House-Elf Education Plan

Winky hesitated for a moment, then slowly moved towards the two of them, her slender fingers fiddling with the corner of her apron.

Speaking of the abandoned House-elf Winky's actions over the past month, the other House-elf simply assumed she was trying to return to her former owner, enduring humiliating wages and holidays while suffering the torment of being with the House-elf, the traitor named Dobby—

He used his dirty wages to buy gloves, socks, candy, and even hid his identity to be dragged to the Hog's Head for a drink.

Even the House-elf in the crampedest shops of Hogsmeade would sing praises of Winky loyal Gilgamesh. Had they suffered such humiliation and torment, they would have long since chopped off their own heads and burned them as firewood in their master's fireplace.

But only Winky herself knows the truth.

Admittedly, the period before was very difficult. She couldn't sleep every night, and the tears she shed in one night were enough to soak her pillow.

She became a disgrace to her ancestors, who had worked for Mr. Crouch since her mother's generation. In her own generation, she was not only kicked out of the house, but now she had been reduced to receiving shameful pay and accepting holidays that symbolized laziness.

During the day, while working in the Kitchen, she worried about the strange looks from the other House-elf. Whenever more than three House-elf gathered together and whispered, she felt that their chattering voices were scorning her...

But those days lasted less than a week before she learned that the other House-elf admired her, considering her loyal and reliable, and that she was willing to endure such terrible and painful humiliation in order to return to her former master.

At this point, the gazes of the other House-elf were no longer unbearable, and Winky even began to enjoy this admiration and respect.

Later, she received her first paycheck in her life. Taking advantage of the weekend, Dobby took her to Elegant Wizarding Apparel and bought her beautiful gloves and socks. They also went to the Hog's Head and spent money on a Butterbeer, which Dobby said was the favorite drink of noble little wizards...

Actually, she can do it too, and her skills are much better than the owner of the Hog's Head.

However, compared to the cheap Butterbeer I made myself, the flavor was completely different from the one I bought with my wages.

In that dilapidated bar, stained with years of dirt and filled with the smell of filth, the bubbly Butterbeer fell from the tongue into the stomach, sour, slightly bitter, and only upon careful tasting could one discern a hint of sweetness.

She seemed to taste the freedom that Dobby had described.

Seeing Winky with his head down and silent, Hermione asked anxiously, "What do you think, Winky?"

Winky looked up at the two of them, then lowered her head again and said in a timid voice, "As long as I can go back to my master, Winky Winky do anything."

"..."

Hermione looked frustrated.

Loren nodded noncommittally. "But in my opinion, your behavior is unacceptable."

Winky's face turned pale.

"We agreed that you would negotiate your wages with Headmaster Dumbledore or Deputy Headmaster McGonagall yourself, but you had Dobby negotiate for you... You have to be punished for making a mistake."

Loren looked at the House-elf in front of him, his tennis ball-sized eyes gradually welling up with tears, as if he might cry at any moment, "Therefore, the deadline we agreed on will be extended by six months, until the end of the school year. During these six months, you will still have to Dobby the same things as Dobby. If you perform well, I will let you return to Crouch family before the End-of-Year Feast."

Hermione and Dobby looked at Winky expectantly.

Winky paused for a moment, the tears in her eyes gradually disappeared, and she stood there blankly, not knowing what to say.

She was unwilling to admit it, but a shameful sense of smug satisfaction had actually arisen within her.

After a few seconds of silence, Winky replied softly, "I... I understand."

"Oh..."

Loren stretched and walked along the path that Winky had taken them back to. The Kitchen was filled with the aroma of thick soup, and the fireplace was burning warmly. He had given Winky a long lecture, which made Shining a little sleepy.

Hermione glanced at Dobby and Winky whispering behind her, then looked away and pursed her lips:

"Professor Morgan really has a way with things."

"You can no longer call me professor, call me mentor."

"If we drag this out until the end of the school year, how are you going to convince Mr. Crouch then?"

Loren rested his chin on his hand and thought for a moment, "Who knows? We'll see when the time comes. The world is always full of surprises."

"..." Hermione paused for a moment, knowing that this person was not telling the truth, but she did not intend to ask further. "Morgan has already mentored Winky, and Dobby does not need mentoring. What about Winky? What do you plan to do?"

