Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 534: You’re Going the Wrong Way

Firenze’s words left Hermione visibly shaken. She opened her mouth to respond but found herself at a loss for the first time.

“So, do you understand now?” Kyle asked, turning to her. “In the eyes of the Centaurs, us wearing clothes is a form of constant self-punishment—the harshest kind. Isn’t that exactly how you view House-elves and their work?”

“No, it’s not the same,” Hermione said quickly, shaking her head as if trying to dismiss the comparison. “Centaurs have nothing to do with us, and their dislike for wearing clothes is just part of their nature, right? But House-elves are one of us. They live and work at the school.”

“It’s no different,” Kyle said firmly. “You just don’t want to admit it. I’ve worked with Centaurs on an explorer squad in Romania. They didn’t change their ways just because their teammates were wizards, and they didn’t try to force their ideas onto others either. The two groups got along perfectly well by respecting each other’s choices.”

“No... I don’t think it’s the same...” Hermione stammered, but she was struggling to refute his point.

She suddenly found herself wishing Harry and Ron were there. At least they might try to back her up... though on second thought, Ron had mocked her badge too, so even their presence probably wouldn’t help much.

“What are yeh all talkin’ about?” Hagrid interrupted, looking utterly baffled.

Although he’d been involved from the start—going so far as to call Firenze for them—he hadn’t grasped a word of the argument. Centaurs, clothes, House-elves... he understood each concept on its own but had no idea how they were connected.

“It’s like this...” Cho stepped forward and began explaining the situation to Hagrid in broad strokes.

Meanwhile, Kyle continued addressing Hermione, who stood still, a mix of frustration and introspection on her face.

“There’s something else you need to understand, Hermione,” Kyle said. “You probably don’t realize it yet, but barging into the kitchen to tell House-elves they should demand wages is a lot like a Centaur storming into a castle and demanding everyone take off their clothes.”

Hermione’s eyes widened slightly as Kyle pressed on.

“To the House-elves, that kind of demand is one of the gravest insults imaginable. Frankly, I’m amazed they didn’t beat you up on the spot.”

“It was close...” Hermione admitted softly after a long pause. Her voice was so quiet it was barely audible. “When I left, I saw some of them fetching a spatula and firewood...”

“Well, they were quite restrained then,” Kyle said with a shrug. “At least they waited until you were about to leave. If a Centaur tried to convince me to strip down, he’d end up in the Hospital Wing for a while.”

“Puff.”

Cedric couldn’t help it—he burst out laughing. The image of a Centaur earnestly trying to persuade everyone to abandon their clothing was just too absurd.

But his laughter was cut short when Cho, having finished her explanation to Hagrid, returned and gave him a swift kick to the shin.

Hermione, however, suddenly regained some of her earlier confidence. “What about Dobby?” she asked, a spark of determination returning to her eyes.

“Dobby?” Kyle echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Hermione said. “Dobby is the House-elf who sealed the entrance to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters in second year, causing Harry and Ron to miss the train. Later, he demanded to be paid for his work. Doesn’t that prove House-elves don’t actually like being treated like slaves? They just haven’t realized it yet.”

“I won’t deny Dobby is an exception,” Kyle admitted. “But he’s just that—an exception.”

“It’s not as uncommon as you think!” Hermione said heatedly.

“It is among House-elves,” Kyle countered calmly. “And don’t forget, it happens among wizards too. Remember the Quidditch World Cup? There was that wizard who insisted on a healthy breeze blowing up his bottom.”

Cedric snorted, struggling to stifle another laugh. He couldn’t help but recall the scene vividly: the wizard had been adamant about wearing only a short, printed dressing gown and had flatly refused to put on trousers, despite repeated warnings.

“And speaking of Dobby...” Kyle began, pausing to gather his thoughts. “He’s doing great at Newt Scamander’s place. He earns ten Galleons a week—half of which he spends on snacks for all kinds of magical creatures, and the other half he gives to a Niffler. All voluntarily, mind you. Sometimes when Newt tries to stop him, Dobby just sneaks the Galleons anyway and buys the snacks regardless.”

Kyle smirked. “And on his one day off each week, Dobby goes out, buys things with his Galleons, changes into his own clothes, and then comes back to work. For Dobby, it was never about the Galleons. It was about having the freedom to make his own choices—to refuse what he doesn’t like and to be rewarded for his efforts.”

“And, honestly, Hogwarts already provides all of that—except the rewards.”

Cedric nodded in agreement. “That’s true. If you visit the kitchens often, you’ll notice how happy they are. Sometimes I go just to grab a biscuit, but I leave with enough snacks for a week. They’re so enthusiastic it’s almost overwhelming.”

Hermione said nothing, her face pale and lips pressed tightly together. Her confidence had been shaken, her thoughts tangled in doubt. Firenze’s perspective, paired with what Kyle had said, left her questioning everything.

Kyle seemed to notice her inner turmoil and continued gently. “Still, I think your approach is wrong.” He glanced briefly in the direction Firenze had left. “If you want to help House-elves, you should focus on changing the general attitude wizards have toward them. Forcing wages on them without considering their culture or desires only alienates them.”

“I know an old House-elf who still feels deeply grateful to his former master for being kind to him. Their perspective is different—it’s shaped by generations of tradition.”

“So... you’re saying I didn’t do anything wrong?” Hermione asked, her head tilting up slightly, her tone tinged with hope.

“Well, if you stop storming into kitchens demanding they be paid,” Kyle said with a small smile, “then you’re on the right track. Otherwise, next time, you’ll likely be the first one to get thrown out.”

Hermione bit her lip. “What should I do, then? What if I try handing out flyers or writing to The Daily Prophet?”

Kyle shrugged. “That’s up to you—it’s your cause, and only you can decide how to pursue it. I’ve got enough on my plate preparing for the second task of the Triwizard Tournament.”

Hermione seemed to sense he was wrapping up the conversation but made one last attempt. “If I stop asking for payment for the House-elves, will you buy a badge?”

“Well...” Kyle hesitated, picturing the “SPEW” badge with its unfortunate connotations. He reached into his pocket theatrically. “I left in a hurry today and didn’t bring any money. How about next time? Next time, I’ll definitely buy one.”

Standing nearby, Kanna glanced at Kyle knowingly. She was well aware that Kyle carried everything he owned in his enchanted suitcase. The idea he didn’t have money on him was laughable—but she kept quiet, smirking faintly at his clever dodge.

As the group prepared to leave, Hermione trailed behind, her earlier confidence completely eroded. Head down, she walked silently, lost in thought.

“Oh, Hermione,” Kyle called out suddenly, stopping her in her tracks. “I can’t help you directly, but I can give you some advice.”

She turned to face him, eyes curious.

“If you really want to help House-elves, start by visiting the school library,” Kyle said earnestly. “Read up on their history and culture. Gain a deeper, more comprehensive understanding of who they are and what they value.”

“Only then can you start persuading others effectively. If you go in saying things like, ‘I think’ or ‘I feel,’ you won’t get far. You need facts. A cause based on emotions alone won’t work.”