Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality

by Eliezer Yudkowsky

  And Harry remembered the stars, remembered them burning terribly bright and unwavering in the Silent Night; he let that image fill him, fill all of him like an Occlumency barrier across his entire mind, became once again the bodiless awareness of the void.

  The bright silver shining phoenix vanished.

  And the Dementor smashed into his mind like the fist of God.

  FEAR / COLD / DARKNESS

  There was an instant when the two forces clashed head-on, when the peaceful starlit memory held its own against the fear, even as Harry's fingers began the wand motions, practiced until they had become automatic. They weren't warm and happy, those blazing points of light in perfect blackness; but it was an image the Dementor could not easily pierce. For the silent burning stars were vast and unafraid, and to shine in the cold and darkness was their natural state.

  But there was a flaw, a crack, a fault-line in the immovable object trying to resist that irresistible force. Harry felt a twinge of anger at the Dementor for trying to feed on him, and it was like slipping on wet ice. Harry's mind began to slide sideways, into bitterness, black fury, deathly hatred -

  Harry's wand came up in the final brandish.

  It felt wrong.

  "Expecto Patronum," his voice spoke, the words hollow and pointless.

  And Harry fell into his dark side, fell down into his dark side, further and faster and deeper than ever before, down down down as the slide accelerated, as the Dementor latched onto the exposed and vulnerable parts and fed on them, eating away the light. A fading reflex scrabbled for warmth, but even as an image of Hermione came to him, or an image of Mum and Dad, the Dementor twisted it, showed him Hermione lying dead on the ground, the corpses of his mother and father, and then even that was sucked away.

  Into the vacuum rose the memory, the worst memory, something forgotten so long ago that the neural patterns shouldn't have still existed.

  "Lily, take Harry and go! It's him!" shouted a man's voice. "Go! Run! I'll hold him off!"

  And Harry couldn't help but think, in the empty depths of his dark side, how ridiculously overconfident James Potter had been. Hold off Lord Voldemort? With what?

  Then the other voice spoke, high-pitched like the hiss of a teakettle, and it was like dry ice laid on Harry's every nerve, like a brand of metal cooled to liquid helium temperatures and laid on every part of him. And the voice said:

  "Avadakedavra."

  (The wand flew from the boy's nerveless fingers as his body began to convulse and fall, the Headmaster's eyes widening in alarm as he began his own Patronus Charm.)

  "Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!" screamed the woman's voice.

  Whatever was left of Harry listened with all the light drained out of him, in the dead void of his heart, and wondered if she thought that Lord Voldemort would stop because she asked politely.

  "Step aside, woman!" said the shrill voice of burning cold. "For you I am not come, only the boy."

  "Not Harry! Please... have mercy... have mercy..."

  Lily Potter, Harry thought, seemed not to understand what type of people became Dark Lords in the first place; and if this was the best strategy she could conceive to save her child's life, that was her final failure as a mother.

  "I give you this rare chance to flee," said the shrill voice. "But I will not trouble myself to subdue you, and your death here will not save your child. Step aside, foolish woman, if you have any sense in you at all!"

  "Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead!"

  The empty thing that was Harry wondered if Lily Potter seriously imagined that Lord Voldemort would say yes, kill her, and then depart leaving her son unharmed.

  "Very well," said the voice of death, now sounding coldly amused, "I accept the bargain. Yourself to die, and the child to live. Now drop your wand so that I can murder you."

  There was a hideous silence.

  Lord Voldemort began to laugh, horrible contemptuous laughter.

  And then, at last, Lily Potter's voice shrieked in desperate hate, "Avada ke-"

  The lethal voice finished first, the curse rapid and precise.

  "Avadakedavra."

  A blinding flare of green marked the end of Lily Potter.

  And the boy in the crib saw it, the eyes, those two crimson eyes, seeming to glow bright red, to blaze like miniature suns, filling Harry's whole vision as they locked to his own -

  The other children saw Harry Potter fall, they heard Harry Potter scream, a thin high-pitched scream that seemed to pierce their ears like knives.

  There was a brilliant silver flash as the Headmaster bellowed "Expecto Patronum!" and the blazing phoenix returned to being.

