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owlIt's just over a week until we get NEW CANON!! I've had this hanging about my hard drive for a while, and I thought I'd better post it before it gets Jossed (Rowling'd, whatever).
A Minor Pothole on the Road to Revolution
Hermione and Ron finally talk to each other about S.P.E.W., and both of them learn something.
The time and place:
Early Michaelmas term, 1996; the Gryffindor common room, Hogwarts School
"So, Neville, you're quite right," Hermione said.
"Hallo," said Ron's voice. Hermione looked up. He had just come in from Quidditch practice, and his front hair was sticking up damply from the showers.
"Hallo, Ron. Where's Harry?"
"Said he wanted to hang about for a bit and think." The two of them exchanged glances rather grimly.
"You're not still knitting those hats," Ron said, throwing himself down on a chair.
"Yes, actually," Hermione said sharply.
"You're getting really good at it," said Ron, grinning. "I mean, you can see it's definitely a hat."
"Ron! This is important, stop making fun of it!"
"Yeah, the old spewing—"
"Ron!"
"I'll just go and fetch my textbook," said Neville, escaping.
"You should have picked a better name, because spew—"
"—S.P.E.W.—"
"—really is funny—"
Hermione plonked her elbows squarely on the table. "But it's working, the elves are taking the clothes—"
"No, they're not."
"Yes they are!"
"Hermione! Hermione, when was the last time you actually went to see Dobby?"
She faltered. "I—I don't—I'm not sure, I don't go sneaking food from the kitchens and making that my excuse like you and Harry!"
"Well," said Ron, picking up Hermione's quill and tapping it against the table, "say you haven't seen Dobby, our friendly, free elf, in almost a year. So you mightn't have noticed that he's wearing so many hats he can barely walk."
Hermione's face fell. "Is that true?"
"Yes. None of the other elves will clean Gryffindor Tower any more, because they're afraid of picking up clothes by accident."
"What?"
"Hermione, watch my lips: they. Do. Not. Want. To. Be. Freed."
Hermione seemed to sag. "So it was all for nothing?"
Ron looked at her, feeling rather sorry for her. "Most of them don't want to be free. Didn't you notice that Dobby has to clean this whole place by himself?"
Hermione bit her bottom lip, twisting the unfinished hat between her fingers. "But why do they like being slaves?"
Ron shrugged. "Because that's what house-elves do, work. They can't get enough of it. Even Dobby, who's really quite weird, says he is liking freedom, but not too much."
Hermione twisted her fingers together. "But it's inhuman!"
"Well, they aren't human," Ron said reasonably. "Anyway, the Hogwarts elves must be some of the best treated in the country. They don't have to iron their hands or anything, like Dobby with the Malfoys."
"Would you like to work for Lucius Malfoy twenty-four hours a day, with him able to punish you any time he felt like it?"
Ron had to admit the logic of this. "Nope. Nor did Dobby. That's why I'm glad he's free. But you make the Hogwarts elves unhappy if you free them."
"Would you like to be enslaved like that, even to Dumbledore?"
"No. I'm not a house elf."
"It shouldn't be like this!" Hermione looked down at the hat she had been inadvertently unravelling.
"I suppose it's useless to go on with this," she said sadly, throwing it down on the table.
"Yeah," said Ron, wondering was this the end of Hermione's two-year obsession with S.P.E.W.
"I've been doing this the wrong way," said Hermione, almost to herself. Ron nodded encouragingly.
"How can you make them want freedom?"
"You can't make anyone want anything. Why don't we make the Dementors go back to Azkaban and the Death Eaters want to leave You-Know-Who?"
"Voldemort, Ron," Hermione snapped. Several people in the vicinity winced; Neville, who had just come down the stairs from the dormitories, uttered a small squeak and almost dropped Advanced Transfiguration
"It's all right, you didn't grow up being terrified of him," Ron said. There was a pause, during which Neville ventured to sit down again and start tidying up his belongings.
"It'd be okay if you found elves that want to be free, like Dobby," Ron said, because Hermione looked so downcast. "But the Hogwarts elves are all happy as they are. Except for poor Winky. Being freed actually made it worse for her. She loved that git Crouch, in spite of his gitishness."
