Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality

by Eliezer Yudkowsky

  "Somnium," said Zabini's voice.

  Granger: 255 / Malfoy: 252 / Potter: 254

  And Harry Potter's body floated away, his expression of shock and horror quickly relaxing into sleep.

  "On second thought," Parvati said cheerfully, "make that Gryffindors for Sunshine."

  She started to laugh, more exhiliarated than she'd ever been in her life, she'd finally gotten to assassinate and replace her twin sister and she'd wanted to do that since forever, and this had been perfect, it had all been perfect -

  - and then her wand spun around in a lightning motion just as Zabini's wand turned to point at her.

  "Wait!" said Zabini. "Do not shoot, do not resist. That's an order."

  "What?" said Parvati.

  "Sorry," said Zabini, looking not-quite-sincerely apologetic, "but I can't be totally sure you're for Sunshine. So I order you to let me shoot you."

  "Hold on!" said Parvati. "We're only ahead of Chaos by one point! If you shoot me now -"

  "I'll shoot you in the name of Dragon, obviously," said Zabini, now sounding a little superior. "Just because we tricked them into doing it, doesn't mean it won't work for us."

  Parvati stared at him, her eyes narrowing. "General Malfoy said your mother doesn't like Hermione."

  "I suppose," said Zabini, still with that superior smirk. "But some of us are more willing than Draco Malfoy to annoy a parent."

  "And Harry Potter said you have a cousin -"

  "Nope," said Zabini.

  Parvati stared at him, trying to think, but she wasn't really good at plotting; Zabini'd said the plan was to secretly keep the scores of Chaos and Dragon as even as possible so they'd use Sunshine's name to execute their traitors instead of losing even a single point, and that had worked... but... she had the feeling she was missing something, she wasn't a Slytherin...

  "Why don't I shoot you in the name of Dragon?" said Parvati.

  "Because I outrank you," said Zabini.

  Parvati had a bad feeling about this.

  She stared at him for a long moment.

  And then -

  "Somni-" she started to say, and then realized she hadn't said for Dragon, and frantically cut herself off -

  Granger: 255 / Malfoy: 254 / Potter: 254

  "Hey, everyone," said Blaise Zabini's face on the screens, looking quite amused, "guess it's all down to me."

  All by the lakeside, people were holding their breath.

  Sunshine was ahead of Dragon and Chaos by exactly one point.

  Blaise Zabini could shoot himself in the name of either Dragon or Chaos, or just leave things the way they were.

  A series of chimes indicated that the last minute of time was running out.

  And the Slytherin was smiling a strange, twisted smile, and casually toying with his wand, the dark wood barely visible in the dark water.

  "You know," said Blaise Zabini's voice, in the tones of someone who'd been rehearsing the words for a while, "it's just a game, really. And games are supposed to be fun. So how about if I just do whatever I feel like?"

  Chapter 34: Coordination Problems, Pt 2

  Minerva and Dumbledore together had applied their combined talent to conjure the grand stage toward which Quirrell now slowly trudged; it was, at its core, sturdy wood, but the outer surfaces shone with glitter of marble inlaid with platinum and studded with gems of every House color. Neither she nor the Headmaster was any Founder of Hogwarts, but the conjuration only needed to last a few hours. Minerva ordinarily enjoyed the few occasions when she had the occasion to tire herself out on large Transfigurations; she should have enjoyed the many small chances for artistry, and the illusion of opulence; but this time she had done the work with the dreadful feeling of digging her own grave.

  But Minerva was feeling a little better now. There'd been one brief moment when the explosion might've come; but Dumbledore had already been standing up and applauding warmly, and no one had proven foolish enough to riot in front of the Headmaster.

  And the explosive mood had rapidly faded into a collective sentiment which might perhaps have been described by the phrase: Give us a break!

  Blaise Zabini had shot himself in the name of Sunshine, and the final score had been 254 to 254 to 254.

