Those words were a precisely cast Confundus Charm.
They did not attack the House-elves' bodies, but precisely distorted their definition of "new clothes."
The label of "a good thing" was torn away, replaced with words they knew better: "risk," "pressure," and "a formidable task."
Whispers arose. The fear in the House-elves' eyes was fading, replaced by awe at this "heavy burden."
Seeing that the moment was right, Dobby snapped his fingers.
A clean linen uniform appeared out of thin air in his hands.
Its design was simple, with a small, exquisite Hogwarts Crest embroidered in gold thread on the chest.
Dobby did not hand it out.
He merely held the uniform high, as though raising a battle flag.
"This is the form the Glorious Shackles take."
"It is not a piece of clothing."
"It is proof of qualification."
"Only elves who pass the Hogwarts Kitchens Etiquette Final Assessment will be qualified to wear it and represent Hogwarts before the eyes of the whole world!"
His finger pointed at the uniform.
"It is clean, so you can no longer casually wipe the flour and grease from your hands onto yourselves."
"It bears the school crest, so you must hold your heads high and stand tall, instead of shrinking back as you once did."
"It will restrain all your bad habits."
"It will force you to become better!"
Dobby's gaze sharpened.
"Now, anyone... who is unwilling to be bound by these shackles may withdraw."
"No one will force you to shoulder this honor that was never yours to bear."
Give them back the choice.
Uproot the source of "being forced" completely.
The House-elves fell silent, hesitating and struggling.
Just then, Dobby placed his final, and heaviest, weight on the scales.
"I consulted Mr. Douglas Holmes about the design of this uniform."
At