"Gran says that it's worse to ill-treat a house-elf than a human, because they're bonded like that," Neville put in.
"It's despicable!" Hermione said heatedly. "They never should be enslaved in the first place—"
"Hermione! Do you never listen to a word anyone else is saying? You've got this idea in your head of what's best for the house-elves and you never stop to ask the house-elves what they feel. You're trying to free them against their will, you aren't even being honest with them! It's exactly what you did with Harry's Firebolt in third year, you do everything 'for the best' without bothering to consult the person whose 'best' it is."
"We didn't know that the Firebolt was safe," Hermione interrupted hotly.
"You did have a point with the broomstick," Ron admitted. "If you'd just told Harry—"
"You see!" Hermione exclaimed, her voice going shrill. "I was right to turn in the Firebolt, but it's two and a half years later and you're still angry about that!" She shoved back her chair. "If you really dislike me that much—"
Ron grabbed her hand as she started to rise. "Hey! Hey! I never said that!"
"I don't see what you made such a fuss about! Given a particular set of facts, you have a corresponding course of action that follows logically from the data. How you feel about it doesn't matter."
"Swallowed the Arithmancy textbook, you have," Ron said affectionately. A sudden inspiration seized him, and he went on, "But people's feelings are a part of the data."
Hermione looked startled. "Oh. I suppose they are."
Ron realised, with a little jolt, that he still had hold of Hermione's hand. His first instinct was to let go, but the thought Don't be an idiot, you've wanted to do this for years crossed his mind, and he shifted his clasp slightly.
"I mean," he said, "if I were logical I wouldn't listen when you started having a go at me, but I do, because—because we're best friends."
He cast an agonised glance across the table, but Neville was retrieving a dropped quill and was nowhere to be seen.
"I thought best friends was you and Harry," Hermione said, raising her eyebrows at him.
Aargh, Ron thought. "Can't you have two? I—I care about you both the same, except differently."
That hadn't come out at all the way he had meant. He could feel his ears turning red.
"The same but differently," said Hermione. Ron wondered if he had offended her.
"Um. Same amount, different way," he floundered, feeling sure he was merely making things worse. Suddenly, Hermione smiled at him, turned her hand over and gave his a squeeze. Inspired by a rush of blood to the brain, Ron plunged on desperately, "I—I care about you a lot, you know—"
What further follies Ron might have committed in front of Neville and everyone, they were never to know, for the portrait door opened to admit Harry and Ginny, flushed, breathless and windblown, still in their Quidditch gear. Hermione tugged her hand from Ron's and thrust it into her skirt pocket.
"Hallo," said Ginny. Harry sat down in the remaining chair at the table, and Ginny sat on the arm of Neville's. She looked from Hermione to Ron.
"Have you two been fighting again?"
"Er, yes," Hermione said, rather pink.
"About house-elves," Ron added. Harry scowled and muttered something under his breath.
"You shouldn't be down on the pitch alone, Harry," Hermione said in anxious tones.
"I wasn't alone, Ginny was there too. Don't fuss, Hermione."
"I know you have a brilliant Bat Bogey Hex, Gin," said Hermione earnestly, but do you really think—"
Harry sighed. "Nothing's going to happen to me, Hermione."
"Besides, you have the Firebolt," Ginny said enviously. "By the time anyone was able to see you, even, you could have transfigured his toenails into Doxies."
The three boys laughed. Hermione muttered, "If he'd done his Transfiguration homework, that is," but then gave a reluctant grin.
"Right away, Professor Granger," Harry said, grabbing Neville's textbook.
"Aren't you going to start nagging about NEWT revision yet?" Ron asked innocently.
"Don't be an idiot, Ron, how can we revise before we've learnt anything?"
"Oh, dear, again," Neville murmured, and tried to retreat, but found that Harry still had his transfiguration text.
"We've been back for three weeks, you must have learned heaps in that time," Ron teased. Hermione shook her curly head in an I'm-not-going-to-rise-to-that-manner. Harry, moving parchment about the table, uncovered the woolly hat.
"Not spew again," he moaned.