  Behind the stage, waiting to ascend, three children were glaring at each other in mingled fury and frustration. It didn't help that they were still damp from being fished out of the lake, and that the Warming Charms didn't seem quite enough to make up for the crisp December air, or maybe it was just their mood.

  "That's it," said Granger. "I've had it! No more traitors!"

  "I completely agree with you, Miss Granger," Draco said icily. "Enough is enough."

  "And what do you two intend to do about it?" snapped Harry Potter. "Professor Quirrell already said he wouldn't ban spies!"

  "We'll ban them for him," said Draco grimly. He hadn't even understood what he meant by the words as he said them, but the very act of speaking seemed to crystallize a plan -

  The stage really was well done, at least for a temporary structure; the makers hadn't fallen into the usual pitfall of being impressed by their own illusion of wealth, and knew something about architecture and visual style. From where Draco stood, in the obvious place for him to stand, the watching students would see him haloed in the faint glitter of emeralds; and Granger, standing where Draco had subtly motioned her, would be haloed in Ravenclaw's sapphire. As for Harry Potter, Draco wasn't looking at him right now.

  Professor Quirrell had... awakened, or whatever it was he did; and was leaning upon a platinum podium bare of all gems. With evident showmanship, the Defense Professor was carefully stacking and squaring those three envelopes containing the three parchments upon which the three generals had written their wishes, as all the students of Hogwarts watched, and waited.

  Finally Professor Quirrell looked up from the envelopes. "Well," said the Defense Professor. "This is inconvenient."

  A slight titter of laughter ran through the crowd, with a sharp undertone.

  "I suppose you are all wondering what I will do?" said Professor Quirrell. "There is nothing for it; I shall have to do what is fair. Although first there was a little speech I wanted to make, and before even that, it appears to me that Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger have something they wish to share."

  Draco blinked, and then he and Granger traded rapid glances - may I? - yes, go ahead - and Draco raised his voice.

  "General Granger and I would both like to say," Draco said in his most formal voice, knowing it was being amplified and heard, "that we will no longer accept the help of any traitors. And if, in any battle, we find that Potter has accepted traitors from either of our armies, we will join forces to crush him."

  And Draco shot a glance filled at malice at the Boy-Who-Lived. Take that, General Chaos!

  "I agree completely with General Malfoy," said Granger standing beside him, her high voice clear and strong. "Neither of us will use traitors, and if General Potter does, we will wipe him off the battlefield."

  There was a susurration of surprise from the watching students.

  "Very good," said their Defense Professor, smiling. "It took the two of you long enough, but you are still to be congratulated on having thought of it before any other generals."

  It took a moment for this to soak in -

  "In the future, Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger, before you come to my office with any request, consider whether there is a way for you to accomplish it without my help. I will not deduct Quirrell points on this occasion, but next time you may expect to lose the full fifty." Professor Quirrell wore an amused grin. "And what do you have to say about that, Mr. Potter?"

  Harry Potter's gaze went to Granger, then to Draco. His face appeared calm; though Draco was sure controlled would have been the better term.

  Finally Harry Potter spoke, his voice level. "The Chaos Legion is still happy to accept traitors. See you on the battlefield."

  Draco knew the shock was showing on his own face; ther
e were astonished murmurs from the watching students, and when Draco glanced at the front row he saw that even Harry's Chaotics looked taken aback.

  Granger's face was angry, and getting angrier. "Mr. Potter," she said in a sharp tone like she thought she was a teacher, "are you trying to be obnoxious?"

  "Most certainly not," Harry Potter said calmly. "I won't make you do it every time. Beat me once, and I'll stay beaten. But threats aren't always enough, General of Sunshine. You did not ask me to join with you, but tried simply to impose your will; and sometimes you must actually defeat the enemy, to impose your will on him. You see, I am skeptical that Hermione Granger, the brightest academic star of Hogwarts, and Draco, son of Lucius, scion of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Malfoy, can work together to beat their common foe, Harry Potter." An amused smile crossed Harry Potter's face. "Maybe I'll just do what Draco tried with Zabini, and write a letter to Lucius Malfoy and see what he thinks about that."

