Hogwarts: I will not become the Dark Lord

As evening approached, Jerry finished his day of classes and arrived at the Great Hall. Harry and the others were already sitting at the long table, their faces slightly solemn, especially Harry, whose eyes revealed an imperceptible gloom. Faced with Jerry's arrival, none of them spoke for a moment, and the atmosphere was slightly awkward.

"What's wrong with you all? Was Professor Moody's class very interesting?" Jerry asked with a smile to the others who had just finished their Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

"Don't even mention it," Harry said, shaking his head slightly, his tone tinged with unease. "Although I think Professor Moody was right, but…"

The Avada Kedavra curse used by Professor Moody in class hung over Harry's heart like a dark cloud, making it difficult for him to let go.

For the past three years, ever since Harry learned about his parents' fate, he would unconsciously recall that fateful night in his mind whenever he was alone late at night: Wormtail's betrayal, revealing his parents' hiding place to Voldemort, and then, the Dark Lord found them.

Harry had reconstructed that tragic scene countless times in his mind: how his father, James Potter, bravely resisted Voldemort while calling out to Lily to take him away in swaddling clothes; Voldemort approaching his mother step by step, ignoring her pleas, determined to put him to death; and how she used her life as a sacrifice, begging Voldemort to spare her child, until the last moment of her life, she held Harry tightly in her arms.

"Jerry, don't you think Professor Moody seems a little too hasty? After all, as he said, we're only in fourth year, this kind of content might be more suitable for sixth-year students…" Hermione leaned against Jerry, her voice tinged with unease.

"What's meant to come will come," Jerry said, putting his arm around Hermione's shoulder to comfort her. "Maybe that's why Dumbledore invited Moody to be this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

Jerry also suspected that Dumbledore was a little anxious, after all, the current Hogwarts students, including Harry, their level… their potential is huge!

Unfortunately, Moody was being impersonated by Barty Crouch Jr., but the effect was the same, even better, after all, Barty Crouch Jr. really dared to teach!

"I'm back," Neville's voice was low and slightly hoarse, seeming particularly tired.

"Neville, are you okay?" Harry asked with concern.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm fine," Neville shook his head.

"Professor Moody kept you behind, was there something special?" Ron interjected curiously.

Neville nodded slightly, slowly placing a book he had just received from Professor Moody—'Mediterranean Magical Aquatic Plants and Their Properties'—on the table, explaining: "He noticed that I wasn't quite right in class, so he asked me about my situation and then gave me this book. I guess Professor Sprout might have mentioned my talent in Herbology to Professor Moody."

At this point, Neville's voice inadvertently revealed a rare hint of pride, a side of him that he rarely showed in the past, "Professor Moody thinks I'll be interested in this book."

"Looks like Professor Moody isn't so bad after all!" Harry smiled, Neville rarely received such recognition.

"By the way, let me show you my latest achievements!" Hermione said suddenly, excitedly. She took out a delicate little box from her pocket, gently opened the lid, and inside were rows of colorful, different badges, each engraved with the same combination of letters: "s . p . e . w ."

"Puke?" Harry picked up a badge, squinted his eyes to examine it carefully, his face full of doubt, "Hermione, what does this mean?"

"Harry, it's not 'Puke', it's S-P-E-W," Hermione looked at him impatiently, correcting him patiently, "It stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare."

"You naturally haven't heard of it, because I just founded it," she added, her tone tinged with pride.

"So, you plan to distribute these badges, inviting others to join… house-elves… uh… that organization?" Jerry picked up a badge, his brow furrowed slightly, obviously trying to adapt to this new concept.

"That's right, Jerry, but it's the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare!" Hermione looked at him expectantly, her eyes seeming to sparkle with starlight, "It's not free either, two silver Sickles!"

"Still charging?" Harry, Ron, and Neville heard this and put the badges in their hands back into the box, their faces showing surprise and a slightly awkward expression. Wearing a badge with "Puke" on it was already hard enough to accept, and now they had to pay for it, spend money?

Upon hearing this, Jerry picked up the box, pulled Hermione away from the Great Hall, and came to a deserted small garden outside the castle.

"Hermione, don't you think you're being too idealistic?" Jerry pulled Hermione to sit down on a bench.

"What you're doing may not be a good thing for the house-elves," Jerry said, his tone tinged with helplessness. He looked at Hermione, his eyes complex.

"They're already used to their way of life, this job for them is an honor and a happiness," Jerry paused, as if organizing his words, "Depriving them of the right to work may make them feel lost and disappointed. And talking about remuneration is to insult them, to deny their loyalty."

Hermione turned her head sharply, looking at Jerry in disbelief, her tone full of disbelief: "Jerry, did you pull me out here just to refute my ideas?"

She had thought that no matter what, Jerry would definitely support her.

"What about Dobby, isn't he a good example?" Hermione's chest heaved violently, obviously quite angry.

"But Dobby is just a special case, it doesn't mean that all elves crave the same change," Jerry stated calmly, "Every race has individuals who pursue different things, but you can't expect most elves to accept and pursue freedom because of that."

Disappointment surged like a tide, Hermione's eyes instantly turned red, tears welling up in her eyes: "Jerry, you're so disappointing, I thought you were different from others, I've been researching the history of house-elves in the library. For centuries, no one has cared about the fact that they are enslaved."

"So what, these are all your subjective ideas, have you gone to the kitchen to ask the opinions of those house-elves?" Jerry's tone did not soften because of Hermione's anger, but became even sharper, "Besides, do you think wearing these badges is useful? You and I are just Hogwarts students who haven't graduated yet, who will care about these things?"

"If you really want to do something for the house-elves, then wait until you become the Minister for Magic or the President of the International Confederation of Wizards!"

Hearing Jerry's words, Hermione bit her lip, tears finally couldn't help but burst out. She stood up abruptly, slammed the badges in her hand hard on the ground, and turned and ran away.