"We've decided," Hermione said hurriedly, "to try a new approach. I'm not going to try to free the Hogwarts elves any more."
Harry brightened visibly; Ginny grinned, and Neville looked relieved.
"I think the thing to do is to raise awareness of house-elf mistreatment in the community in general. Then if people are seen to be cruel to their elves, it won't be viewed as a matter of course, but as the outrage which it is."
"Are you going to change the name, too?" Ron asked, after a pause in which everyone contemplated Hermione's speech.
"Do you think I ought?"
"Yes," Ron, Harry, Neville and Ginny said in unison.
"How about 'House Elf Legal Protection' and it could be 'H.E.L.P.' for short?" Ron suggested.
"But they don't have any legal protection, that's the point," Hermione said.
"Local Protection?" said Neville.
"Help Elves get Lots of Pay!" Harry exclaimed.
Hermione said, "Honestly, Harry!" but Ginny and Neville giggled.
"Oh, wait, I know," Ron said. "House-Elf Liberation and Protection Society."
Hermione smiled. "That's perfect, Ron. Thanks. I shall have to make new badges."
She wrote H.E.L.P.S. down on her parchment.
"Can I swap my S.P.E.W. badge for one?" Ron asked, acutely aware of his lack of Sickles.
"You don't still have that, do you?" Harry asked.
"Yeah, it's in my trunk somewhere."
"Are you going to write in the Quibbler again?" Ginny asked.
"Along with Goblins ate my Gerbil and My Wild Night of Passion with Lord Thingy?" Harry said.
"If I get desperate," Hermione said, not looking up.
Neville looked pained. "That's just wrong. Think of You-Know-Who...doing that."
"Not to mention baby Voldemorts," said Hermione. "One's quite enough." She pulled a clean sheet of parchment towards her, and headed it: H.E.L.P.S.—Campaign Plan.
"Spew Two!" said Harry, with a gallows grin. Ron splutter as he tried not to laugh, because Hermione was giving Harry the Glare of Death, and he didn't want it to spread to include him, too.
Besides, with the new name, it wasn't really funny anymore.
Unbeta'd, so concrit is much appreciated. I'm not entirely happy with it myself, but I'm almost out of time, so... *shrug*
A Minor Pothole on the Road to Revolution
Hermione and Ron finally talk to each other about S.P.E.W., and both of them learn something.
The time and place:
Early Michaelmas term, 1996; the Gryffindor common room, Hogwarts School
"So, Neville, you're quite right," Hermione said.
"Hallo," said Ron's voice. Hermione looked up. He had just come in from Quidditch practice, and his front hair was sticking up damply from the showers.
"Hallo, Ron. Where's Harry?"
"Said he wanted to hang about for a bit and think." The two of them exchanged glances rather grimly.
"You're not still knitting those hats," Ron said, throwing himself down on a chair.
"Yes, actually," Hermione said sharply.
"You're getting really good at it," said Ron, grinning. "I mean, you can see it's definitely a hat."
"Ron! This is important, stop making fun of it!"
"Yeah, the old spewing—"
"Ron!"
"I'll just go and fetch my textbook," said Neville, escaping.
"You should have picked a better name, because spew—"
"—S.P.E.W.—"
"—really is funny—"
Hermione plonked her elbows squarely on the table. "But it's working, the elves are taking the clothes—"
"No, they're not."
"Yes they are!"
"Hermione! Hermione, when was the last time you actually went to see Dobby?"
She faltered. "I—I don't—I'm not sure, I don't go sneaking food from the kitchens and making that my excuse like you and Harry!"
"Well," said Ron, picking up Hermione's quill and tapping it against the table, "say you haven't seen Dobby, our friendly, free elf, in almost a year. So you mightn't have noticed that he's wearing so many hats he can barely walk."
Hermione's face fell. "Is that true?"
"Yes. None of the other elves will clean Gryffindor Tower any more, because they're afraid of picking up clothes by accident."
"What?"
"Hermione, watch my lips: they. Do. Not. Want. To. Be. Freed."
Hermione seemed to sag. "So it was all for nothing?"
Ron looked at her, feeling rather sorry for her. "Most of them don't want to be free. Didn't you notice that Dobby has to clean this whole place by himself?"