  "Harry!" gasped Granger, looking absolutely aghast, and there were gasps from the audience as well.

  Draco controlled the anger flushing through him. That had been a stupid move on Harry's part, saying that in public. If Harry had simply done it, it might have worked, Draco hadn't even thought about that, but now if Father did that it would look like he was playing into Harry's hands -

  "If you think my father, Lord Malfoy, can be manipulated by you that easily," Draco said coldly, "you have a surprise coming, Harry Potter."

  And Draco realized as the words finished leaving his mouth that he'd just backed his own father squarely into the corner, more or less without even meaning to. Father probably wasn't going to like this, not the tiniest bit, but now it would be impossible for him to say so... Draco would have to apologize for that, it had been an honest accident, but it was strange to think that he'd done it at all.

  "Then go ahead and defeat the evil General Chaos," Harry said, still looking amused. "I can't win against both your armies - not if you really work together. But I wonder if perhaps I could break you up before then."

  "You won't, and we'll crush you!" said Draco Malfoy.

  And beside him, Hermione Granger firmly nodded.

  "Well," said Professor Quirrell after the astounded silence had stretched for a while. "That was not how I expected that particular conversation to go." The Defense Professor had a rather intrigued expression on his face. "Truthfully, Mr. Potter, I expected you to concede immediately and with a smile, then announce that you had long since worked out my intended lesson but had decided not to spoil it for others. Indeed, I planned my speech accordingly, Mr. Potter."

  Harry Potter just shrugged. "Sorry about that," he said, and said nothing more.

  "Oh, don't worry," said Professor Quirrell. "This, too, will serve."

  And Professor Quirrell turned from the three children, and straightened at the podium to address the whole watching crowd; his customary air of detached amusement dropped away like a falling mask, and when he spoke again his voice was amplified louder than it had been.

  "If not for Harry Potter," said Professor Quirrell, his voice as crisp and cold as December, "You-Know-Who would have won."

  The silence was instant, and total.

  "Make no mistake," said Professor Quirrell. "The Dark Lord was winning. There were fewer and fewer Aurors who dared face him, the vigilantes who opposed him were being hunted down. One Dark Lord and perhaps fifty Death Eaters were winning against a country of thousands. That is beyond ridiculous! There are no grades low enough for me to mark that incompetence!"

  There was a frown on the face of Headmaster Dumbledore; and on the faces of the audience, puzzlement; and the utter silence went on.

  "Do you understand now how it happened? You saw it today. I allowed traitors, and gave the generals no means to restrain them. You saw the result. Clever plots and clever betrayals, until the last soldier left on the battlefield shot himself! You cannot possibly doubt that all three of those armies could have been defeated by any outside foe that was unified within itself."

  Professor Quirrell leaned forward at the podium, his voice now filled with a grim intensity. His right hand stretched out, fingers open and spread. "Division is weakness," said the Defense Professor. His hand closed into a tight fist. "Unity is strength. The Dark Lord understood that well, whatever his other follies; and he used that understanding to create the one simple invention that made him the most terrible Dark Lord in history. Your parents faced one Dark Lord. And fifty Death Eaters who were perfectly unified, knowing that any breach of their loyalty would be punished by death, that any slack or incompetence would be punished by pain. None could escape the Dark Lord's grasp once they took his Mark. And the Death Eaters agreed to take that terrible Mark because they knew that once they took it, they would be united, facing a divided land. One Dark Lord and fifty Death Eaters would have defeated an entire country, by the power of the Dark Mark."

  Professor Quirrell's voice was bleak and hard. "Your parents could have fought back in kind. They did not. There was a man named Yermy Wibble who called upon the nation to institute a draft, though he did not quite have vision enough to propose a Mark of Britain. Yermy Wibble knew what would happen to him; he hoped his death would inspire others. So the Dark Lord took his family for good measure. Their empty skins inspired nothing but fear, and no one dared to speak again. And your parents would have faced the consequences of their despicable cowardice, if not for being saved by a one-year-old boy." Professor Quirrell's face showed full contempt. "A dramatist would have called that a dei ex machina, for they did nothing to earn their salvation. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named may not have deserved to win, but make no doubt of it, your parents deserved to lose."

