Hermione sat down, laid the things she was carrying in an empty armchair, and pulled Ron’s predictions toward her.
“Not going to have a very good month, are you?” she said sardonically as Crookshanks curled up in her lap.
“Ah well, at least I’m forewarned,” Ron yawned.
“You seem to be drowning twice,” said Hermione.
“Oh am I?” said Ron, peering down at his predictions. “I’d better change one of them to getting trampled by a rampaging hippogriff.”
“Don’t you think it’s a bit obvious you’ve made these up?” said Hermione.
“How dare you!” said Ron, in mock outrage. “We’ve been working like house-elves here!”
Hermione raised her eyebrows.
“It’s just an expression,” said Ron hastily.
Harry laid down his quill too, having just finished predicting his own death by decapitation.
“What’s in the box?” he asked, pointing at it.
“Funny you should ask,” said Hermione, with a nasty look at Ron. She took off the lid and showed them the contents.
Inside were about fifty badges, all of different colors, but all bearing the same letters: S.P.E.W.
“Spew?” said Harry, picking up a badge and looking at it. “What’s this about?”
“Not spew,” said Hermione impatiently. “It’s S-P-E-W. Stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare.”
“Never heard of it,” said Ron.
“Well, of course you haven’t,” said Hermione briskly, “I’ve only just started it.”
“Yeah?” said Ron in mild surprise. “How many members have you got?”
“Well—if you two join—three,” said Hermione.
“And you think we want to walk around wearing badges saying ‘spew,’ do you?” said Ron.
“S.P.E.W.!” said Hermione hotly. “I was going to put Stop the Outrageous Abuse of Our Fellow Magical Creatures and Campaign for a Change in Their Legal Status—but it wouldn’t fit. So that’s the heading of our manifesto.”