Winky was walking behind, hurriedly said, "Winky thinks everything is fine as it is, Miss Granger, there's no need for you to worry!"

"Winky ..." Loren was amused by his panicked appearance. "Don't worry, I won't force you to do anything you don't want to do, but there is something I would like to ask you."

"Oh, yes, I mean, Mr. Morgan, just give me your instructions."

"As you know, Ilvermorny is also participating in this year's Triwizard Tournament of Goblet of Fire. Ilvermorny is from a magic school in United States, and I need to learn about the history and culture of that country, but there are too many books and too much information to sort through."

Mai asked in confusion, "How can I help you?"

"I would like you to consult relevant books and materials to clarify the major historical events that have occurred in that country since the 15th century, as well as the racial evolution and cultural development on that continent."

Hermione blinked, her eyes sparkling.

"What race...culture..." Winky's head was spinning, and it took him a long time to understand what Loren meant. He was completely dumbfounded.

What are these words? They're so hard to pronounce, and they have absolutely nothing to do with what he used to do, like washing dishes and cooking.

"Don't worry about this. I'll send over the books and materials in a few days. You just need to write down the cause, development, result, and impact of each event in concise sentences..."

Loren looked at him with a gentle smile, "Have I made myself clear?"

Winky scratched her head blankly, her high-pitched voice lacking its usual firmness. "Winky doesn't know, Winky will do her best to complete Master's instructions."

As they spoke, they had already reached the Kitchen door. In the fruit bowl, a large, bright green pear was sleeping peacefully, its big belly gently moving up and down.

Loren stopped and turned around, rubbing the felt hat on its head. "It's not a difficult task, take your time, you'll understand."

Winky tilted her head back, the confusion in her eyes still lingering.

He will understand. Understand what?

Do you understand how to do this, or do you understand the meaning behind this?

The House-elf, who had spent his life performing simple manual labor, understood nothing, and perhaps he never would, but now, on this cold November night, he answered aloud:

"Yes, Mr. Morgan."

As December arrived, the weather grew increasingly cold, and howling north winds brought sleet to Hogwarts.

It's Monday, a new Monday.

The ordeal begins the moment I wake up in the morning.

The morning Care of Magical Creatures, and leaving the Castle to be exposed to the cold wind was also a kind of ordeal.

Although there was always a draft in the Castle during winter, the young wizards of Hogwarts were always grateful for the warm fireplaces and thick walls inside the Castle whenever they passed Durmstrang's ship moored on the lake.

The large ship rocked and swayed in the gale, its black sails billowing and dancing in the dark night sky.

"It must be freezing in Durmstrang's mobile home," everyone says.

The Care of Magical Creatures was even more grueling, leaving the young wizards feeling dizzy and disoriented after each lesson.

Hagrid continuously supplied the Madam Maxime with their favorite single malt whisky, and the paddock on the Edge of the Forbidden Forest became a temporary stable, with the strong smell of alcohol wafting from the feed troughs, mixed with the stench of Blast-Ended Skrewts, horse manure, and rotting hay fermenting together.

Attending class is like being tortured.

As the large boxes of Blast-Ended Skrewts matured, they became more aggressive and their desire to kill each other intensified, and in the end only ten survived.

Now each of them is nearly six feet long, with their thick gray protective layer, their powerful legs that swing wildly, their tails that constantly explode and breathe fire, and their spikes and suckers—all of which combined make the Blast-Ended Skrewts one of the most disgusting things the young wizards have ever seen.

"I'm not sure if they're hibernating, but let's try and see if they want to sleep... Let's put them in these boxes..."

Hagrid led the young wizards to put the Blast-Ended Skrewts into a box lined with hay pillows, closed the lid, and then—

The box exploded, scattering smoldering fragments across the ground, while ten Blast-Ended Skrewts rampaged through the pumpkin patch.

The two Divination Class in the afternoon were quite enjoyable.

They still had to draw Star Chart and make predictions, but Professor Trelawney's critiques of their assignments, filled with all sorts of absurd misfortunes and medical cases, kept the young wizards laughing non-stop.

That evening.

