On the Saturday at the end of the first week of classes, Harry and Ginny took a walk out to the Quidditch pitch.

"Such a waste," Harry complained, as they looked down the length of the field. "I have a Firebolt, and it's just supposed to sit unused in my room the whole year. A Firebolt!"

Ginny shook her head. "It's criminal. It doesn't look like they're even using the pitch for anything."

He turned his head to her with a sudden grin. "Which means there's nothing stopping us from playing anyway."

"What?"

"Sure. Ron, Fred, and George would be up for it." His grin grew wider as another thought struck him, and he moved to stand facing her, putting his hands on her waist, causing her breath to hitch. "You could play! We just have to make sure your mother doesn't hear about it. We'll find a broom for you. The team has a couple of extras. Aren't you tired of breaking into your family's broom shed and having to fly in secret?"

Her eyes widened. "Count me in!" she said, bringing her hands up to give his forearms a squeeze.

Harry bounced on his toes as he continued to plan out loud. "I bet the rest of the Gryffindor team would be up for it too–everyone not picked for this Tournament thing, at least. I'll bet Angelina enters. Anyway, it would let us keep in practice, and try out new people for the future. Like you and Ron!"

"That's all great, but there's no way this stays a Gryffindor-only thing for long. Once the other teams find out, they're going to want to join. Or they'll hold their own practices."

"That's fine. I just want to fly. With you." He looked up at the sky. "I can forget the Quidditch Cup for one year, especially if it means you and Ron get to play."

"Let's head back to the common room and see who's around," she said, caught up in his enthusiasm. "We might be able to get a game going this afternoon."

He brought his eyes back to hers. "Race you back."

"You're on." She gave him enough of a shove to make him stagger, then took off at a sprint.

"That's cheating!" he accused, as he started to pursue her.

"Strategy!" she called back, without slowing down.

"If I catch you, you're getting the tickling of your life," he warned.

She laughed. "Promise to spank me too? Have to catch me first!"

~*~

When her Muggle Studies class ended, Hermione remained behind as the other students left. She made her way to the front of the room.

"Professor Burbage, can I get your opinion on something? It's about the wizarding world, but I'm having trouble making sense of it from a Muggle perspective. I thought you might be able to help me bridge the gap."

"Of course, Miss Granger. What's on your mind?"

"It's the whole issue of house-elves."

"Ah. Let me guess. You're wondering why so many otherwise decent people see no problem with keeping slaves? And why not even the slaves themselves object?"

"Exactly!" Hermione huffed out a breath. "Thank you."

"You're not alone in your objections, but I'm afraid I don't have any easy answers. We can't ignore the abuses, but at the same time, the elves sound sincere when they say they don't want the custom abolished."

"It strikes me as suspiciously convenient that an entire race wants nothing more than to live to serve us."

"Perhaps, but isn't the existence of magic itself suspiciously convenient? Though as far as that goes, there are other magical entities whose existence revolves around us in ways that are much less convenient–Dementors, for example."

"That doesn't seem the same at all. People keep offering comparisons and analogies to explain why it's not so bad, but I can't see how any of them fit."

"No? Is it inconceivable that just as Dementors have a natural drive to harm us, elves might have one to help us? Both species may consider the existence of humans suspiciously convenient for their purposes. And if our relationship with elves seems like exploitation by our standards, but an essential part of living a good life by theirs, which framework should we apply?"

"The Dementors at least get something out of their interactions with us. They're like parasites."

"By the elves' own account, they get a deep sense of satisfaction and fulfillment. If the Dementors are parasites, perhaps our relationship with elves is more symbiotic."

"But the elves don't actually need anything from us."

"Not for physical survival, no. I meant on an emotional level–at least when we treat them properly. They derive satisfaction from doing their work and doing it well, as an end in itself. That attitude is not so alien to human experience. Consider artists and craftsmen, or indeed anyone who takes pride in their work. And religious traditions often emphasize the importance of service to others."

"Yes, to the poor and hungry, not to the wealthy and privileged."

