Disclaimer is in chapter 1.

Hermione Granger was confused.

This wasn't as odd a situation as one might think, not that she would admit it to anyone. She was often confused, and when that happened she spent time in the library until she was no longer confused.

Hermione Granger spent a lot of time in the library.

This time, however, there was no savior to be found in the books. Everything she could find on House Elves was just utterly abhorrent. Not only were the poor things nothing more than slaves, there wasn't even any hint of them every being anything else or desiring anything more.

It was disgusting on levels beyond anything she'd ever seen.

It was in this state that she was joined by her normal study partners.

"You appear vexed." Wednesday said as she took a seat.

"She looks pissed." Xander countered, grinning easily as he flopped down into his own.

Hermione looked between them, eyes flaring, "Have you two heard about house elves?"

Wednesday cocked an eyebrow, but said nothing as Xander shrugged.

"What? The little guys who handle the food and everything here in school?"

"You KNEW?" Hermione hissed, her voice shifting to near murderous in intensity.

Xander straightened up, eyeing her more seriously. "Knew what? They're cool little guys. What about it?"

"They're slaves!" She hissed, glaring at him, "We're supporting a slave culture."

"Huh." Xander said.

"Huh? That's all you have to say?" Hermione shook her head, "We have to do something."

"Weird. The little guys didn't seem unhappy."

"They're slaves, Xander," Hermione said, "of course they're unhappy."

"One does not necessarily follow the other," Wednesday retorted calmly. "Most slaves today are quite satisfied with their lot in life."

"What slaves?" Hermione looked puzzled. "There are more slaves in the magical world?"

"I meant non magical slaves in Britain and America."

Hermione's eyes widened, "Non magical? Wednesday Addams, The United States and Great Britain don't keep slaves."

"I suppose that depends on your point of view," Wednesday shrugged, "Hordes of uneducated, largely ignorant, minimum wage workers who have no opportunities other than another dead end job qualifies as slaves in my opinion."

"They can choose to go to school!"

"Most aren't taught how to learn, or are unable to learn for various reasons. And even if they did, it would only gain them a mere improvement in their status to moderately more valuable slaves." The Addams girl shrugged.

"Some people do far better than that," Hermione defended her position.

"And some Gladiators in ancient Rome grabbed the Brass Ring, what's your point?"

Hermione gaped, uncertain how to respond.

"Actually, I rather suspect that compared to housing and feeding a slave proper, paying minimum wage is likely less expensive a proposition for most employers." Wednesday continued thoughtfully.

"I doubt it," Xander said, considering it with some amusement, "You're forgetting the power of numbers. Caring for one slave would probably cost more, caring for a million though?"

"True. I can see the McDonalds Slave Barracks now," Wednesday smiled slightly.

"Gives a whole new meaning to over one million served." Xander smirked.

"Fine," Hermione cut in, "Never mind that. I'm not going to argue semantics with you. The point is that Hogwarts is served by *slaves*!"

"Are they mistreated?" Wednesday asked.

"Are you saying that slavery is alright if we're nice about it?"

"Hardly, Slavery is morally bankrupt. It violates the only truly important thing we have." Wednesday said.

"And that is?"

"Our right to free will." The dark girl said evenly.

"So you agree, we have to do something about the house elves," Hermione said triumphantly.

"No, I ask again, are they unhappy?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Xander spoke up softly, "One can no more free a slave than one can enslave a free man."

"What?" Hermione blinked, set back slightly.

"Precisely," Wednesday smiled.

"It's something my great uncle told me." Xander said, "When we were talking about the Civil War in the US. He told me that slavery really only lasted as long as the Slaves were content with their position. They didn't have to be happy, just content."

"There's nothing to be contented about!"

Xander shrugged, "For me and you? No. There isn't. For slaves in early America, well, they came from a Slave culture. They were sold to traders by their own people, or other traders. It was expected, a part of their lives. Most were treated as semi valuable property in the states, which was better than they got in Africa as a rule. So, they were content. If you're in hell and someone offers to turn down the flames a few notches, it seems like a good deal."

"You can't really believe that slaves in the United States had a good deal!?"

Xander glared sharply at her, "No, I don't. But you're missing the point. If the house elves are happy, there's nothing you can do short of trying to make them *unhappy*."

