Chapter 180: S.P.E.W

Early the next morning, while Ron was still at the breakfast table, he eagerly began finalizing with Harry who should learn the beautification charm.

"Hey, Ginny and Ivy are a must—what about Hannah? And of course, don't forget Pansy!" Ron said, slathering an excessive amount of butter onto his bread.

"Hannah's certainly fine, but as for learning the beautification charm…" Harry hesitated, unsure whether Ron would agree to include Hermione, "theoretically, it's better if they volunteer."

"But I'm not sure if Zhang Qiu is willing to teach," Harry added. "You can ask her during evening study."

"Evening study?"

"Oh, that's the time every night when everyone writes homework in the library—Zhang Qiu calls it evening study," Harry recalled. "Roughly from seven to nine-thirty."

Throughout the day, Ron was distracted, constantly debating with Harry how to "help" the girls—though to Harry, his hidden motives were obvious.

He wanted all the girls to look stunning to attract other boys and reduce competition, yet he didn't want Hermione to reveal her charm too soon, so he could swoop in later.

Harry realized Ron still had feelings for Hermione—it didn't surprise him, since this was fate's destined match; if he felt nothing for her, Zhang Qiu would be losing her hair from worry.

That evening, Ron unusually brought several sheets of parchment and sat with Harry in the library, eagerly waiting for Zhang Qiu's arrival.

At five minutes to seven, Zhang Qiu arrived punctually, arms full of books, and was slightly surprised to see Ron.

Ron rushed to pull out her chair, then blurted out his purpose: "Hey, Zhang Qiu, I heard you know the beautification charm—the one that makes girls prettier?"

"You care about this?" Zhang Qiu asked, flipping through her notebook for her divination results. "Who do you want me to teach? Ginny or Hermione?"

"Pansy—mostly Pansy," Ron said, slightly embarrassed.

"Pfft!" Zhang Qiu widened her eyes. "Are you trying to make Malfoy's life easier so he stops bothering you?"

"Something like that," Ron mumbled. "Of course, if you could also teach Ginny and Ivy, and Hannah and Luna if they're willing—or add Penelope, Lavender, Greengrass…"

"Wait, wait," Zhang Qiu interrupted his list. "You don't think the beautification charm is easy to learn, do you?"

"Huh?" Ron had never considered this.

"You must understand magic can't achieve what you have no concept of," Zhang Qiu explained. "You can easily imagine something floating, or summoning fire, or one object turning into another—let's use that as an example."

"Suppose I asked you to draw my parents' faces on paper—could you do it?" Zhang Qiu asked.

"How could I?" Ron shook his head. "I've never seen them."

"That's the problem. If I tell girls the key to casting the beautification charm is imagining how beautiful they'll look, they won't have that concept," Zhang Qiu said. "They must first know exactly what they'll look like after makeup, or they risk irreversible damage to their faces."

"Then…" Ron looked at her, disappointed.

"So, giving a man a fish is less useful than teaching him to fish. If you truly want girls to learn to dress themselves by fourth year," Zhang Qiu said, "I can only teach them actual makeup—it'll take a lot of time."

"Could you then help one girl apply makeup first, and teach her a shortcut charm?" Harry asked. "Just Hannah and Pansy would be enough."

"That won't work," Zhang Qiu spread her hands, "because—I don't know how to apply makeup myself. I still need my mistress to send me a few books on it."

"So your beautification charm…" Ron suddenly realized, "oh, so your charm was a shortcut your mistress taught you?"

"What else?" Zhang Qiu shot him an exasperated look.

"I think you should form a club," Harry tapped his knuckles lightly on the table. "Ivy actually knows a bit of makeup—her etiquette tutor started teaching her since she was little. She could help you."

Zhang Qiu's gaze grew thoughtful. "So you still want to invite Pansy?"

"Still invite Pansy," Harry lifted his head. "I'll speak to Malfoy. The club can be all-female, focused on learning how to become beautiful and attract boys—any girl can join voluntarily."

"But didn't you say," Ron frowned, looking between the two as they reached consensus, "that Death Eaters might attack Hogwarts this year? Aren't we supposed to train students in dueling?"