Burbage inclined her head, acknowledging the point. "True. But the elves also take pleasure from their relationship with humans, as asymmetric as it may be. House-elves deprived of this soon grow depressed."

"That's not the same as getting a regular paycheck."

"Are you sure? Powerful emotions can work powerful magic, and elves are magical creatures. They may have their own notions of what counts as useful currency. There was a Muggle psychologist named Abraham Maslow who talked about a hierarchy of human needs. This is often represented as a pyramid, with physical needs at the base, with more psychological or spiritual needs appearing as you move upwards. I sometimes find it useful to think about how different the pyramid might look for other magical species."

"Even if the differences are natural and not something humans coerced them into believing, it doesn't give us the right to exploit them."

"Certainly not. If anything, it places an ethical burden on us to protect them. It's easy to see that abusing them is wrong. A harder question is whether freeing them against their wishes would be for their benefit, or merely make us feel better."

"It wouldn't necessarily be against their wishes. I know of one house-elf who was happy to gain his freedom, and chose to keep it."

Burbage blinked in surprise. "You've seen this firsthand?"

"Well, my friend Harry did. He sort of tricked the elf's master into setting him free, but he had good cause. Harry and the elf are friends now, but not bonded or whatever."

"I've never heard of such a thing. You must realize the things that happen around Mr Potter are not… typical, even by the standards of magic?"

"Yes," Hermione sighed, "all too aware. But this elf's masters were abusing him, and he started to rebel against them before Harry got involved."

Burbage grimaced. "As I said, the abuses are real. The Ministry has laws against it, though I don't know how much effort goes into enforcing them. Not enough. And the universal wish elves have to be of service doesn't justify their lack of choice in whom they serve."

"I'm not sure where we disagree then," Hermione said.

"The first issue is the need to eliminate abuse. On this much, we agree. The second is the work they do for us, for which they receive little if any compensation in our terms, but which they find intrinsically rewarding. The third is independence, and the thorny question of forcing it on any who don't want it."

"It might take them a while to get used to independence, but it would solve the first two issues."

"That's where we differ. I'm not so sure they'd ever get used to it, and they don't see the issue of the lack of pay as an issue. They derive satisfaction from service, and from making a commitment to service, in ways we probably can't fully grasp. Certainly not if we insist on seeing them as humans in different bodies."

"I've heard that last part from other people, but I can't see how it matters. Looking different on the outside doesn't say anything about who someone is on the inside."

"Have you ever read any wizarding children's stories?"

Hermione blinked at the abrupt change of topic. "Er, no, I can't say as I have."

"In the Muggle world, children's stories often feature anthropomorphic animals. Such creatures seldom appear in stories written for magical children, as young readers would find it too confusing. If an animal in a story acts like a human, the obvious conclusion would be that it's actually an Animagus, or a wizard using some other form of human-to-animal Transfiguration."

"I'm afraid I don't see the connection."

"In the Muggle world, the only beings with human-level intelligence are humans, or fictional non-human characters whose motivations and values are still essentially human. But the actual magical world we live in is not an allegory. When you hear about house-elves, you empathize, and think how awful it would be to find yourself in that situation, even with a kind master, humane working conditions, and decent pay. Elves simply do not see things the same way. They find your view as incomprehensible as you find theirs."

Hermione said, "You know of course that people have used arguments about differences in mentality to justify the practice of human slavery."

Burbage nodded. "I do, but elves are not a different race, though we sometimes refer to magical races when speaking loosely. They're a different species. They have different magic and physiology. Why not different psychology as well? Consider the difficulty they have in using grammatical persons other than third, despite having no trouble understanding us when we use first or second person. The few scholars who have studied elf psychology agree that this says something significant about their understanding of themselves, though there is less agreement about what."

"I assumed that was due to a lack of proper education."

"That wouldn't explain why the phenomenon is so universal. More to the point, elves don't require arguments or studies to convince them the role they play in society is what's best for them. They're already convinced."

"As I said, I've seen an exception."

"It's important to consider every individual, but you must also consider the typical case. A truly compassionate ethical system needs to take both into account."

"What do we do then? If only for the exceptions?"

