"We want you to give free access to all students," Albus says with a friendly smile.
"Yeah, that's not going to happen," I reply just as friendly, smiling as I pour myself some tea and sniff it to ensure it's safe.
"But why?" Flitwick asks, outraged.
*'So much for smart people. Being book smart doesn't make you smart about life,'* I think, shaking my head internally.
"Well, first of all, because I don't want to. Second, I'm a firm believer that life isn't fair," I say.
"But we can make life fairer by redistributing resources fairly..." Albus begins.
"Yeah, that's not going to work. I was once a student of yours and saw how you applied your ideas. Telling the weak to bear with it and the strong to do their bullshit where they can get away with it," I say, looking directly into Albus's eyes.
"Albus, what is he talking about?" Minerva asks, but the old man just takes a sip of tea, looking out the window as if contemplating his life choices.
"It doesn't matter what I'm talking about. The point is, that I believe humans need to aspire towards something. They need to feel a need. Handing out free stuff might help in the short term, but what about the long term?" I ask.
"Well..." Sprout begins but stops, thinking it over.
"In the long run, those who put in the dedication and hard work will surpass those who didn't, even if the others had a head start in life," I simply give them the explanation, as I have Dunderheads waiting for me. Seeing how each one of them is a smart person they immediately grasp the fact that my Access Points don't solve the problem of students learning and training, just downloading the knowledge is not enough in the long run.
"So your Access Points give them knowledge, but they need to internalize it on their own to get the most benefit?" Flitwick asks excitedly.
"Exactly," I reply, amused at his excitement.
"Ingenious," he simply states.
"That's what I am," I say, shrugging. "The truth is, my Access Points make it easier to start and move forward, but their main purpose is not that! Their main purpose is to underline that these students are not equal. Not being equal isn't the problem—being unprepared is. And you lot do a pretty crap job of giving these students a reality check, and preparing them."
"Pardon me?!" McGonagall snaps, outraged.
I wait for her to explain, but she just glares at me, seething.
"We're all adults here, McG. We know the reality of the world outside, but these children grow up thinking that once they graduate, they'll face a just world. What do you think will happen when they realize that life isn't about working hard but that their heritage plays a much bigger role in our society than it has any right to? When they understand that their achievements don't necessarily translate into equal opportunities?"
"Isn't that even more reason to give them all the help we can?" Albus interjects, his voice full of concern.
"No," I reply firmly, "I believe that would only breed resentment towards society rather than solve the problem."
"Why?" asks Sprout, genuinely curious.
"It's simple," I explain, leaning forward. "If you give everyone the same opportunities without considering their merits, you'll end up with a bunch of angry, entitled people. But if you teach them from the start that life is unfair and that they'll have to work harder just because of their handicapped heritage, you'll breed a generation that understands the value of hard work. They'll know that even if life is rigged to fuck them over, effort can still make a difference."
"That sounds good in theory, but they're still children," Albus says, doubt lacing his tone.
"True," I concede, "which is why I'm giving them a taste of what it feels like to have access to those benefits," I smirk, seeing the dawning realization on their faces. They're starting to understand why the Potions Class is free.
"Life is either 'Hell Mode difficulty' or 'Pay to Win,'" I add, leaning back in my chair with a self-satisfied grin.
"What does 'Pay to Win' mean?" Flitwick asks, puzzled.
"It means being born with a silver spoon in your mouth," I reply, amused at their bewilderment.
"So, even if I offer to pay you for the subscriptions, you still won't agree to give access to everyone?" Albus asks, narrowing his eyes.
"Oh, I'd agree," I say with a smirk, "but are you sure you want to do that?"
"I am," Albus states, his voice resolute.
"Great, that'll be 36,000 Galleons for this year," I say casually, watching as the color drains from his face. That amount is well outside his budget, even with his considerable resources. He is already stretched thin simply by coughing up my pay, and now this extra burden!! It is simply impossible for him to pay.
"Why is it so much?" he asks, incredulous.
"Well, if you're doing it in the spirit of equality, Albus, I need you to pay for all the students, not just the poor ones. After all, equality isn't equity, is it?" I say, leaning forward, my eyes narrowing as I hold his gaze.
Albus's usual calm demeanor wavers, his eyes flickering with something that might be unease. "Why does it cost so much, Severus?"
"1 Knut per student per day. That's around 2.5-3 Galleons per day for all students," I reply, watching the color drain from his face as he does the mental math. "Add that up for a year, and you're looking at around 1,200 Galleons. And considering I offer 30 classes, well, that adds up quickly."
His face pales further as he stares at me, stunned. "So, the total would be...?"
"36,000 Galleons per year, give or take. It's not pocket change, Albus. Not even for someone as esteemed as you."
Albus stares at me, speechless. For all his wisdom, the old man still has his flaws, and they ruin his otherwise immaculate image.
"In all honesty, I think outright paying for everyone's access is a bad approach anyway. Instead, you should offer student jobs within Hogwarts—like polishing trophies, cleaning up unused classrooms, or tutoring younger students once or twice a week. Or you could tweak the House point system. Give students who behave exceptionally personal points they can redeem for additional resources. This way, everyone starts at the same point, but some will inevitably transact those points for real money or other benefits. There's simply no perfect system," I conclude, sipping my tea as we all fall into thoughtful silence.
No matter how they choose to act, I will get my due. Maybe I should make that my family motto—*The Prince's Will Always Get Their Due.* It has a nice ring to it, but perhaps I'll come up with something even better in time.