Chereads / Hogwarts:Bloodline Wizard / Chapter 597 - I Won't Eat This Crispy Pie Even If You Kill Me!

Chapter 597 - I Won't Eat This Crispy Pie Even If You Kill Me!

After Ivan's explanation, Hermione nodded in satisfaction.

Harry tried hard not to laugh. He knew that Ivan's treatment of Dobby was only slightly better than nothing.

Nearly Headless Nick's eyes went wide and his body shook in mid-air. He refused to believe Ivan's claim.

"Wages and holidays are an insult to house-elves… they just love to work!" Nick added, muttering.

"No creature is born to work!" Hermione declared, glaring at Nick.

"They must have been forced into it by wizards. Didn't Ivan's house-elf, Dobby, get paid and holidays? What if we…"

"Dobby is a very special house-elf, Hermione!" Ivan interrupted, looking at her seriously as he continued.

"I always respected Dobby's wishes. He wanted wages and holidays, so I gave it to him! I also respected the wishes of other house-elves!"

Hermione's words caught in her throat, and it took her a moment to stammer out a retort. "But that's…that's not what they really think…who wouldn't want a freer life?"

Having met Winky and Kreacher before, she was well aware of the elf-house-elf's morbid notion of "slave", although she believed that it was the result of prolonged servitude to their masters and should be corrected!

"Freedom?" Ron scoffed, chomping down on his custard pudding as he added, "Those house-elves would be horrified if you actually talked to them about freedom!"

As he spoke, Ron took another swig of orange juice, smacked his lips, and said, "And, Hermione…what are you worrying about? Wouldn't it be better like this?"

"Of course it's bad! I can't believe our convenient life at Hogwarts was built on the suffering of house-elves!" Hermione exclaimed, setting down her knife and fork.

The thought of dinner being made by an exploited house-elf was too much for Hermione.

Seeing that the little witch was planning to starve for the night, Ivan tried to dissuade her. "There's no need for this, is there, Hermione? Even if you wanted to make a difference, you'd have to take it one step at a time, wouldn't you?"

"That's the first thing I'm going to do!" she said firmly.

Ivan shrugged, but did not try to persuade him otherwise. Instead, he slowly picked up a sweet-scented treacle tart and put it in his mouth.

The pie was crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. It was fragrant and thick with syrup. The sweetness was just right, but not too greasy.

"They're as good as ever after a summer!" Yvonne exclaimed, slurping her food and placing a piece of shortbread on Hermione's plate. "You sure you don't want some?"

Hermione pursed her lips, her stomach empty after an afternoon on the train.

In the end, however, the little witch bit her tongue and pushed the plate away from her, glaring at Ivan as if he were some sort of anti-discriminator.

"Well, I think you've all had enough to eat!" Dumbledore exclaimed as he rose to his feet an hour later, waving his wand as he had done at the beginning of the feast.

"Looks like you're going to starve all night!" Ivan whispered.

"I'd rather starve than eat something made from elf slave labor!" Hermione shot him an angry look.

On the stage, Dumbledore's mouth twitched as he apparently heard Hermione's words, but he pretended to be unaware of them as he regurgitated the lessons of the new school year.

Its main purpose was to remind new students not to go into the Forbidden Forest and to ban the use of dangerous magical "toys" in the castle.

At this point, Dumbledore cast an indiscreet glance in George and Fred's direction, as he had received many complaints from Filch in the past two years.

George and Fred looked guilty under Dumbledore's intense gaze. They exchanged a glance and decided that they would be more discreet about selling toys in the future.

Dumbledore scanned the room briefly, then turned his attention back to the young wizards in the Great Hall, making an important announcement.

"On top of that, I regret to inform you that there will be no more Quidditch games at Hogwarts this year!"

"Why?" Harry's eyes went round with shock and he nearly knocked over the candle stand.

The other Quidditch players did the same, and there was a great deal of chatter around the long tables of the four Houses, many of them glancing anxiously at Dumbledore, waiting for his reply.

Dumbledore raised his hand and gestured for silence, clearing his throat before speaking again. "That is because a large-scale event, which will begin in October and continue throughout the school year, has taken up so much of the teachers' time and attention… we have had to make some adjustments!"

"But I'm sure you'll all enjoy it. I'm very pleased to announce that this year at Hogwarts…"

Dumbledore's booming voice echoed throughout the Great Hall, but was interrupted by the sound of a rapid banging on the door.

The young wizards in the Great Hall turned to look, even Ivan.

They watched as an elderly wizard stood at the door, holding a long walking stick and wearing a black travelling cloak.

His legs didn't seem to be working very well, and he was hobbling along, his walking stick hitting the floor with a loud thud. The Great Hall fell silent at his arrival, except for the sound of the storm and thunder outside.

In an instant, another bolt of lightning flashed across the sky.

In a blinding flash, the old wizard threw back his hood and shook out his long, thin, grey hair, revealing his terrible, scarred face.

The most striking feature was his eyes, which were disproportionately large and small.

The normal black eye stared straight ahead at Dumbledore on the stage, while the other strange blue eye was swiveling in all directions, scanning everyone on the stage.

As the man approached, there was a collective gasp, and Harry and Ron flinched, as the young wizards in front of them shuffled their chairs.