"As I said, I don't have any simple answers. Genuine moral dilemmas are often like that. If someone offers you easy answers, there's a good chance they want your vote, or your money, or both."

"At this point, I'll take any answer of how to make things better, no matter how hard it is. I can't accept that the differences between us means we have the right to take advantage of them."

"Nor do I. Being different doesn't mean being lesser. In fact, one could conclude these differences impose an ethical imperative on us to protect them, but in ways they would accept and agree to."

"But what do we do?"

"A good first step might be to make the Hogwarts model universal, so every elf has the option of freedom, ideally with a support system to find new homes for any who wish to serve a different master. And of course, there needs to be better enforcement of proper treatment for those who choose to remain where they are."

"A friend of mine suggested something like the first part of that. I still can't understand why anyone would choose anything other than freedom, unless someone has deceived or manipulated them."

"Humans sometimes choose to constrain their own future actions through voluntary agreements such as marriages or business contracts. But marriages may be dissolved through divorce, and there are limits on what types of contracts can be considered legally valid. Perhaps these models could provide useful insights into how to reform the house-elf system. Though magic complicates matters by allowing the formation of contracts which are binding in ways beyond the merely legal."

"You've given me a lot to think about, but… I don't know, it still seems wrong to allow the practice to continue at all."

"Yes, it seems wrong by our standards. We should listen to our moral intuitions, but also realize they may not always be correct. Is it more important to do what feels right to us, or to respect the elves' own wishes? Can we be certain our worldview is superior to theirs? Certain enough to impose it on them against their wishes? I fear you're going to have a hard time adapting to the magical world if you can't accept the existence of intelligent entities who are radically Other, not just in physical form, but also in worldview."

"But why don't more people even see it as a problem by human standards?"

"People who grow up in the wizarding world find it natural for different types of Beings to have different thought processes. I wish I could spend more time in class on different worldviews, rather than focusing solely on technology. Unfortunately, when I try to slip in too much of that, it draws push-back from more traditional parents. But that's a whole other topic."

"What you said about offering every elf a choice would certainly be an improvement. I have to think a lot more about all the rest, and I've already taken up enough of your time. Thank you, Professor."

"You're quite welcome, Miss Granger. I'm always happy to make time for thoughtful discussion. Speaking of which, please do spend more time listening to the elves talk about they want, if only to avoid doing more harm than good. And if you ever find yourself in a position to profoundly alter the circumstances of even one elf, let alone all of them, be sure to get their agreement first."

"I will." She gave Burbage a quick smile and nod, then started towards the door.

"One other thing, Miss Granger."

Hermione turned back.

"You may need to temper your expectations, at least in the short term. I don't want to discourage you, but significant changes may prove difficult in the current political climate."

Hermione was silent for a long moment, then said in a quiet but firm voice, "Then the political climate will just have to change."

"There's a Muggle expression about the most productive attitude to take towards a difficult, long-term struggle. The most succinct version is: pessimism of the intellect, optimism of the will."

"I like that. Thank you again, Professor."

Burbage nodded. "Good day, Miss Granger."

~*~

On the following Saturday afternoon, Hermione and Neville found they had the common room mostly to themselves, aside from a group of younger students playing Gobstones in a corner. Harry and the Weasleys were off playing a pickup Quidditch game, and many other Gryffindors had gone along to play or spectate.

While Hermione and Harry had put aside their argument about house-elves, things had remained strained between her and Neville, their friendship having been less well-defined to start with.

Hermione considered burying herself in a book, but forced herself to strike up a conversation. "Hello, Neville. I don't usually see you here on weekends."

"I have as much right to be here as you do," he told her.

"What? Of course you do."

"Even though you think my Gran and I are terrible people?"

"I don't think that, and I'm sorry if that's how it sounded. Would you mind talking about house-elves some more? I really want to understand how someone I actually think of as a good person could be okay with the whole thing. I promise to try to be less judgmental."

He looked at her warily. "I guess so. I spend a lot of time in the greenhouses, if you were wondering."

"What?"

"On weekends, I mean. That's why you don't see me here. The way I answered before was rude, and I apologize."

