HP: Supreme Potion Collector [Original Female Protagonist]

Friday evening saw most students relaxing and enjoying themselves, but Orli, Harry, and Ron were still grappling with Trelawney's homework. Eventually, they gave up trying to chart the trajectories of stars and began fabricating their own misfortunes instead—burns, losing money, fights, or drowning. Everyone's future, it seemed, was destined to be utterly miserable.

Just as they were finishing up, the portrait hole behind the Fat Lady swung open, and Hermione climbed into the common room. She held a roll of parchment in one hand and a box in the other. The box clattered noisily with every step she took. Crookshanks arched his back and purred contentedly.

"Hello," she said brightly. "I'm done!"

"So am I!" Ron declared smugly, tossing his quill onto the table.

Hermione sat down, placed her things on an empty chair, and pulled Ron's predictions toward her.

"You've had quite the unlucky month, haven't you?" she remarked sarcastically, as Crookshanks curled up on her lap.

"Yeah, at least I got a heads-up," Ron said, yawning.

"It seems you're going to drown twice," Hermione noted dryly.

"Am I?" Ron asked, quickly scanning his predictions. "I'd better change one of them to being trampled by a rampaging Hippogriff."

"Doesn't it just scream 'completely made up'?" Hermione said with a raised eyebrow.

"How dare you!" Ron exclaimed in mock outrage. "We've been slaving away here all night—like house-elves!"

Hermione's eyebrows shot up.

"Sorry, poor choice of words," Ron added hastily.

Harry set down his quill; he had just predicted his own beheading. Orli discreetly rolled up her assignment, which detailed her falling off a tower and splattering like a smashed pumpkin.

"What's in the box?" Orli asked quickly, eager to change the subject. She pointed toward the box.

"It's finally finished," Hermione said, shooting Ron a glare before lifting the lid to reveal its contents.

Inside the box were about fifty badges, each in a different color, all bearing the same letters: S.P.E.W.

"'Spew'?" Harry picked up a badge, examining it closely. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's not 'spew,'" Hermione said impatiently. "It's S-P-E-W. It stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare."

Orli felt a headache coming on.

"Never heard of it," Ron said bluntly.

"Of course you haven't," Hermione replied crisply. "I just founded it."

"Ah?" Ron said, blinking in surprise. "How many members do you have?"

"Well—if the three of you join—four," Hermione said matter-of-factly.

"You think we're going to walk around wearing badges that say 'spew'?" Ron asked incredulously.

"It's S-P-E-W!" Hermione snapped. "I originally wanted to call it the 'Campaign for the Fair Treatment of Our Magical Creature Friends and the Improvement of Their Legal Status,' but that didn't quite fit. So I made that our association's manifesto title instead."

She waved the roll of parchment at them for emphasis.

"I've been doing extensive research in the library. The enslavement of house-elves dates back several centuries. I can't believe no one has done anything about it."

"Hermione—listen to me," Ron said loudly. "They. Like. It. They like being slaves!"

"I've been planning this ever since I learned about Dobby's situation two years ago," Hermione said, her voice rising above Ron's, as though she hadn't heard him at all. "Our short-term goal is to ensure house-elves receive fair wages and decent working conditions. Our long-term goals include amending the law that prohibits house-elves from using wands and advocating for a house-elf representative in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. The lack of representation for house-elf interests is absolutely appalling."

Orli would have gladly paid a thousand, even ten thousand Galleons, if it meant Hermione would drop the subject. But Hermione was clearly brimming with determination.

"First, we need to recruit members. I think participants should pay two Sickles to join, which will cover the cost of the badges and fund our flyers. Ron, you're the treasurer—I've got a money jar ready for you. Harry, you're the secretary—you'll need to write down everything I'm saying as minutes for our first meeting. Orli, you're our ambassador and PR officer. You've had the most interaction with house-elves, so you're perfect for the role. You used to think house-elf labor was justified, but now you're paying Dobby wages, which makes you the ideal case study!"

For a moment, no one said a word. Hermione beamed at them expectantly. Ron looked pale, Harry appeared petrified, and Orli suspected her own expression wasn't much better.

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