"If girls become beautiful, boys will naturally start dueling," Zhang Qiu smiled.

"That's only part of it. More importantly, I need influence," Harry frowned. "There are too many surrenderists among the students—I don't want them pointing wands at us later. We need to cultivate an environment that makes them proud to fight bravely, to defend Hogwarts like they defend their own bedrooms."

"The current atmosphere is still relatively peaceful," Zhang Qiu agreed. "So we must start with the girls."

"Fine, it's not a bad idea," Ron muttered.

Once the plan was mostly settled, Ron's dreaded homework time began—but he didn't suffer long, because Hermione suddenly appeared.

"Harry, I've got an idea," she said. "We should set up a goal that sounds noble but is nearly impossible to achieve—and make the nobles suffer. Do you know what I thought of?"

"What?" Ron obligingly took the bait.

"House-elf rights," Hermione said seriously. "Elves suffer inhuman treatment. We must treat them fairly, fight for wages and an eight-hour workday, and push for laws protecting their labor rights."

"That's ridiculous," Ron instinctively objected. "Everyone knows elves actually enjoy it."

"That doesn't matter," Hermione said. "What matters is that if you ever feel even a flicker of sympathy or gratitude when you see elves working hard, you'll want to do something to satisfy your moral conscience."

"I think you should team up with Zhang Qiu," Harry suddenly spoke. "Girls naturally feel more sympathy for elves. You can bring this up in Zhang Qiu's beauty club."

"Beauty?" Hermione looked puzzled.

"Exactly. If you're just gathering people to express sympathy for elves and gain moral satisfaction, that's fine," Harry continued. "But if you truly want to free them, you need a manifesto—and their own consent."

"You're right," Hermione nodded. "I was only planning to gather a few potentially restless people and give them something to do—especially those from Death Eater families. Indeed, noble girls are the easiest to indulge in idle sympathy."

"Then our plan can be refined," Harry wrote on parchment. "First, we form a club or association whose original purpose is to share and jointly learn techniques—makeup, conversation skills, anything that helps girls attract boys."

Zhang Qiu nodded. Hermione's expression turned complex.

"This first step is vital—we must attract the vast majority of girls from the start and give them a reason they won't want to leave," Harry underlined "vast majority of girls." "Then we can begin spreading our ideas within the club, starting simple—'Defend the Best Hogwarts,' 'Girls Help Girls,' and so on."

"Once girls grow accustomed to a dominant voice expressing correct—or universally agreed—opinions, we can gradually introduce ambiguous, controversial but non-sensitive views—like house-elf legal rights or goblin ownership of wands. At that point, we can identify those who follow us, and use various means to win over those who oppose us," Harry continued.

"Then, provoke division—use external conflict to strengthen the club's cohesion," Harry said confidently, coldly. "The Triwizard Tournament is a perfect opportunity—you can all jointly criticize the French or the Ministry, but avoid touching on core conflicts between Death Eaters and the Order."

"Finally, you become opinion leaders among young girls, easily controlling their stances. Then you can remain neutral until these girls enter society and gradually gain influence—ready to deliver a fatal blow to the Death Eater faction," Harry finished his plan in one breath, unaware that Ron was staring at him with terror.

"Excellent plan," Zhang Qiu commented. "Who taught you?"

"Norellius Yule, my childhood tutor," Harry sighed. "Not honorable—but useful."

"I believe it's useful," Ron trembled. "Decades ago, You-Know-Who did exactly this… to form the Death Eaters."

"They say Grindelwald did the same to form the Holy Order," Hermione added, her tone devoid of fear or dread. "Donald told me power itself has no good or evil—it's how you use it."

"Exactly," Harry nodded, still shaken. "So always remember: our cause is just."

"Let's talk about something cheerful," Zhang Qiu wrote four letters on the parchment. "What should we name the club? I thought of S. . . . Splendid Pretty Elegant Witches. How's that?"

"I was thinking Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare?" Hermione stared at Zhang Qiu's pen, surprised—she'd planned to use those same letters.

"But you could also call it Socialist Party for English Workers," Zhang Qiu murmured. "Socialist Party of English Workers."

"Do you two really have to name it 'vomiting'?" Ron asked, a naive yet piercingly direct question.