Hermione vividly described the chaotic scene in the kitchen, which had been "flooded" by little pink.
She recounted how the slimy, spreading pink "fungal mat" tripped the busy House-elves and forced the entire kitchen to shut down.
Her voice carried a hint of lingering fear and disbelief.
Draco, holding the cool, slightly squirming pink trinket in his hand, frowned deeply.
He simply couldn't connect this tiny object with the disaster Hermione described.
Harry's thoughts, however, were firmly caught by another word: "What exactly is a House-elf?"
"House-elves?" Draco seemed to have hit a familiar switch, and a trace of the pure-blood lord's characteristic pride instantly appeared on his face.
"They are the most perfect servants for Wizards, Potter. They can not only manage daily life but even handle some basic affairs." He slightly raised his chin, "My Dobby often helps my father organize documents."
Neville also nodded, his voice tinged with nostalgia: "When I was little and my grandmother was busy, the House-elf Bink at home always looked after me. He often took me to play in the garden."
Ron scratched his red hair, looking a bit awkward: "My family… well… can't afford House-elves."
Draco showed a surprised expression upon hearing this: "Weasley, your family should have lost their House-elves, not 'can't afford' them."
He paused, looking at Ron's even more bewildered face, and explained, "Although your family always tries to distance itself from the 'Sacred Twenty-Eight,' your bloodline is undeniable. You, like Malfoy and Longbottom, are one of the oldest families in the Britain Wizarding World. House-elves only choose to serve ancient bloodlines or powerful forces like Hogwarts."
Ron was stunned. He had never thought his family might have once owned House-elves!
But Draco's words sparked an idea in him, 'If there really was a House-elf to help, how much easier would it be for Mum!'
He eagerly pressed: "Then do you know how we can find our House-elves back, or… find another one?"
Draco pondered for a moment: "Your family likely expelled or transferred House-elves in the past; I can confirm that. As for re-attracting them…" He shook his head, "You'd probably have to ask my father about that."
An indescribable joy surged in Ron's heart.
He looked at Draco Malfoy, who he had once found pretentious and annoying, but after being "tempered" by Nios, he now showed a quality that… allowed for communication and even offered help? It felt strange, but certainly not bad.
Watching Ron's genuine happiness, a small, inexplicable warmth also rose in Draco's heart.
This was completely different from the brief, biting pleasure he used to get from mocking others; this was a more lasting, more grounded joy.
However, as Hermione watched the two enthusiastically discuss how to "obtain" House-elves, and heard Draco's words like "perfect servants" and "loyalty," a strong surge of irritation and anger rushed to her head.
The busy figures of the House-elves in the kitchen, Pip's desperate cries, she even saw a House-elf baby in a corner… scene after scene flashed before her eyes.
"You!" Hermione's voice rose with anger, sharp with disbelief, "Why do you only think about enslaving more House-elves?! This is wrong! They have intelligence! They have feelings! They are not tools!"
Her outburst was like a bucket of cold water poured over them.
Ron and Draco instantly fell silent, and Draco quickly lowered his head, as if to bury his face in his plate.
Ron was stunned by Hermione's fury and instinctively looked at Nios, his eyes full of confusion and appeal: What's wrong with her?
Nios knew that he couldn't stay out of this any longer. A deep ideological rift had opened in the team, and trying to smooth things over would only make the problem fester.
"Hermione." Nios's voice was not loud, but exceptionally clear, instantly silencing the other subtle sounds at the dining table.
"Nios." Hermione turned to him sharply, her eyes slightly red, her voice trembling as she questioned, "Do you also think that enslaving others… enslaving other lives is a matter of course? Is there no problem with it?"
Nios did not answer immediately.
He first slowly shook his head, then gently nodded.
This contradictory action confused everyone present, including Draco, who was pretending to be dead with his head down.
"I believe," Nios began, his voice as calm as if stating an objective fact, "that enslaving human compatriots is absolutely wrong. I would sympathize with and oppose any injustice and suffering endured by humans."
He paused, his gaze seeming to penetrate his eye patch, sweeping over everyone's faces.