"Dobby wasn't happy." Hermione blurted, grasping at straws.

"Who's that?"

"He used to be the Malfoy's house elf." Hermione said, "He was mistreated badly, he wanted to be free."

"Well, there's your disaffected slaves." Xander said with a shrug, "Don't worry about Hogwarts until they ask you for help. Find the ones who are already free in their minds, but still wearing chains."

"Breaking chains is always easier than changing minds." Wednesday nodded slightly.

Hermione fell silent, still confused, but thinking more than reading now.

Xander took that as the end of the conversation and turned his focus back to his notes and the books he pulled from the shelves. He'd been toying with the idea of the two way mirror a bit, thinking that maybe he could add a small one to the spell phones and get video conferences of sorts with it.

It sounded good, but the more he thought about it the less he liked the idea really. Oh, he wasn't totally ruling it out, but he really couldn't think of any good reason to use picture to picture communication compared to straight voice. Especially not on a devise as compact as a spell phone.

Now on a larger screen, Xander smirked, he could get someone to hold it up to a TV or something and then maybe he wouldn't be so far behind the decent shows and movies now.

That thought pulled him up, and suddenly he started scribbling furiously on the paper.

Damn it! Why hadn't he thought of that EARLIER?

"Xander?"

He paused in his writing, and looked up to see that Hermione had come out of her fugue and was looking at him curiously.

"What is it?"

"I just remembered something I wanted to ask you," She said hesitantly.

"What?"

"That night, in the campground," Hermione hesitated, looking a little embarrassed. "Did... Did I see you use two wands?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure. Why?"

Hermione gaped at him. She'd been so sure she had been wrong, that somehow he was doing something else. "But... but that's impossible!"

"Uh... No it's not?" Xander countered, confused.

"You can't use two wands, Xander." Hermione lectured, "It's well recorded that matched wands conflict badly with other wands."

"Oh, yeah, I know." Xander nodded, "My graphite wand works for anyone, though, about the same as it does for me. It's kind of a universal wand. Not as good as a matched wand, really, but a lot less finicky. Learned that while training with Chayton, come to think of it he looked pretty surprised too. Anyway, anyone can use one of my carbon wands like I did. No big deal."

Hermione slumped in her seat.

No big deal.

He had just destroyed one of the rules of magic, and it was no big deal.

What was he going to do next? Apparate into Hogwarts?

"You were able to use both in a real fight?" Wednesday asked mildly.

Xander shrugged, but nodded.

"I am impressed." She conceded.

"I can't aim for crap with my left hand, but I can shield a bit and use intent spells decently." Xander said.

Wednesday nodded, understanding. Shields and Intent spells were largely unaffected by the need to aim, since the former tended to simply protect a single spot relative to the wielder or wand, and the latter was actually targeted by the desire and intent of the caster. The spell literally was WILLED to hit, and usually did. For offhand use, they were the ideal starting points.

"You will be practicing your aim, of course?" She said, ordering more than asking.

Xander nodded, "Yeah. Have to, really. Chayton told me he'd string me up if I didn't improve over the winter."

"Excellent." Wednesday replied, "Rest assured, Alexander... Should he attempt to do so,"

"Yeah?" Xander glanced over, smiling curiously.

"I will aid him."

Xander pulled back, gulping. "Ah, right. K."

Threat delivered, Wednesday turned back to her own work.

Xander shifted uncomfortably, eyes flicking between his book and his companions, his focus now shattered.

Hermione was again lost in a turmoil of thought, ranging from the rules of magic to the plight of the Wizarding House Elf.

Wednesday, for her part, was once more delving into a book on an ancient ritual now banned as hopelessly dark. She'd been able to locate it deep in the restricted section of the library, where it had survived countless attempts to purge Hogwarts references of all things questionable.

In her first year, Wednesday had discovered that Hogwarts protected its knowledge as it did its students. Jealously and with extreme prejudice against those who would harm either. It was not always successful, but the old school never failed to try.

It was then that she knew she had made the right decision in coming there, and since then she had not been proven wrong.

