Hermione paused, watching the faint light kindle in the House-elves' eyes.
She continued urging them on:
"And," Hermione changed tack, her voice suddenly solemn and forceful, "there's something more important now, something that concerns the honor of all Hogwarts, and it needs your help."
"Hogwarts'... honor?"
The House-elves looked at her in confusion.
"Yes." Hermione's gaze sharpened. "The Triwizard Tournament isn't just a contest between Champions. It's an all-round competition between three schools of magic. Professor Holmes believes we need to send our finest chef to represent Hogwarts and give them a little shock."
She drew a deep breath and declared emphatically:
"The outcome of this contest will directly affect Hogwarts' reputation. We... cannot lose."
Those words were like a key, fitting precisely into the oldest, strongest lock in the House-elves' hearts.
This was no longer a personal request.
No longer charity that called for sympathy.
This was a summons from the Castle itself.
It was about defending the glory of supreme Hogwarts, which they had served for generations.
In the corner, Dobby stopped wiping Winky's tears. His tennis-ball-sized eyes widened, and he held his breath.
Kian's small, thin body trembled slightly with excitement, making the white hat on Kian's head wobble.
"You mean... H-Hogwarts' victory... needs... needs our recipes?" Kian's voice carried a reverent, disbelieving tremor.
"Not just recipes." Hermione's voice was full of strength. "The professor believes that Hogwarts' true magic isn't only stored in wands. It also lies in the fires and fragrances of this Kitchen."
"He needs Hogwarts' most loyal guardians to use the skills you've passed down through generations to win this secret war for him, and for Hogwarts!"
"So today's tea party is actually a secret pre-competition consultation. The professor wants to hear what suggestions Hogwarts' very best chefs have." "So, who would like