When Morals and Rules Clash

Draco let out a short, mocking laugh: "That's our house-elf. Mudblood doesn't even know that, does she? It was born to serve the Malfoy family."

Caesar's brow furrowed, his gaze shifting to Draco, a sharp displeasure radiating from his eyes.

"Draco!" Narcissa Malfoy whispered a warning.

She didn't see anything wrong with her son's address to Hermione; she was merely wary of Caesar, so there was little genuine reproach in her eyes. If it were only Hermione, a Muggle-born witch, Draco could do whatever he pleased with her, but clearly, Caesar was willing to stand up for this Mudblood.

Lucius tapped the ground lightly with his serpent-headed cane, commanding the elf at his feet with a trace of impatience:

"Dobby, step back. Don't block the way, and don't frighten... the guests with your ugly appearance."

The elf named Dobby shuddered in terror, his large eyes instantly filling with tears.

He scrambled backward, nearly shrinking into the shadow of the wall, letting out a faint, tearful whimper:

"Yes, yes, Master! Dobby is wrong! Dobby is a bad elf!"

Hermione's brow furrowed tightly.

She didn't understand what "Mudblood" meant, so she paid it little mind.

But seeing Dobby's terrified state, a strong wave of discomfort and sympathy surged within her.

She couldn't comprehend why anyone would treat a living, clearly emotional being this way.

She looked up at Caesar, seeking an answer: "Why are they treating it like that? It seems so scared!"

Caesar glanced down at Hermione, seeing the pure confusion and a hint of righteous indignation in her eyes. The hand resting on her shoulder tightened slightly, both a comfort and a reminder.

He didn't answer Hermione's question immediately. Instead, he looked up at Lucius Malfoy, his tone still steady but carrying an unmistakable finality to end the conversation:

"A child's thirst for knowledge is always strong. Apologies, Mr. Malfoy, but we still need to purchase a wand for Hermione. Excuse us."

Caesar made no comment on the house-elf's plight, but that calm demeanor itself, in Lucius's eyes, was a silent stance.

Lucius narrowed his eyes and forced a fake smile: "Of course, go ahead. We also need to order Draco's new robes. Let's go."

His last words were directed at his wife, son, and Dobby, his tone icy.

The Malfoy family swaggered away, Dobby trotting behind them, glancing back at Hermione secretly.

That look was incredibly complex, a mix of gratitude, curiosity, and deep sorrow.

Only after they had gone did Hermione eagerly tug at Caesar's sleeve: "Caesar, who were those people, and that Dobby..."

Caesar stopped, looking at Hermione with deep, thoughtful eyes:

"Hermione, the wizarding world isn't just the gleaming cauldrons and flying broomsticks you see before you. It also has ancient, even dark traditions and rules. House-elves are one of them."

He paused, choosing a more tactful but clear enough way to explain:

"They have magical contracts with some old wizarding families, serving them for generations. In the eyes of most wizards, this is simply how things are."

"But that kind of contract is immoral," Hermione blurted out, her small face showing some hesitation. "They get scared, they get sad. Right now, they're treated like objects."

Caesar looked at the girl before him, who hadn't even entered school yet but was already crying out against inequality, a deeply complex emotion flickering in his eyes.

Indeed, even if Hermione possessed negative traits like pride, a sense of superiority, and rigidity, the core of this little girl was pure kindness.

"I recall you being a rule-following girl," Caesar said, neither directly affirming nor denying Hermione's words. He simply ruffled her brownish-yellow hair and explained calmly:

"In this world, everyone has their own moral code and principles, all different, but there's only one set of rules that governs how it runs.

Our personal morals will inevitably clash with the world's operating rules. If everyone broke the rules for the sake of their own morality, wouldn't there be no rules at all?"

Hermione fell silent.

In the original story, the early Hermione was a stubborn dogmatist.

When personal morality conflicted with rules, she always chose the latter, which often put her at odds with Harry and Ron's actions.

But later, through her interactions with the main group, Hermione gradually grew.

She went from complete adherence to rules to changing them according to her own moral compass.

For example, after becoming Minister of Magic, she chose to push for house-elf reform—a sign of great wisdom.

But for now, this little girl had yet to show the bearing of a future Minister of Magic.

"Let me tell you a story."

Then, Caesar released his grip on Hermione's hand and snapped his fingers. In an instant, they appeared in a secluded place. His voice was low and calm as he continued:

"This is a story about law, suffering, and redemption."

Hermione immediately stood up straight and nodded vigorously.

"Many years ago, in a distant, non-magical town, there lived a young woodcutter named Donn."

As Caesar narrated, a moving image appeared before Hermione:

In the biting cold of winter, a dilapidated hut. Donn's wife and five gaunt children huddled in a corner, the hearth cold, with no food left.

"He searched for every job, begged every possible employer, but found nothing. The children didn't even have the strength to cry from hunger."

Caesar's voice was very calm, yet carried a heavy weight.

"In that freezing night, he walked past the only bakery in town.

In the window, the golden loaves of bread gave off an enticing aroma, an aroma that cut through his heart like a knife."

Hermione held her breath, sensing what was coming.

"He picked up a stone from the roadside and smashed the window. He didn't take any money, didn't touch any precious silverware, only grabbed one—just one loaf of bread."

Caesar paused, his gaze sharp as a torch on Hermione. "Then, he was caught by the constable who arrived upon hearing the commotion."

"For just one loaf of bread?" Hermione's voice trembled with disbelief.

"For just one loaf of bread," Caesar confirmed. "The judge strictly followed the code in his verdict: violent theft, egregious circumstances, sentenced to fifteen years of hard labor."

Hermione gasped, her face turning pale.

"In the dark mines, on the freezing prison ships, he spent the youngest fifteen years of his life.

His once diligent hands became rough and numb, his once warm heart, under countless unjust beatings and humiliations, gradually froze into a block of ice.

He no longer believed in justice, only in power. He no longer believed in kindness, only in hatred.

To him, the law was not a shield protecting the weak, but a wheel crushing the poor."

"How tragic..." Hermione murmured.

Theft? That was clearly wrong.

But what if it was to keep a child from starving?