  The voice of the Defense Professor rang forth like iron. "And know this: your parents have learned nothing! The nation is still fragmented and weak! How few decades passed between Grindelwald and You-Know-Who? Do you think you will not see the next threat in your own lifetimes? Will you repeat then the follies of your parents, when you have seen the results so clearly laid out before you this day? For I can tell you what your parents will do, when the day of darkness comes! I can tell you what lesson they have learned! They have learned to hide like cowards and do nothing while they wait for Harry Potter to save them!"

  There was a wondering look in the eyes of Headmaster Dumbledore; and other students gazed up at their Defense Professor with bewilderment and anger and awe.

  Professor Quirrell's eyes were as cold now as his voice. "Mark this, and mark it well. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named wished to rule over this country, to hold it in his cruel grasp forever. But at least he wished to rule over a living country, and not a heap of ash! There have been Dark Lords who were mad, who wished only to make the world a vast funeral pyre! There have been wars in which one whole country marched against another! Your parents nearly lost against half a hundred, who thought to take this country alive! How quickly would they have been crushed by a foe more numerous than they, a foe that cared for nothing but their destruction? This I foretell: When the next threat rises, Lucius Malfoy will claim that you must follow him or perish, that your only hope is to trust in his cruelty and strength. And though Lucius Malfoy himself will believe it, this will be a lie. For when the Dark Lord perished, Lucius Malfoy did not unite the Death Eaters, they were shattered in an instant, they fled like whipped dogs and betrayed each other! Lucius Malfoy is not strong enough to be a true Lord, Dark or otherwise."

  Draco Malfoy's fists were clenched white, there were tears in his eyes, and fury, and unbearable shame.

  "No," said Professor Quirrell, "I do not think it will be Lucius Malfoy who saves you. And lest you think that I speak on my own behalf, time will make clear soon enough that this is not so. I make you no recommendation, my students. But I say that if a whole country were to find a leader as strong as the Dark Lord, but honorable and pure, and take his Mark; then they could crush any Dark Lord like an insect, and all the rest of our divided magical world could not threaten them.
And if some still greater enemy rose against us in a war of extermination, then only a united magical world could survive."

  There were gasps, mostly from Muggleborns; the students in green-trimmed robes looked merely puzzled. Now it was Harry Potter whose fists were clenched tight and trembling; and Hermione Granger beside him was angry and dismayed.

  The Headmaster rose from his seat, his face now stern, saying no word as yet; but the command was clear.

  "I do not say what threat will come," said Professor Quirrell. "But you will not live all your lives in peace, not if the past history of the world is any guide at all to its future. And if you do in the future as you have seen three armies do this day, if you cannot throw aside your petty bickering and take the Mark of a single leader, then indeed you might wish that the Dark Lord had lived to rule over you, and regret the day that ever Harry Potter was born -"

  "Enough!" bellowed Albus Dumbledore.

  There was silence.

  Professor Quirrell slowly turned his head to gaze at where Albus Dumbledore stood in the fury of his wizardry; their eyes met, and a soundless stress pressed down like weight upon all the students, as they listened not daring to move.

  "You, too, failed this country," said Professor Quirrell. "And you know the peril as well as I."

  "Such speeches are not for the ears of students," said Albus Dumbledore in a dangerously rising voice. "Nor for the mouths of professors!"

  Dryly, then, Professor Quirrell spoke: "There were many speeches made for the ears of adults, as the Dark Lord rose. And the adults clapped and cheered, and went home having enjoyed their day's entertainment. But I will obey you, Headmaster, and make no further speeches if you do not like them. My lesson is simple. I will go on doing nothing about traitors, and we will see what students can do for themselves about that, when they do not wait for professors to save them."