The first weekend of the school year had arrived, and the Great Hall was alive with the easy chatter of students enjoying a slower morning. Long wooden tables were lined with trays of steaming breakfast foods—freshly baked rolls, golden-brown pastries, bowls of fruit—and goblets of juice reflected the early, pale light filtering through the enchanted ceiling. Clouds drifted lazily across the sky outside, casting a soft, silvery glow over the hall and giving the room a tranquil, almost sleepy atmosphere. Laughter and the clinking of cutlery mingled with the occasional murmur of a conversation, creating the hum of a school finally settling into its routine.
Hermione Granger stepped onto the dais at the head of the Gryffindor table, her arms full of neatly stacked papers and small, hand-painted badges. Her brow was furrowed with quiet determination, and though a few strands of hair had escaped sleep's hold, her posture remained straight and purposeful. Today, she intended to introduce her classmates to the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare—S.P.E.W.—and she was determined to see it succeed.
Behind her, Harry and Ron followed reluctantly, their expressions a mixture of annoyance and resignation. It was clear from the set of their jaws and the slight frown creasing Ron's forehead that neither of them was eager to be involved. Harry's hands were tucked into his pockets as if to keep them from trembling with impatience, while Ron's eyes darted to the ceiling, the table, anywhere but Hermione. Yet they moved with her, silently acknowledging that helping was not optional.
"Morning," Hermione said softly, then raised her voice just enough to carry across the hall. "I have something to show you all. It's…..well, it's a society I've started. The purpose is to improve the lives of the house-elves at Hogwarts and elsewhere. I've prepared memos explaining our goals and badges for anyone willing to help."
A few heads turned, some curious, some skeptical. Hermione began distributing the papers and badges, moving systematically down the Gryffindor table first. Each student received the sheet with her instructions carefully explained.
"Please read carefully," Hermione said, her voice growing more animated as she spoke. "Elves are not slaves; they should be treated with respect. Their working conditions are harsh, and they have no say in their lives. We'll meet weekly to discuss ways to help them. It doesn't take much—small kindnesses, asking what they need, advocating for their rights. That's all we ask."
A Gryffindor student took the paper and badge with a neutral expression, merely nodding. "Right, sure, Hermione," she said casually, as if it were just another one of her projects.
Ron leaned closer, lowering his voice to a near whisper. "Hermione… what you're doing is insane. Don't—don't go through with this. It's wrong. You're completely going against the traditions of the Wizarding World."
Hermione ignored him, her gaze moving along the tables, speaking faster now, trying to convince the students of the urgency.
Some students took the memo and badge politely but barely glanced at them before turning their attention back to breakfast. Lavender Brown giggled to her friend, pushing the paper aside. "Honestly, who cares about elves?" she whispered, smirking. Parvati nodded, twirling a lock of her hair, clearly uninterested.
Other students, like Neville Longbottom, listened attentively, nodding and clutching the memo, clearly inspired. Seamus Finnigan raised an eyebrow, muttering to Dean Thomas, "I dunno… sounds a bit mad, doesn't it?" but still accepted the badge.
Ron groaned again, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Honestly, Hermione… no one's going to care. They're just going to ignore you."
Hermione pressed her lips together, steadying herself, and then spoke, her words tumbling out with growing urgency. "Even if only a few of you take this seriously, it can make a difference. Change always starts somewhere—even if it's small. We can give the elves voices they've never had before. And yes," she shot a quick glance at Ron, who looked like he might burst, "sometimes doing what's right feels uncomfortable. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't do it. That's exactly it! They aren't property, Ron! They're living, thinking beings who deserve respect—dignity! Just because—"
Her words were cut off as a ripple of laughter broke from the Slytherin table across the hall. Draco Malfoy leaned back in his chair, a smirk spreading across his pale face, his silver-blond hair perfectly in place. Behind him, other Slytherins snickered openly.
"Did I hear that right?" Draco said loudly enough for most of the hall to hear, his tone dripping with mockery but holding back full venom. "The little muggle wants to make our house-elves equal to us? How… ambitious. Our servants, equal to someone like us?" He tilted his head, smirking as if the idea alone was laughable.
A senior Slytherin, tall with sharp, calculating eyes, leaned forward, his voice a hiss of pure malice. "As if it weren't enough that we've tolerated the Mudbloods," he sneered. "And now—after barely three years in our world—she has the audacity to teach us? To claim our servants should be equal to us? Absolutely pathetic! That's why we should have never let these filthy Mudbloods step foot in the Wizarding World. You think you're clever, little Mudblood, but you're nothing. Just a nuisance, a stain on what is rightfully ours."
He paused, letting the words sink in, eyes glinting with cruel satisfaction. "The sooner you learn your place, the better—before we remind you, properly."
Draco's smirk tightened slightly, uncomfortable with the raw venom in his tone, but he added, his voice calm yet pointed, "Yes, let's hope she learns quickly. We wouldn't want her to make even more trouble than she already has."
Hermione froze, gripping the stack of papers tightly, but she did not flinch. Her eyes swept across the room, briefly landing on Eira White, who sat at the Slytherin table. Eira's expression was calm, almost amused, with a faint smile tugging at her lips. She raised a hand slightly in Hermione's direction, a subtle gesture as Hermione depicted it as a gesture of encouragement.
Hermione's voice rose, firm and clear. "House-elves have feelings, intelligence, and rights! They are not here to be mocked or used for our convenience. You may laugh, but you are being cruel. Cruel, and you should be ashamed!"
The laughter, rather than diminishing, grew louder. Some Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws whispered among themselves, exchanging uncertain glances. Not everyone was ready to join her cause, but Hermione's fiery spirit had caught their attention.
Draco leaned forward, his smirk stretching wider than ever. "And what about you, Potter?" he drawled, voice dripping with venom. "Joining in with the little elf crusade, are we? The Boy Who-Lives-To-Liberate-House-Elves? How noble of you. Really, saving house-elves is quite… heroic. Very fitting."
He let out a sharp, mocking laugh and flicked his gaze toward Ron. "And you, Weasley… perhaps you should focus on, I don't know, feeding your family first? I hear they're… a bit short on Galleons. Maybe you could start by liberating some bread for your household before you start freeing magical servants you don't even employ."
Harry's jaw tightened, his hands balling into fists. "You think that's clever, Malfoy? You've got no idea what you're talking about!"
"Oh, spare me, Potter!" Draco interrupted, laughing. "You think wearing a badge makes you a hero? The Boy Who-Saves-Elves, coming to rescue the poor little creatures from their masters while you can barely keep a Snitch in the air."
Ron's face turned red, and his fists clenched at his sides. "That's it! I've had enough of you, Malfoy! Don't you dare talk about my family!"
Draco's smirk widened. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of it… except your little friend here, Potter, seems to have caught the same bug. What now, eh? Do you want to be known as Potter, the elf-liberator? Perhaps you'll earn a medal—'For Services to Magical Servitude.' Very prestigious."
Harry stepped forward, voice sharp and full of anger. "You think this is funny, Malfoy? We're not going to sit here and take your insults. You've gone too far this time!"
Draco leaned in closer, voice low and taunting. "Oh, I understand perfectly, Potter. You're desperate to feel heroic, aren't you? And look at your little friend here—pretending to be your conscience while his family's cupboards are probably empty. I do hope someone feeds him before he collapses from heroism."
Ron snapped, his temper flaring explosively. "I said that's enough! I'm not letting you insult my family, my friends, or anyone else! You're impossible, Malfoy!"
Harry stepped up beside him, chest heaving. "Yeah, we're not scared of you! You're just a coward hiding behind your family name!"