Hogwarts' Golden Glory

Ron remained silent.

He looked at Hermione's expression, as if to confirm whether she had truly made up her mind: "Do you think Dumbledore has time to read ten pages of proposals about house-elves?"

"He'll be free. I'll make sure he is."

Ron didn't say anything more and continued eating his steak.

Hermione took out her quill and began to write a letter.

Kane sat at a long table not far away, with Igor perched on his shoulder, his silver eyes looking in Hermione's direction.

She was writing rapidly, as if she wanted to write down all the thoughts of the day.

He looked at it for a while, then lowered his head and continued eating his dinner.

"What are you looking at?" Draco asked, sitting next to him.

"It's nothing," Kane said.

Draco followed his gaze and looked in Hermione's direction: "The house-elf thing?"

"...You know that?"

"It's all over Slytherin," Draco said. "Miss Granger had a fight with the Weasleys in the common room today, saying she wanted to free the house-elves at Hogwarts."

"...She was very energetic."

"Brother, don't you really have any feelings for her?"

Kane did not answer.

He was silent for a moment, then said, "Go and help me get the book on house-elves from the library."

"What?"

"The Legal History of Wizards and House-Elves"

"Didn't you say you didn't support her?"

Kane looked up, his gray eyes expressionless: "I didn't say I didn't support it."

-----------------

Hermione stood in the kitchen doorway for a long time.

She clutched the stack of parchment in her hand, squeezing it tightly several times before finally mustering the courage to push open the door.

The warm steam wafted onto my face, carrying the aroma of freshly baked bread and stew. The little elves were still busy, some chopping vegetables, some stirring the pot, and some taking freshly baked pies out of the baking pan.

Millie was the first to see her, her high-pitched voice tinged with laughter: "Miss Granger is here again! What would you like to eat today? Millie tried a new recipe yesterday—"

"Millie," Hermione took a deep breath, "I have something to say to you."

Millie tilted her head, looking at the parchment in her hand: "Miss Granger brought a new book?"

“It’s not a book.” Hermione walked over and stood in the middle of the kitchen, where all the house-elves looked up at her. “It’s a proposal.”

She said, "About your future."

There was a moment of silence in the kitchen. Then, a little elf wearing a worn-out teacup sleeve put down his spoon and walked towards her: "What does Miss Granger want to say?"

Hermione unfolded the parchment, her voice as steady as possible: "I spent three days compiling statistics on the work of the 107 house-elves at Hogwarts. According to the Twelfth Amendment to the Magical Creatures Protection Act—a mentally sound magical creature shall possess—"

She was halfway through her reading when she felt all eyes on her. The silence was different from usual. She looked up and saw that all the little elves had stopped what they were doing and were staring at her. "...possessing basic working rights."

Hermione continued, "Including but not limited to wages, holidays, rest time, and work options."

silence.

The kitchen was quieter than ever, as if something was suspended in mid-air, yet to fall.

Then Millie spoke up: "Miss Granger... what is salary?"

Hermione looked down at her: "Wages are money. You work every week and get paid. You can use that money to buy whatever you want."

"……money?"

Millie repeated the word, her expression as if she were hearing it for the first time, "Millie doesn't need money. Millie doesn't need to buy anything."

"What about holidays?"

Hermione said, "If you're tired, you can rest. You don't have to work from morning till night. You can go out for a walk and see the towers you want to see—"

"The tower?" Millie's voice suddenly became urgent. "Millie said she wanted to go see the tower, but Millie doesn't want to rest!"

The other sprites began to whisper among themselves, as if touched by the word "vacation".

An older elf took two steps forward.

Its tea towel was older than the others, with frayed edges; its ears drooped to its shoulders; its voice was low and slow: "Miss Granger. We're doing what we have to do. We haven't thought of anything else."

“That’s the problem,” Hermione said. “You never think about anything else. You’ve been trained to only do what you’re doing now, so you think you don’t need anything else.”

The old elf stared at her for a long time: "Miss Granger, do you think we are suffering?"

"I think you deserve more."

"More than what?" The old elf's voice grew louder. "Miss Granger said we don't know what we want. Does Miss Granger know what we want?"

Hermione opened her mouth, only to find herself stumped by the question.

She prepared a lot of information, but she hadn't thought about how to respond if it said "no".

"Millie doesn't need a salary," Millie suddenly spoke, her voice high-pitched and clear. "Millie doesn't need holidays. Millie is happy working at Hogwarts. Millie doesn't want to be a laborer."

The word "worker" seemed to have triggered some kind of switch.

The little kitchen sprites began to stir, their whispers rising like a tide. "The workers..."

"They want us to become workers..."

"Like humans..."

"Like those locked inside houses..."

Hermione stood there, still holding the stack of parchment in her hand.

She opened her mouth, wanting to explain, but her voice was drowned out. Millie took a step back.

It wasn't fear, it was wariness—as if they had seen something they shouldn't be near.

"Miss Granger."

Its voice was colder than before, carrying a clear sense of estrangement, "Millie doesn't want to hear any more of this."

Hermione clenched the parchment tightly. "Millie—"

"Please leave."

Hermione was stunned.

She had never heard Millie speak in that tone before—not anger, but rejection. A rejection devoid of any emotion, as crisp as slamming a door shut.

"I just want you to—"

"We don't need you to do anything for us."

The old elf spoke slowly, enunciating each word clearly, "We are very happy at Hogwarts. We hope Miss Granger... will not say those things again."

Hermione stood there, feeling as if she were being pushed backward by an invisible wall.

She clutched the stack of parchment until her knuckles turned white, but she didn't say another word. She turned and walked towards the door, her fingertips trembling as her hand touched the doorknob.

The door closed behind her. She stood in the corridor, leaning against the wall, looking down at the parchment in her hand. It had taken her three days to write.

It's like a key, but nobody wants it.

She rolled it up, put it in her pocket, and went back to the Gryffindor common room. When she entered, Ron was playing chess with Harry.