Draco let out a short, mocking laugh. "That's our House-elf. Mudblood, don't you even know that? It was born to serve the Malfoy family."
Caesar frowned and turned his gaze to Draco, a sharp glint of displeasure in his eyes.
"Draco!" Narcissa Malfoy warned in a low voice.
She didn't think there was anything wrong with her son's way of addressing Hermione. She was simply wary of Caesar, so there was little genuine reproach in her eyes.
If Hermione had been the only Muggle-born witch, Narcissa wouldn't have cared what Malfoy did to her. But it was obvious that Caesar was willing to stand up for this Mudblood.
Lucius lightly tapped the floor with his snake-headed cane and ordered the House-elf at his feet with a hint of impatience:
"Dobby, step back. Don't block the way, and don't frighten our... guests with your ugly appearance."
The House-elf named Dobby shuddered in fright, its enormous eyes instantly brimming with tears.
It hurriedly backed away, almost shrinking into the shadow of the wall. A faint, tearful whimper came from its mouth:
"Y-yes, Master! Dobby was wrong! Dobby is a bad elf!"
Hermione's brows knitted tightly.
She didn't understand what "Mudblood" meant, so she hadn't paid much attention to it.
It was the sight of Dobby's terrified expression that stirred a powerful sense of discomfort and sympathy in her.
She couldn't understand why anyone would treat a living creature with such obvious feelings that way.
She looked up at Caesar, seeking an answer. "Why are they treating it like that? It looks so scared!"
Caesar lowered his eyes to Hermione. Seeing the pure confusion and hint of indignation in her eyes, he gently tightened the hand on her shoulder—a gesture of comfort and a reminder.
He didn't answer Hermione's question right away. Instead, he looked up at Lucius Malfoy. His tone remained calm, but carried an unmistakable finality:
"Children are always eager to learn. I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy, but we still need to buy Hermione a wand. If you'll excuse us."
Caesar made no comment about the House-elf's situation, but Lucius saw his calm demeanor as a silent declaration of where he stood.
Lucius narrowed his eyes and forced a false smile. "Of course. Go ahead. We're going to have Draco's new robes made, too. Come along."
His final words were directed at his wife, son, and Dobby, and his tone was icy.
The Malfoy family left with their noses in the air. Dobby trotted after them, glancing back at Hermione in secret.
Its expression was incredibly complicated, mingling gratitude, curiosity, and profound sadness.
Only after they had gone did Hermione tug anxiously at Caesar's sleeve. "Caesar, who are those people? And that Dobby..."
Caesar stopped and looked at Hermione, his gaze deep and serious.
"Hermione, the wizarding world isn't just the glittering cauldrons and flying brooms you've seen. It also has ancient, even dark, traditions and rules. House-elves are one of them."
He paused, choosing a gentler but sufficiently clear way to explain:
"They have magical contracts with certain old wizarding families and serve them for generations. Most wizards consider this perfectly natural."
"But those contracts are immoral," Hermione blurted out, a hint of uncertainty on her small face. "They get scared and sad. Right now, they're treated like objects."
Caesar looked at the girl before him, who hadn't even started school yet but was already speaking up against injustice. An immensely complex emotion flickered in his eyes.
As expected, even though Hermione had flaws like pride, a sense of superiority, and a rigid streak, at her core she was a genuinely kind girl.
"I thought you were a girl who followed the rules." Caesar didn't directly agree or disagree with Hermione. He merely ruffled her light-brown hair and explained calmly:
"Everyone in this world has their own morals and principles. They're all different, but the world operates according to only one set of rules.
Our personal moral beliefs will inevitably clash with the rules that govern this world. If everyone broke the rules in the name of their own morality, wouldn't there be no rules at all?"
Hermione fell silent.
In the original story, Hermione was a stubborn rule-absolutist in the early years.
When her personal morality clashed with the rules, she always chose the latter. This often put her at odds with Harry and Ron.
But later, as she spent more time with the rest of the group, Hermione gradually grew.
She went from following the rules without question to changing them according to her own moral beliefs.
For example, choosing to push for House-elf reform after becoming Minister of Magic was a sign of great wisdom.
But this little girl had yet to grow into the future Minister of Magic.
"Let me tell you a story."
Caesar released Hermione's hand and snapped his fingers. In an instant, the two of them appeared in a secluded place. Then he spoke in a low, calm voice:
"This is a story about the law, suffering, and redemption."
Hermione immediately straightened up and nodded firmly.
"Many years ago, in a distant, non-magical town, there lived a young woodcutter named Donn."
As Caesar spoke, a moving scene appeared before Hermione:
In the bitter winter wind, Donn's wife and five gaunt children huddled in a corner of their shabby little house. The hearth was cold, and there was no food left.
"He looked everywhere for work and begged every employer he could find, but to no avail. The children were so hungry they didn't even have the strength to cry."
Caesar's voice was calm, but carried a heavy weight.
"On that frigid night, he passed the only bakery in town.
Behind the display window, golden loaves of bread gave off an enticing aroma. The smell cut into 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 or touch the precious silverware. He grabbed just one thing—one loaf of bread."
Caesar paused and looked at Hermione with a piercing gaze. "Then the town guards caught him after they were alerted."
"For one loaf of bread?" Hermione's voice trembled with disbelief.
"For one loaf of bread," Caesar confirmed. "The judge followed the letter of the law and declared: violent theft, aggravated circumstances, fifteen years of hard labor."
Hermione sucked in a breath, her face pale.
"In the dark mines and aboard the cold prison ships, he spent the fifteen years of his life when he was still young.
His once-hardworking hands grew rough and numb. After countless unjust beatings and humiliations, his once-warm heart gradually froze into a block of ice.
He stopped believing in justice and believed only in strength. He stopped believing in kindness and believed only in hatred.
To him, the law wasn't a shield to protect the weak. It was a wheel that crushed the poor."
"That's so tragic..." Hermione murmured.
Stealing? Obviously, that was wrong.
But what if it was to keep his children from starving to death?
Before you continue