until every last house-elf in Britain is afforded the dignity, respect, and legal protections they so richly deserve!"

As Hermione's impassioned speech came to an end, the expressions on the faces of Hagrid, Harry, and Ron made it abundantly clear that they thought she had well and truly lost her mind.

In the end, after much debate and consideration on Hermione's part, she eventually decided to leave Fréodom with Hagrid, the only person she truly trusted and who could provide her with the help she needed. In the previous school year, when Ron had mistakenly believed that Crookshanks, had killed his rat, Scabbers, she had also entrusted her pet to Hagrid's care for a time. It had been a desperate measure to prevent her friendship with Ron from completely disintegrating, and now she found herself in a similar position.

However, she also set strict rules for both Hagrid and Fréodom. Her voice was firm as she laid out her conditions: she wouldn't allow Hagrid to order Fréodom around like a servant, nor would she permit Fréodom to do anything other than play and relax while at Hagrid's hut. She told them that she would try to come here every day to teach Fréodom the 'correct outlook on life.'

As the trio made their way back to the castle under the cover of Harry's Invisibility Cloak, Hermione's mind was already racing ahead to her next steps. "I need to get started on creating the official guidelines and a specific action plan for our society right away," she muttered, her words tumbling out in an excited rush. "We'll need to have some sort of striking, eye-catching emblem or badge to distinguish our members from those who are still waiting to be persuaded to join our cause. After all, we might end up with a significant number of members very quickly—"

Ron made a strange coughing sound that sounded suspiciously like poorly disguised mockery, but Hermione either didn't notice or chose to ignore it.

"Harry," she continued, undeterred, "next Wednesday, we need to promote this during Professor Watson's physical education class. Professor Watson has already expressed his support for us." Her tone was confident, brooking no argument.

Harry bit his lip, really wanting to remind Hermione how angry she had been with Professor Watson earlier today, and that the professor hadn't actually agreed to anything she was now proposing. However, he held his tongue, knowing that in her current state of excitement, any attempt at reason would likely fall on deaf ears.

The three of them walked quickly through the grounds into the shadow cast by Hogwarts Castle, their feet making soft squelching sounds on the damp grass. Harry and Ron were walking particularly fast, clearly eager to get away from Hermione and her impassioned planning as soon as possible.

As they climbed the worn stone steps outside the castle's imposing main doors, the soft glow of torchlight spilling out from within, Harry nearly tripped due to his hasty steps. His foot caught on the edge of a step, and he stumbled, barely managing to catch himself before falling.

"Oh, do watch your step there, Potter—"A hoarse, deep voice suddenly cut through the night air, coming from behind the massive, closed doors. In the quiet of the evening, this unexpected sound was like a thunderclap, stunning the three of them into immobility.

'We're done for—' This panicked thought simultaneously arose in the minds of Harry, Ron, and Hermione as Professor Moody's limping figure stepped into the moonlight.

"That's a mighty fine Invisibility Cloak you've got there, whose is it?" Moody's both normal eye and his vivid blue magical eye were focused closely on the spot where the three of them stood frozen, leaving Harry with no hope of slipping away undetected. With a sinking feeling, he realized that he had encountered the third wizard who could see through his Invisibility Cloak.

"It's mine, sir—" Harry said, his voice barely above a whisper as he voluntarily pulled down the shimmering fabric. The three young wizards stood obediently outside the door like a trio of quails caught in the gaze of a hawk, enduring Moody's penetrating scrutiny.

"Normally," Moody began, his scarred face unreadable in the shadows, "shouldn't you be explaining to me why you're wandering around the castle grounds at bedtime?" Unexpectedly, there wasn't much anger in Professor Moody's voice, which gave Harry a glimmer of hope that they might yet escape punishment.

"It's my fault, Professor Moody—" Hermione stepped forward with a flushed face, no longer speaking in an overbearing tone. Lowering her gaze to avoid Moody's intense stare, she fabricated an explanation on the spot. "I had an urgent question about Blast-Ended Skrewts that I simply had to ask Hagrid. Harry and Ron were worried I might encounter danger if I went alone at night, so they insisted on accompanying me—"

Harry and Ron both frowned, their faces a picture of confusion as they opened their mouths to refute Hermione's creative explanation. However, before they could utter a word, Hermione swiftly and secretly pinched the soft flesh at their waists making them hiss in pain.

"I see—" Moody's gruff voice was tinged with an odd note of amusement as he continued to stare at Hermione's face, "And you also brought a gift for Hagrid, didn't you, Miss Granger? I must admit, you're quite a noble young witch—"

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