"But… regarding other races," his tone was utterly devoid of ripples, yet it conveyed a chilling decisiveness, "I'm sorry, my stance is different."
Draco's body stiffened abruptly, then, as if infused with strength, his previously hunched back instantly straightened, and a subtle glimmer, as if he had received some kind of support, even flickered across his face.
"You… how can you say that…" Hermione's face instantly turned ashen, her lips trembling slightly, as if she was truly meeting the person she had been with day and night for the first time.
Harry, Ron, and Neville also looked at Nios in shock, their eyes filled with bewilderment and unfamiliarity.
Nios raised his right hand, palm upward.
Several thin, leaping white electric arcs silently flowed and flickered between his fingers, emitting faint crackling sounds, as if silently emphasizing his power.
"Hermione," he gazed at her, his tone almost cruelly rational, "do you truly believe that the almost instinctive reverence, docility, and humility House-elves show you are genuine emotions stemming from their 'free will'?"
"No!" He answered his own question, "That is merely a behavior pattern forcibly shaped by a curse-like contract branded deep in their bloodline. A… disguise they are forced to wear for survival."
He leaned slightly forward, his voice lower, but even more oppressive: "Imagine, if one day, this curse were broken… this race, enslaved for thousands of years, this race that inherently masters wandless and wordless magic, and can even easily penetrate Hogwarts' Anti-Apparition ward, were to break free…"
Nios's gaze swept over Harry, Ron, Neville, and finally returned to Hermione's pale face.
"How would their anger be unleashed? And how… thorough and deadly would their retaliation be?"
"I hope that before you rush to act as 'liberators'," Nios's tone carried a mentor-like admonition, yet it was chillingly cold, "you can first calmly consider what kind of world your self-proclaimed 'good deed' would ultimately lead to. Is that world truly what you want?"
He looked at Hermione, his voice softening, yet every word was clear: "Hermione, instead of being fixated on breaking that bloodline contract, it would be better to focus your energy on how to practically improve their existing working environment and living conditions. This might… be the choice that causes the least harm to this race, and to humanity."
Having said that, Nios ignored the frozen air at the dining table and the complex, unreadable expressions on everyone's faces, stood up directly, and prepared to leave.
"Nios!" Hermione suddenly stood up, her voice filled with unwillingness and a last trace of stubbornness, shouting at his back, "What if I… what if I insist on liberating them, and what if I succeed?!"
Nios stopped, slowly turned around. The comical cartoon eyes on his eye patch fixed firmly on Hermione.
"My dear Hermione," his voice was unusually soft, yet it made the surrounding temperature plummet, "you've got one thing wrong."
"Before my arrival, that bloodline curse was a tool to enslave them..."
"But after my arrival…" His voice suddenly turned cold, with an undeniable declaration, "This curse has become the 'protective shield' for the continuation of their race!"
He tilted his head slightly, as if stating the most natural truth.
"As long as they stay in their place and never try to break free from this shackles, then I will 'like' them very much, just like I like a useful tool. And I will give them some benefits."
"But," his voice suddenly took on a chilling, bone-chilling coldness, "if I detect even the slightest sign of breaking free… even just a sprout…"
Nios's lips curved into a cold and cruel arc.
"I believe Azazel and his 'companions' would be very happy… to have an extra meal."
Dead silence.
It was as if even the air at the dining table had solidified.
Hermione felt as if she had fallen into an ice cellar, her body trembling slightly.
Harry and the others looked grim, too stunned by Nios's blatant threat to speak.
Nios habitually waited for Azazel to complain or undermine him.
However, there was nothing.
Only a disconcerting silence.
He looked down in surprise, habitually searching for the small figure at his feet.
Ron swallowed, cautiously and slowly raising a hand, breaking the silence with a dry voice:
"Um… Azazel… seems to be… still in the Potion Class classroom…"
Nios's body stiffened abruptly, then he let out an extremely loud:
"Oh My God!"
Nios's previously cold and authoritative aura instantly collapsed.
"You all eat slowly! I have to go save Azazel!"
Before his words faded, he had already rushed out of the Great Hall doors like a gust of wind.
Leaving only a few companions, unsettled by Nios's philosophy, sitting dazed in their seats.