His somewhat oddly formal manner gave her pause, but she said, "Oh. Don't worry about it. So anyway, it's possible I haven't been paying enough attention to what the elves actually want, rather than what I think they should want. I plan to speak with the Hogwarts elves again, but I'd also like to know more about the elves who work for families. Can you tell me about… Tilpy, was it?"

"Yeah, Tilpy. What do you want to know?"

"What her life is like, I guess."

"She manages the household."

"You mean under your grandmother's orders?"

He frowned. "Sort of, but not in a rigid way. Elves are clever enough at interpreting orders to find a way to work around any they disagree with strongly enough."

"Why do people keep them then, if the relationship is so adversarial?"

"It's not, unless people make it that way. Most disagreements are over the best way to run the household. The elf almost always turns out to be right, so you might as well let them do it their way in the first place. Gran always taught me you have to be an idiot to get on an elf's bad side. You treat them well, and earn their loyalty, or sooner or later they find a way to make trouble. But if you make friends with them, there's no one more loyal. That's why we trust them in our homes, at Hogwarts, at St Mungo's… I don't see why you have such a problem with this. Don't people still have servants in the Muggle world?"

"Servants who can quit and go work somewhere else!" She took a breath and let it out. "Sorry, I'm trying to discuss this more calmly."

"It's okay. You're right. Elves can get trapped in a bad situation, but I don't think it's common. You have to be a truly awful person to mistreat an elf. And it usually doesn't work out well for people like that in the long run."

"That doesn't help the elf in the short run."

"No, it doesn't. I don't know what the answer is. Aside from Harry's friend Dobby, most house-elves are horrified at the idea of being given clothes."

"I don't know what the answer is either, but I have ideas." She gave him a hesitant smile. "Thank you for talking to me about this. Sorry about last time."

"I know you meant well. You generally do. Not only that, but you try to do something about it. That's what we're here for, after all–to learn to use magic to fight for what's right."

"I like to think magic is good for more than fighting. And there are other ways to make the world better than by fighting magical duels."

"I hope so." He looked down, and quietly added, "Otherwise I'm not sure what I'm doing here, being practically a Squib and all."

"You're not a Squib. Hogwarts never would have admitted you. Ollivander wouldn't even have been able to match you with a wand."

"Uh, he didn't."

"What do you mean? You have a wand."

"I'm using my father's wand. I never went to Ollivander's."

"What? Neville, you need your own wand! When I went, Mr Ollivander made a big deal about the wand choosing the witch."

"I don't think that's the problem. Even my accidental magic took forever to show. Besides, my Gran wouldn't like it. Using my dad's wand is meant to honor him."

"There you go, then. This is your chance to stand up for something you believe in. You're going to tell your grandmother there are better ways to honor your father's memory than by harming your education."

Neville shifted uncomfortably and said nothing.

"Sorry," she said. "Did I insult your family again? I didn't mean to. I'm still learning the customs and traditions here."

"Families pass down wands sometimes, but it's not a tradition in the way you mean it. It's just something she decided, and I never dared to argue. Even if I could convince her, I wouldn't be able to go to Ollivander's until the Christmas holiday, so there's no point in thinking about it until then."

"Well, you've gotten by so far, so I guess it can wait that long. But I'm not going to forget about this."

"I know," he sighed. "You don't give up when you set your mind on something."

"Thank you for noticing."

~*~

Inspired by Professor Burbage's remark about teaching different worldviews, Hermione went to the headmaster the next week with a meticulously worked-out proposal for a new Hogwarts class on the Cultures of Magical Beings. She'd started with a focus on elves, but then decided to include the other magical races that witches and wizards shared the magical world with, but too often looked down on, or just plain overlooked.

Dumbledore listened patiently while she explained why the class was absolutely essential for the good of magical society, but raised a hand to interrupt before she could launch into the syllabus she'd worked out.

"Miss Granger, you appear to be under the impression that I am at liberty to make unilateral changes to the Hogwarts curriculum. That is not so. The creation of a new class would be up to the Hogwarts Board of Governors."

"Oh! Well, I…" She looked down, shuffling through her notes.

