Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 533: House-Elves and Centaurs

For most students, the first part of the holidays was all fun and games, leaving homework as an afterthought until just before term resumed.

So on the last day of the Christmas break, the Hufflepuff common room was transformed. Gone was the laughter and cheer of the previous days; now, every flat surface was occupied by students frantically trying to catch up on their unfinished assignments.

This panicked, last-minute effort was something of a tradition in Hufflepuff, occurring once or twice a year without fail.

With only a day left until classes began, the urgency was palpable. Even at lunchtime, the usually crowded Great Hall felt emptier than usual. Hufflepuff’s table, in particular, looked almost deserted.

Of course, this might also have been because Hufflepuff’s common room was so conveniently close to the kitchen. Many students likely grabbed their meals without venturing to the Hall at all.

Elsewhere, odd behavior could be seen among other houses, too.

Harry and Ron from Gryffindor, for example, only spent five minutes in the Hall before hurrying off with their pockets stuffed full of baked potatoes. Hermione trailed after them, berating them non-stop.

However, when they reached the door, she abruptly stopped. Instead of following them, she turned on her heel and headed straight toward Hufflepuff’s common room.

Kyle, meanwhile, was deep in a discussion about Firebolt with Cedric when Hermione appeared, sitting down in the empty seat across from him.

“Hermione?” Kyle asked, startled. “Have you and Ron had another fight?”

“No,” Hermione replied firmly. “I’ve come to the conclusion that arguing with him is pointless and just makes me feel worse. I’m here to see you.”

“See me?” Kyle asked, clearly puzzled.

“Because of this.”

Hermione produced a small box and opened it, setting it on the table.

Kyle and Cedric leaned forward curiously. Inside were dozens of colorful badges, each emblazoned with the same letters:

S.P.E.W.

“Spew?” Cedric asked instinctively. “You’re not planning to use these to heckle the Champions from other schools during the second task, are you? I doubt Professor McGonagall would approve of that.”

“It’s not Spew!” Hermione snapped, irritation flashing across her face. Clearly, this wasn’t the first time someone had made that assumption. She took a deep breath and explained, “It’s an acronym: the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare.”

“House-elf what?” Cedric asked, confused, turning to Kyle. “Have you heard of this?”

“No,” Kyle replied, shaking his head.

“I founded it two months ago,” Hermione said briskly. “The goal is to fight for the rights of House-elves and ensure they’re paid for their work.”

“Huh?” Cedric blinked, certain he’d misheard. “Pay House-elves?”

“Yes, exactly,” Hermione said, her voice rising slightly. “I think it’s appalling how many wizards treat their House-elves like slaves. They don’t get paid, they don’t get any time off, and what’s worse, there are over a hundred House-elves working right here at Hogwarts—”

Hermione’s voice grew louder and more impassioned, her words pouring out in a fervent rush as though she were campaigning for the position of Minister of Magic.

Her speech drew mixed reactions from the surrounding students. A few couldn’t help but laugh, and the Slytherins nearby were practically in hysterics, some slapping their tables in glee.

Cedric, ever composed, managed to keep a straight face and listen patiently.

“So,” Hermione concluded, “I think we should help them. Are you in? It’s only two Sickles for a badge, and the proceeds go toward printing flyers.”

“Sorry,” Cedric said after a pause, “can I ask how many members you have so far?”

“Er... six,” Hermione admitted. “Me, Harry, Ron, Neville, and Fred and George.”

“Fred...” Cedric echoed incredulously. “Fred and George joined?”

“Yes,” Hermione confirmed. “Although they said they wouldn’t participate in any activities, they still bought badges.”

Kyle raised an eyebrow. Knowing Fred and George, the only reason they’d willingly part with two Sickles was because of the novelty of the badge itself.

The badges had a unique feature: by shaking them, the text “SPEW” transformed into an image of a House-elf.

Kyle suspected that, with a few modifications, the twins could easily replace the House-elf image with Krum’s face—or something equally ridiculous—and use it to jeer at people.

“Would you like to join us?” Hermione asked hopefully, pushing the box of badges closer.

“If we’re not required to participate... I’ll buy a badge,” Cedric said with a small smile, fishing out two Sickles and handing them to Hermione.

Kanna, standing nearby, followed suit. She paid two Sickles, partly out of support for her friend—but only on the condition that she wouldn’t have to wear the badge. The design reminded her too much of the Weasley twins’ prank badges, like Percy’s infamous “Big Head Boy.” Wearing it in public would be a bit... embarrassing.

Despite this, Kyle remained unmoved.

“You’re not interested?” Hermione asked, her expression tinged with disappointment. She hadn’t expected this from Kyle.

Still, she wasn’t ready to give up just yet. She had considered how influential Kyle could be as a Champion. If he joined, his support might inspire others to do the same.

Taking a deep breath, she pressed on, raising her voice slightly. “This is slave labor, Kyle. Every bite we eat here comes from the oppression of House-elves. Don’t you think it’s wrong to just go along with it?”

Kanna frowned. She disliked the tone Hermione had taken with Kyle. Her fingers itched to snatch back her Sickles.