For Harry James Potter, the return to Hogwarts normally signified something of a rebirth. In his mind, the old Castle was more than just his home. It was the place he'd shed his old life, the fantasy of a childhood he'd almost forgotten. In effect, it was everything he'd ever been afraid to wish for when living at the Dursleys.

This year, however, he had a few things weighing on his mind.

For one, well for more than one if he were to be honest, this whole Knight thing was a totally mind twisting concept. It had made him realize, even more than he had before, that he knew nothing of his family. Forget, just for a moment, his Mum and Dad. He knew nothing of the Potter's, or the Evans.

NOTHING!

He wasn't even sure how that was possible! Four years into his life in the Magical world, and he'd learned more about his magical heritage from an AMERICAN than any of his parent's friends had ever told him. On the muggle side of things, he'd spent his entire life in a house with his Aunt, and never heard her say more than a few words about her own family.

Not even to Dudley.

Harry just didn't know what to think of it all. On the one hand, it did seem a little farfetched that no one would speak of his family to him, but on the other hand seeing a conspiracy in the events seemed even harder to believe.

In the end, he supposed that he had only himself to blame. While he had hungered for information about his parents, he hadn't actively pursued it with anyone except for Hagrid and the Headmaster. Hagrid, bless him, wasn't except the most reliable of people as Harry well knew and occasionally took advantage of, and the Headmaster… Well, sometimes the less said there the better. This seemed to be the headmaster's motto, in Harry's opinion.

So, really, it was his fault and he had to own up to it. He had more information now, at least, and was slowly digging through it all. Much of the data from Gringotts was dry as the Sahara, of course, but even it told a story.

His father had been well enough off to not need to work at anything he didn't enjoy, some would say he didn't need to work at all in fact. Harry wasn't sure of that, a few million pounds sounded like a lot, but when you had a family to think of into the next generation and beyond, he didn't think that wasting money for no reason was the way to go.

And, so too thought his parents, as far as he could tell. His father had been an Auror, one of the youngest Master Aurors ever before his death. Of course, this was during a time of war, so promotions were quick to be had. His Mother, she had been a researcher it seemed. Harry wasn't sure, the details on her work were pretty much unavailable.

What it all spelled out, though, was just how ignorant he really was. It was, sadly, not an unusual revelation for Harry. He still remembered the humiliation he felt when his teacher realized that he couldn't read properly at age nine.

She couldn't have known why, but then even he didn't really understand why until he'd met Hermione. He was entirely self-taught in many aspects of his education, not because the teachers hadn't tried but because you could only learn so much in class. Most of your real education as a child was from the time you spent living and playing with your peers, watching TV, even reading borrowed books from the library. These were all things that Harry had never had.

He'd worked damned hard since then to fill in that gap, and yet at age 10 it became clear that his mathematics knowledge was similarly crippled. So he spent that year using a smuggled pencil to scribble out the multiplication tables on the wall of his cupboard over and over until he had them down and moved on to the next step.

Since coming to the magical realm Harry had determined that he wasn't drowning in an ocean that his peers had already learned to swim in, and he'd been satisfied with his results. Certainly he was far from the worst in the school, normally his marks were significantly higher than Ron's after all and Ron wasn't failing or anything.

And now what does he find out? Xander has been inventing magical stuff for almost the entire three years he'd been here, despite not having marks any better than his own! If it weren't for the Marauder's Map and the Coven Grimoire, Harry would have let it pass though. His parents had more in common with an American than they did with him.

It was another one of those moments that Harry had come to associate with the word 'watershed', a point in his life where he knew that he had to make a change, or he wouldn't be able to look himself in the mirror again. He fancied himself as one of the best in his year in Defence Against the Dark Arts, the best in practical to be clear, and only just behind Hermione in terms of knowledge. And yet he'd been totally outclassed by the performance of Xander at the fight in the campground, or at least that's how he felt.

Harry sighed.

He was starting to sound like Ron now, and not in any of Ron's good aspects either. He pushed down that sort of thinking, knowing that it would do him no good to be jealous of someone who had worked to achieve what they had. If he wanted to redeem himself in his own eyes, he just had to get to work.

First, though, he needed to see if he could get a little help and so he pulled out the Marauder's Map and quickly located his quarry.

Xander thought that he really needed to look into enchanting books.