Hermione bit her bottom lip, twisting the unfinished hat between her fingers. "But why do they like being slaves?"
Ron shrugged. "Because that's what house-elves do, work. They can't get enough of it. Even Dobby, who's really quite weird, says he is liking freedom, but not too much."
Hermione twisted her fingers together. "But it's inhuman!"
"Well, they aren't human," Ron said reasonably. "Anyway, the Hogwarts elves must be some of the best treated in the country. They don't have to iron their hands or anything, like Dobby with the Malfoys."
"Would you like to work for Lucius Malfoy twenty-four hours a day, with him able to punish you any time he felt like it?"
Ron had to admit the logic of this. "Nope. Nor did Dobby. That's why I'm glad he's free. But you make the Hogwarts elves unhappy if you free them."
"Would you like to be enslaved like that, even to Dumbledore?"
"No. I'm not a house elf."
"It shouldn't be like this!" Hermione looked down at the hat she had been inadvertently unravelling.
"I suppose it's useless to go on with this," she said sadly, throwing it down on the table.
"Yeah," said Ron, wondering was this the end of Hermione's two-year obsession with S.P.E.W.
"I've been doing this the wrong way," said Hermione, almost to herself. Ron nodded encouragingly.
"How can you make them want freedom?"
"You can't make anyone want anything. Why don't we make the Dementors go back to Azkaban and the Death Eaters want to leave You-Know-Who?"
"Voldemort, Ron," Hermione snapped. Several people in the vicinity winced; Neville, who had just come down the stairs from the dormitories, uttered a small squeak and almost dropped Advanced Transfiguration
"It's all right, you didn't grow up being terrified of him," Ron said. There was a pause, during which Neville ventured to sit down again and start tidying up his belongings.
"It'd be okay if you found elves that want to be free, like Dobby," Ron said, because Hermione looked so downcast. "But the Hogwarts elves are all happy as they are. Except for poor Winky. Being freed actually made it worse for her. She loved that git Crouch, in spite of his gitishness."
"Gran says that it's worse to ill-treat a house-elf than a human, because they're bonded like that," Neville put in.
"It's despicable!" Hermione said heatedly. "They never should be enslaved in the first place—"
"Hermione! Do you never listen to a word anyone else is saying? You've got this idea in your head of what's best for the house-elves and you never stop to ask the house-elves what they feel. You're trying to free them against their will, you aren't even being honest with them! It's exactly what you did with Harry's Firebolt in third year, you do everything 'for the best' without bothering to consult the person whose 'best' it is."
"We didn't know that the Firebolt was safe," Hermione interrupted hotly.
"You did have a point with the broomstick," Ron admitted. "If you'd just told Harry—"
"You see!" Hermione exclaimed, her voice going shrill. "I was right to turn in the Firebolt, but it's two and a half years later and you're still angry about that!" She shoved back her chair. "If you really dislike me that much—"
Ron grabbed her hand as she started to rise. "Hey! Hey! I never said that!"
"I don't see what you made such a fuss about! Given a particular set of facts, you have a corresponding course of action that follows logically from the data. How you feel about it doesn't matter."
"Swallowed the Arithmancy textbook, you have," Ron said affectionately. A sudden inspiration seized him, and he went on, "But people's feelings are a part of the data."
Hermione looked startled. "Oh. I suppose they are."
Ron realised, with a little jolt, that he still had hold of Hermione's hand. His first instinct was to let go, but the thought Don't be an idiot, you've wanted to do this for years crossed his mind, and he shifted his clasp slightly.
"I mean," he said, "if I were logical I wouldn't listen when you started having a go at me, but I do, because—because we're best friends."
He cast an agonised glance across the table, but Neville was retrieving a dropped quill and was nowhere to be seen.
"I thought best friends was you and Harry," Hermione said, raising her eyebrows at him.
Aargh, Ron thought. "Can't you have two? I—I care about you both the same, except differently."
That hadn't come out at all the way he had meant. He could feel his ears turning red.
"The same but differently," said Hermione. Ron wondered if he had offended her.