After taking a shower, Loren came downstairs in his pajamas and saw Hermione doing her homework on the table by the window. She had already written on the bottom half of the parchment with her quill pen and should be almost finished.

Ron and Seamus were striking the Gobstones in the fireplace, while Harry sat on the sofa, staring blankly at the crystal candlesticks hanging from the ceiling.

Loren walked over and plopped down on the sofa, causing it to sway. "Harry, so relaxed. Have you figured out the clues to the Golden Egg yet?"

"..." Harry glanced at him, his eyes filled with resentment, "During the Blast-Ended Skrewts riot this afternoon, you grabbed Hermione and ran into the hut, leaving us outside to fight those Blast-Ended Skrewts..."

"How was it? I ran fast, didn't I?"

"Well..."

Harry sighed softly. "Let's talk about the Golden Egg again, Loren. I've tried several methods, but every time I open it, it screams horribly. Do you have any suggestions?"

"You've learned the Bubble-Head Charm,' haven't you?"

"Huh? The Bubble-Head Charm?" Harry asked, puzzled. "I already knew it, but what does the Golden Egg have to do with the Bubble-Head Charm?"

"It's alright, I was just asking..." Loren adopted the air of Professor Morgan and said earnestly, "Don't always think about cheating. Try it yourself first. If you still can't solve it during the Christmas holidays, then I'll tell you."

"You look like Hermione right now..." Harry looked at him. "Mr. Bagman. Ludo Bagman said that cheating is a tradition in the Triwizard Tournament."

"That's right. I suggest you say the same thing in front of the Champion of Ilvermorny."

"..."

Harry's expression froze.

Pickley Gravis has been discharged from the hospital and is now attending classes with the seventh-year Gryffindor. Whenever they meet in the hallway or the Great Hall, Gravis's angry glare makes everyone nervous, and the other four Champion now avoid him.

Harry muttered under his breath, sounding unsure of himself. "I should have reminded Cedric as well."

"If you knew the secret of the Golden Egg, would you tell him?"

"This..." Harry hesitated for a few seconds, "Should... be...?"

"Tsk... you keep thinking."

Loren sat down next to the girl by the window, sniffing the air. The girl's freshly washed hair smelled so good.

He craned his neck to look at her assignment, which filled an entire sheet of parchment. "Hmm? Why is this Muggle Studies? I thought you were writing an assignment in Ancient Rune."

"I finished my Runes in class."

Hermione moved the parchment aside to dry the ink, dipped her quill in the inkwell, and began to write on the new parchment, saying slowly, "I told Professor Bubage about what you had Winky do, and she was very inspired, thinking that House-elf and United States slaves have many things in common..."

"This paper is not an assignment; it's a research project that my professor and I worked on together. If all goes well, it might be published in a Muggle Studies journal."

"Is it a Muggle Studies journal with even worse sales than the Quibbler, with every issue going unsold?"

Loren grabbed a strand of curly hair and played with it around his finger. The girl hadn't dried herself completely after her shower, so her hair was still damp.

"Muggle Studies is a niche field for most wizards, which is why the journals don't sell well," Hermione explained. "However, many wizards have noticed the role and influence of Muggle culture and are paying more and more attention to this field."

"Um."

"Have you sent the information for Winky yet?"

"Um."

"What era's documents were sent?"

"Um."

"Smack..."

Hermione slapped his hand away impatiently. "What era of historical materials did you send?"

"From the colonial period of the 16th century to the American Civil War... he probably wouldn't understand anything beyond that."

Why is it that something as simple as a strand of hair is so interesting?

Loren grasped at a strand of hair again and became engrossed in his research.

Late at night, in the Gryffindor Common Room.

Lights out had already passed, most of the Oil Lamp had been extinguished, leaving only one or two faint candlelights, and no more firewood was being added to the fireplace, with only a few glowing embers remaining, radiating warmth.

Harry stared at the Golden Egg on the table, a glimmer of wisdom in his eyes.

Loren's mention of the Bubble-Head Charm was definitely not a casual question; it must be related to the Golden Egg.

After pondering for a long time, he took a deep breath, squeezed his wand, cast the Bubble-Head Charm on himself, and resolutely opened the Golden Egg:

"Ah--"