“I’m not buying it. Give me my money back—”

But before she could finish, Kyle interrupted.

“I understand your concern, Hermione,” he said evenly, shaking his head. “But I think you’re going about this the wrong way. Let me ask you: have you been to the kitchen?”

“Yes,” Hermione replied quickly. “I went there to encourage them to demand their wages.”

“And what happened?” Kyle pressed.

Hermione hesitated, her confidence faltering. After a long pause, she mumbled, “House-elves have been enslaved for so long... which is why they need our help. I think—”

“Hold on,” Kyle cut in, raising a hand. “This isn’t something we can resolve with a few words. How about this: if you have some time, come with me. I want to show you something. Afterward, if you still feel the same way, I’ll buy a badge.”

Hermione’s eyes brightened at the offer. “Alright! Where are we going?”

“Come with me, and you’ll find out.”

Kyle stood and headed out of the Great Hall, Hermione trailing close behind.

Kanna glanced at the departing pair, then followed after a brief moment of consideration. Naturally, Cedric joined as well, and he waved for Cho, who had been eating nearby, to come along.

The group exited the castle and crossed the grounds, heading toward the Forbidden Forest. As they neared Hagrid’s hut, they noticed it was closed up. Fang’s deep barks echoed from within, the only sign of life around the area.

The door to Hagrid’s hut creaked open, and Hagrid’s weary face appeared in the gap. He looked utterly haggard, as though he hadn’t slept in days. Despite his mood, he hadn’t forgotten his duty.

“You lot,” he called gruffly to Kyle, who was standing near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. “If you’ve come to visit, turn back. I just want to be left alone. And if you’re thinking of goin’ into the Forbidden Forest, go back too. It’s far too dangerous. As long as I’m not fired, you’re not getting in.”

“Sorry, Hagrid,” Kyle said, halting in his tracks. “But we really need to go into the Forbidden Forest for something important. Could you please call one of the Centaurs for us?”

“Oh, no, go back.” Hagrid’s voice was firm.

“We really do have something important to do, Hagrid. Please,” Kyle insisted.

Hagrid hesitated, his massive frame leaning against the doorframe. After a moment, he sighed deeply and staggered out of the hut.

“All right,” he relented, “but you mustn’t take another step until I come back with one of them. Just wait here.”

“No problem,” Kyle agreed.

Hagrid nodded, muttering under his breath, and trudged off into the Forbidden Forest.

True to his word, Kyle stayed put, continuing a casual conversation with Cedric to pass the time.

“Seriously, the Firebolt’s abilities are amazing,” Kyle said, leaning against a nearby tree. “I can’t believe you held Harry off for as long as you did last year.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Cedric admitted with a grin. “The way you dodged that Bludger was just so smooth. The Firebolt really is every Seeker’s dream broom.”

“You should get one,” Kyle suggested. “Once I win the 1,000 Galleons prize money from the Triwizard Tournament, I’ll lend it to you.”

“No thanks,” Cedric laughed. “I’ll be in seventh year next year. It’s not worth it for just one year.”

“What about after graduation?” Kyle pressed. “Don’t you want to join a professional Quidditch team? You can’t keep flying on a Nimbus 1700…”

“Kyle’s right,” Kanna added from the side. “If it’s about the cost, I can lend you mine for a while.”

Hermione, meanwhile, stood silently nearby, her expression contemplative as she watched the group talk.

Before long, Hagrid returned, accompanied by a Centaur.

The Centaur was strikingly handsome, with piercing blue eyes and platinum-blonde hair that caught the light. His lower body, a sleek silver-maned horse with a light-golden coat, was equally captivating.

“Thanks, Hagrid,” Kyle said, stepping forward to greet the Centaur. “Hello, Firenze.”

“Hello, little one,” Firenze replied warmly. “Ah, I remember you—you saved the baby Unicorn from that Dark Wizard.”

“That was ages ago,” Kyle said with a modest shrug.

“Yes, and the baby Unicorn has grown now,” Firenze said, his tone fond. “But back to business. Hagrid said you wanted to speak with us. Is something wrong?”

“It’s just a simple question,” Kyle explained. “Firenze, what do you think about the fact that wizards always wear clothes?”

“Unbelievable,” Firenze said immediately, his expression one of astonishment. “I cannot understand why you choose to punish yourselves in such a severe way when you are still little ponies and have done nothing wrong.”

“Wait, are you saying that wearing clothes is punishment?” Hermione interjected, her curiosity piqued.

“Yes,” Firenze said solemnly. “In our tribe, only those who commit serious transgressions are forced to wear strips of cloth or leaves. It is a way of separating them from nature, a reminder of their wrongdoing.”

“Thank you, Firenze,” Kyle said, nodding. “That’s all I wanted to ask. Please give Magorian my regards.”

“I will certainly pass on the message,” Firenze replied.

He turned to leave but hesitated for a moment. Looking back at the group, he added, “I truly suggest you remove the shackles on your bodies and experience the charm of nature. After all, you have done nothing wrong.”

“Er... no thanks,” Cho said hastily, taking a cautious step back. Her gaze toward Firenze had shifted, now tinged with apprehension.