Finding his ideas in the chicken scratch of his notebooks was just getting to be insane. He'd just realized that it was becoming disheartening, trying to find the stuff he'd thought were great ideas just a few months earlier.

He was still puzzling over that when Harry came quietly over to the table he shared with Hermione and Wednesday.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione smiled, "Can I help you with anything?"

"Uh, no Hermione, actually I wanted to speak with Xander." Harry said, looking a little nervously.

Xander looked up, surprised, and even Wednesday looked up from her book with what passed for surprise on her face.

"Sure." Xander shrugged, "What's up mate?"

Harry sighed, taking a seat, "I need some help."

"This is hardly news." Wednesday replied dryly.

Hermione shot her a dirty look while Xander smothered a snicker, but Harry looked about ready to curl up and try and hide in his own shadow.

"What's wrong, Harry?"

Harry sighed, obviously steeling himself. He really wasn't the sort who liked to ask for help, it was one of the things he had in common with Ron, to be truthful.

"Do you think you could practice with me sometime?" Harry asked, looking across as Xander. "I mean, dueling and stuff."

Xander was a little surprised, but only a little. Harry had been hit with a lot of stuff in the past few weeks, and he guessed that this was just the results of all of it now coming to the surface. He shrugged, "I guess. We'd have to find a place, though."

Harry frowned, but nodded. "An old classroom? There are tons of them."

"Yeah, maybe." Xander shrugged, thinking about his recent conversation with Hermione, "You know what, let's ask the Elves."

"Huh?"

"The Hogwarts Elves," Xander clarified, "They'll know if there's a good place, they've been here forever I think."

"Hardly forever, Xander." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Longer than all of us put together, which is close enough for me." Xander smirked back.

"Oh honestly."

Xander looked back at Harry, "you know, I'm no teacher, mate. You're going to have to work a lot harder than even I had to, to get this stuff, cause you're going to be doing it mostly on your own."

Harry nodded, "That's fine. I'm willing to work."

"Now that is a fact that surprises me." Wednesday made her second comment of the conversation.

"Wednesday," Xander smiled chidingly. "You hardly know the guy."

"How often have you seen him in the library, Alexander?" She calmly countered. "He is a prodigy, this I will not dispute. However I have yet to see him work for anything he has."

"Hey!" Harry growled, "I worked damn hard on my Patronus."

Wednesday eyed him for a long, tense moment. Then shrugged, "Perhaps. In any case, I wish you luck Alexander. I hope you don't need it."

With those words, Wednesday began to pack up her books. "For now, however, I have things to do. I'll see you tomorrow, Alex, Hermione. Good Day, Mr. Potter."

The trio watched as Wednesday walked away, Hermione looking embarrassed by the scene as Harry had flushed a little angrily.

"Is she always like that?" He asked in a quiet hiss.

Xander shrugged, "She's Wednesday."

That was all he said as he packed up his own books.

"Are you leaving?" Hermione asked, sounding worried.

"Going down to the kitchens." He said, "Let's see if we can't find an old dueling room or something."

Harry nodded and got up quickly as Hermione looked torn between them and her books.

Xander smiled, "Don't worry about it. We'll let you know what we find out."

She nodded, relieved. She really had a lot more to do, and didn't want to get behind in her school work because of her side projects. She watched the two leave before turning back to her research in House Elves.

The way to the kitchens was clear, though Xander checked it carefully against his map as they went. Harry noted it and shook his head.

"So it's true, you made one of those last year."

Xander nodded, "Yeah. Useful."

"I know, I've got my Dad's." Harry admitted.

Xander smirked, "Yeah. I know."

Harry chuckled a bit, "You know, I know, huh? At the start of first year if you'd told me I'd be sneaking around Hogwarts with a Slytherin I'd have thought you were bonkers."

"At the end of first year, I wouldn't have been sure you weren't bonkers anyway." Xander replied, then mused thoughtfully, "You know, I'm not sure you're not even today. You sure do manage to get in some insane spots."

"That's not my fault!" Harry hissed defensively.

"Yeah, yeah." Xander chuckled. "Here we are. The kitchens."

Harry rolled his eyes, but checked around for anyone watching as Xander unsealed the door and they slid inside.