After listening to Dobby talk about the past few years, about how he had been unable to find work simply because he asked for wages, even Harry and Ron, who had never taken it too seriously, began to understand how difficult life was for house-elves.
Especially with Professor Fawley fanning the flames beside them.
"Not a single wizard was willing to pay me. They all believed that giving me food and a place to sleep was already generous enough."
"Just imagine," Professor Fawley cut in, "you've just graduated, and your employer tells you that offering you a job is already an act of kindness. So what's the problem with an unpaid six-month trial?"
Putting themselves in that position, the group immediately felt a surge of anger.
Ron most of all.
"I do that much work! Anyone else would mess it up. Why shouldn't I be paid?!"
"Exactly. House-elves serve wizards every minute of the day, yet they live in spaces worse than cupboards and eat their masters' leftovers."
Tver pointed at Dobby, who nodded vigorously, his small head bobbing in agreement.
"Compared to what they give, what they receive is practically nothing."
"But wizards do give them shelter…" Ron said uncertainly.
"And without wizards, they could still look after themselves. If they were free to find proper work, they might even build comfortable lives through their own efforts."
"Admit it, Ron." Tver patted him on the shoulder. "Wizards have been brainwashing house-elves out of pure selfishness."
"They treat other sentient beings the same way, using selfishness and lies to protect their own interests."
"And once those beings realize the truth, wizards will have to pay a price they can't afford."
It sounded almost like The Matrix, except this time humans were the oppressors.
"Dobby… Dobby would never hurt wizards…" the little elf said, shrinking back nervously.
It was the first time Dobby had seen this side of Tver. In the kitchen, Tver was usually friendly, always dropping by for snacks and speaking gently to every house-elf.
"That's why wizards should be grateful to you, Dobby. A house-elf as good as you deserves proper pay. That's only right." Tver gently patted his small head.
"All right, I have other things to take care of, so I won't stay and chat. Goodbye, Dobby."
"Professor, goodbye~" the five of them chorused.
Dobby hesitated, giving a small wave as he watched Tver disappear through the doorway.
As soon as Tver left, Ron let out a long breath.
"What the professor said… it's not wrong. It's just…"
"Creepy?" Harry offered carefully.
"Oh!" Ron's face lit up as if he had caught him out. "I didn't say that. You did!"
"You were clearly thinking it," Harry shot back, shoving his shoulder.
"Stop fooling around," Hermione cut in, pulling out a notebook. "Would you mind answering a few questions?"
Before Dobby, Harry, or Ron could respond, she and Fleur dragged over a couple of chairs and sat down across from Dobby.
It looked exactly like an interview, enough to make Harry feel a faint sense of dread.
"Of course, Miss Granger, and Miss Delacour may ask Dobby anything they like!"
Dobby gave a polite little bow, then shuffled into his seat, kicking his feet eagerly as he waited.
On one foot he wore Harry's black sock, while the other was covered in bright pink and orange stripes.
"Ahem." Hermione cleared her throat, trying to sound like the reporters she had seen on television. "First question. Why do you want wages?"
"Because Dobby is a free house-elf!" Dobby answered at once, raising his voice and sweeping a defiant glance around the kitchen.
"Dobby does not belong to any wizard. Dobby… Dobby…" He hesitated briefly. "Dobby can do whatever Dobby wants!"
"Exactly. Why should wizards live freely while house-elves have to work endlessly?" Hermione said approvingly.
"Second question. Once you earn wages, what do you plan to do with the money?"
Dobby looked down at his little feet, then shot Harry a shy glance.
"Dobby wants to buy socks. If there isn't enough money, Dobby will buy yarn and knit socks instead…"
"You seem very fond of socks," Fleur said curiously.
"Because it was Mr. Potter's sock that made Dobby free!"
"But your wages aren't that low. Isn't it enough for one pair?" Hermione frowned.
She wondered if Dobby had no experience spending money and had been cheated by some unscrupulous shopkeeper.
"One pair isn't enough," Dobby said in a conspiratorial whisper, though his shrill voice still carried clearly through the noisy kitchen. "Dobby wants to give a pair to Mr. Potter, and also to kind wizards like you."
"If Dobby had no wages, Dobby would be like other house-elves, unable to give Christmas presents to friends…"
He kept his head lowered, talking to himself, completely unaware of Hermione and the others' surprise, or the complicated looks from the house-elves nearby.
"How can a house-elf have friends? They are guests, Dobby. That's terribly improper!"
An older house-elf shrieked angrily at him, startling several others so badly that plates slipped from their hands and shattered on the floor with a sharp clatter.
Dobby flinched at the noise, shrinking back. He glanced fearfully at the older elf, then cast a pitiful look toward Hermione and the others, especially Harry.
Sensing Dobby's distress, Harry stepped forward without hesitation, placing himself between Dobby and the older elf.
"Dobby is my friend. Every one of us is willing to be Dobby's friend. I'm sure everyone in this school would be willing to be his friend."
"And if someone isn't, that's their problem, not Dobby's," Ron added, moving to stand beside Harry.
At that moment, he finally understood something. What house-elves truly needed was not wages or payment, but recognition.
Recognition as rightful members of the wizarding world.
The older elf looked at them, then at Hermione and Fleur, whose expressions were firm and unwavering.
"You only say that because you are close to Dobby. House-elves are born to serve wizards. It's impossible for them to…"
"No." Hermione cut him off. "You've never even tried. How can you say it's impossible?"
"Dobby is proof. He earned respect through his character and his actions. You can do the same."
"Please… don't look down on yourselves," she said at last, almost pleading.
A flicker of emotion crossed the elf's face. He pressed his lips together and avoided Hermione's tear-bright eyes.
"Hmph."
With a soft snort, he turned and went back to work.
Hermione pouted, clearly upset, but Fleur stepped forward and pulled her into a hug.
"You've done very well. We knew this might happen, didn't we?"
To be honest, Fleur had once looked down on the plight of house-elves.
Veela suffered because they could not secure the rights they deserved. House-elves, on the other hand, seemed to accept their situation without fighting for change.
But now she was beginning to understand why Professor Fawley had arranged for Hermione to take the lead instead of doing it herself.
Only genuine care could allow sentient beings to truly feel goodwill from wizards.
That was the only way to prevent conflict between the two sides.