"Um. Same amount, different way," he floundered, feeling sure he was merely making things worse. Suddenly, Hermione smiled at him, turned her hand over and gave his a squeeze. Inspired by a rush of blood to the brain, Ron plunged on desperately, "I—I care about you a lot, you know—"
What further follies Ron might have committed in front of Neville and everyone, they were never to know, for the portrait door opened to admit Harry and Ginny, flushed, breathless and windblown, still in their Quidditch gear. Hermione tugged her hand from Ron's and thrust it into her skirt pocket.
"Hallo," said Ginny. Harry sat down in the remaining chair at the table, and Ginny sat on the arm of Neville's. She looked from Hermione to Ron.
"Have you two been fighting again?"
"Er, yes," Hermione said, rather pink.
"About house-elves," Ron added. Harry scowled and muttered something under his breath.
"You shouldn't be down on the pitch alone, Harry," Hermione said in anxious tones.
"I wasn't alone, Ginny was there too. Don't fuss, Hermione."
"I know you have a brilliant Bat Bogey Hex, Gin," said Hermione earnestly, but do you really think—"
Harry sighed. "Nothing's going to happen to me, Hermione."
"Besides, you have the Firebolt," Ginny said enviously. "By the time anyone was able to see you, even, you could have transfigured his toenails into Doxies."
The three boys laughed. Hermione muttered, "If he'd done his Transfiguration homework, that is," but then gave a reluctant grin.
"Right away, Professor Granger," Harry said, grabbing Neville's textbook.
"Aren't you going to start nagging about NEWT revision yet?" Ron asked innocently.
"Don't be an idiot, Ron, how can we revise before we've learnt anything?"
"Oh, dear, again," Neville murmured, and tried to retreat, but found that Harry still had his transfiguration text.
"We've been back for three weeks, you must have learned heaps in that time," Ron teased. Hermione shook her curly head in an I'm-not-going-to-rise-to-that-manner. Harry, moving parchment about the table, uncovered the woolly hat.
"Not spew again," he moaned.
"We've decided," Hermione said hurriedly, "to try a new approach. I'm not going to try to free the Hogwarts elves any more."
Harry brightened visibly; Ginny grinned, and Neville looked relieved.
"I think the thing to do is to raise awareness of house-elf mistreatment in the community in general. Then if people are seen to be cruel to their elves, it won't be viewed as a matter of course, but as the outrage which it is."
"Are you going to change the name, too?" Ron asked, after a pause in which everyone contemplated Hermione's speech.
"Do you think I ought?"
"Yes," Ron, Harry, Neville and Ginny said in unison.
"How about 'House Elf Legal Protection' and it could be 'H.E.L.P.' for short?" Ron suggested.
"But they don't have any legal protection, that's the point," Hermione said.
"Local Protection?" said Neville.
"Help Elves get Lots of Pay!" Harry exclaimed.
Hermione said, "Honestly, Harry!" but Ginny and Neville giggled.
"Oh, wait, I know," Ron said. "House-Elf Liberation and Protection Society."
Hermione smiled. "That's perfect, Ron. Thanks. I shall have to make new badges."
She wrote H.E.L.P.S. down on her parchment.
"Can I swap my S.P.E.W. badge for one?" Ron asked, acutely aware of his lack of Sickles.
"You don't still have that, do you?" Harry asked.
"Yeah, it's in my trunk somewhere."
"Are you going to write in the Quibbler again?" Ginny asked.
"Along with Goblins ate my Gerbil and My Wild Night of Passion with Lord Thingy?" Harry said.
"If I get desperate," Hermione said, not looking up.
Neville looked pained. "That's just wrong. Think of You-Know-Who...doing that."
"Not to mention baby Voldemorts," said Hermione. "One's quite enough." She pulled a clean sheet of parchment towards her, and headed it: H.E.L.P.S.—Campaign Plan.
"Spew Two!" said Harry, with a gallows grin. Ron splutter as he tried not to laugh, because Hermione was giving Harry the Glare of Death, and he didn't want it to spread to include him, too.
Besides, with the new name, it wasn't really funny anymore.
Unbeta'd, so concrit is much appreciated. I'm not entirely happy with it myself, but I'm almost out of time, so... *shrug*