"Besides which, what you propose is quite ambitious."

Hermione looked up. "Everyone keeps telling me the house-elf system is too big to take on. I have to be ambitious to even get started on the problem. How do I set up a meeting with the Board of Governors?"

"Even if they agreed to hear you, they tend to be rather averse to change. I fear they would pay little heed to your concerns. But when I said your proposal was ambitious, I did not mean you should do nothing. You might begin with something smaller, like a student-run club."

Hermione frowned. "I haven't had much luck getting people here to pay heed to my concerns either. I thought they might take a teacher more seriously."

"Perhaps you should focus less on persuasion for now, and more on providing information that people can judge for themselves. You could ask some of the Hogwarts elves to tell their own stories, as well as members of the other magical races." He smiled. "Who can say? You might even learn something new yourself, and wouldn't that be a fine thing?"

"Yes, sir," she answered dutifully, as she checked her notes again. "I guess a club could work as a start. It will take me a while to find speakers for all these topics."

"A formal syllabus is appropriate for a class, but less so for a club. I recommend you find out what potential club members might be most interested in, and work from there."

"But how can I be sure we cover everything thoroughly?"

"These topics are far too broad and complex to ever cover thoroughly. Focus on introducing people to perspectives they haven't considered, but may be open to. When you seek to unite people behind a common cause, you must be willing to give up a certain degree of control. I have struggled with that lesson myself over the years, more than I care to admit."

"But of course people are going to listen to you."

"Not as many as you might imagine. The more you try to use authority to compel people to do what you feel is right, rather than leading them to see things as you do, the more you risk that authority slipping away."

"I don't have any authority to begin with."

"You may find that people take your opinions more seriously as the founder of an officially recognized club. If nothing else, it would demonstrate your commitment."

"I hope so. Thank you for the suggestion. Does this mean you agree with me about the house-elves?"

"Not in all respects. I will not suspend the Hogwarts tradition of providing refuge to any house-elf who seeks it. Casting them out into the world to fend for themselves is no solution."

"I'm not asking for that. Just a change in the terms of their employment."

"If I tried to force them to accept wages, most would sooner leave than agree."

"But you'd be willing to offer wages to any who ask for them?"

"I would. I have some discretion over certain parts of the budget, such as upkeep of the castle. I agree we should do more to improve the situation of all house-elves, though I have trouble seeing what changes would be both welcomed by the elves, and politically feasible. Perhaps your club might come up with some ideas."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully.

Dumbledore said, "You must prepare yourself for a long struggle if you hope to bring about major reforms. It's one thing to know in your heart that you're right. Convincing others is another matter altogether."

"Professor Burbage told me something similar. I must seem awfully naive to both of you."

"The wizarding world would soon grow dreadfully stagnant without the flow of new ideas into our society, from those young enough not to have grown cynical, or our friends in the Muggle world, or those like you who have the benefit of both perspectives. I wish you the best in moving the world closer to your ideals. No, I will go further, and say I look forward to sitting like this with you again some day, to congratulate you on your successes."

"Thank you, sir. That means a lot, coming from you. I promise I'll do my best."

He smiled. "Ah. In that case, I look forward to seeing great things indeed. As long as you wield whatever power you may come to hold with the same compassion you show now, you won't go too far wrong."

The meeting ended, and Hermione headed back to the Gryffindor common room, where she set about recruiting members for her new club, starting with her friends.

Ginny said, "I'm not sure this is the best use of your time."

"I'm not too worried about lack of time," Hermione replied with a significant look.

"Alright, then it's not the best use of your focus and attention–not when there's a war to fight. By the time that's over, most of the people who would be vile enough to mistreat elves will be dead anyway."

"Violence doesn't solve anything, not in a lasting way. It doesn't make the underlying issues disappear. If we don't reform society, the same problems which led to the last war–and the one that's coming, if you're right–will lead to another one after that, sooner or later."

In the end, Ginny, Harry, Ron, and Neville agreed to join Hermione's club, but only after winning the concession that she would stop lecturing them about the issue of house-elves outside of club meetings.