  But Harry Potter's horrible scream went on and on and on, even as the Headmaster scooped up the boy in his arms and bore him away from the Dementor, even as Neville Longbottom and Professor Flitwick both went for the chocolate at the same time and -

  Hermione knew it, she knew it as she saw it, she knew that her nightmare had been real, it was coming true, somehow it was coming true.

  "Get him chocolate!" demanded the voice of Professor Quirrell, pointlessly, because Professor Flitwick's tiny form was already cannonballing toward where the Headmaster was racing toward the students.

  Hermione was moving forward herself, though she didn't know what else she meant to do -

  "Cast Patronuses!" shouted the Headmaster, as he brought Harry behind the Aurors. "Everyone who can! Get them between Harry and the Dementor! It's still feeding on him!"

  There was a moment of frozen horror.

  "Expecto Patronum!" shouted Professor Flitwick and Auror Goryanof, and then Anthony Goldstein, but he failed the first time, and then Parvati Patil, who succeeded, and then Anthony tried again and his silver bird spread its wings and screamed at the Dementor, and Dean Thomas roared the words like they had been written in letters of fire and his wand gave birth to a towering white bear; there were eight blazing Patronuses all in a line between Harry and the Dementor, and Harry went on screaming and screaming as the Headmaster laid him on the dried grass.

  Hermione couldn't cast a Patronus Charm, so she ran toward where Harry lay. In her mind, something tried to guess how long it had been already. Was it twenty seconds? More?

  There was a dreadful agony and bewilderment on the face of Albus Dumbledore. His long black wand was in his hand, but he spoke no spells, only looked down at Harry's convulsing body in horror -

  Hermione didn't know what to do, she didn't know what to do, she didn't understand what was happening, and the most powerful wizard in the world seemed equally at a loss.

  "Use your phoenix!" bellowed Professor Quirrell. "Take him far away from that Dementor!"

  Without a single word the Headmaster scooped up Harry in his arms and vanished in a crack of fire along with the suddenly appearing Fawkes; and the Headmaster's Patronus winked out, where it had guarded the Dementor.

  Horror and confusion and sudden babble.

  "Mr. Potter should recover," Professor Quirrell said, raising his voice, but his tone now calm once again, "I think it was just over twenty seconds."

  Then the blazing white phoenix appeared again, like it was flying before them from elsewhere, to Hermione Granger came the creature of moonlight, and it cried to her in Albus Dumbledore's voice:

  "It still feeds on him, even here! How? If you know, Hermione Granger, you must tell me! Tell me!"

  The senior Auror turned to stare at her, and so did many students. Professor Flitwick didn't turn, he was now leveling his wand on Professor Quirrell, who was holding out clearly empty hands.

  Seconds ticked past, uncounted.

  She couldn't remember it, she couldn't remember the nightmare clearly, she couldn't remember why she had thought it was possible, why she had been afraid -

  Hermione realized then what she ought to do, and it was the hardest decision of her life.

  What if whatever had happened to Harry, happened to her too?

  All her limbs cold as de
ath, her vision gone dark, fear overwhelming everything; she'd seen Harry dying, Mum and Dad dying, all her friends dying, everyone dying, so that in the end, when she died, she would be alone. That was her secret nightmare she'd never talked about with anyone, that had given the Dementor its power over her, the loneliest thing was to die alone.

  She didn't want to go to that place again, she, she didn't, she didn't want to stay there forever -

  You have courage enough for Gryffindor, said the calm voice of the Sorting Hat in her memory, but you will do what is right in any House I give you. You will learn, you will stand by your friends, in any House you choose. So don't be afraid, Hermione Granger, just decide where you belong...

  There was no time for deciding, Harry was dying.

  "I can't remember now," said Hermione, her voice cracking, "but just hold on, I'll go in front of the Dementor again..."

  She started to run toward the Dementor.

  "Miss Granger!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, but he made no move to stop her, only kept holding his wand on Professor Quirrell.

  "Everyone!" shouted Auror Komodo in a voice of military command. "Get your Patronuses out of her way!"

  "FLITWICK!" roared Professor Quirrell. "SUMMON POTTER'S WAND!"

  Even as Hermione understood, Professor Flitwick was already crying "Accio!", and she saw the stick of wood zooming up from where it had lain almost touching the Dementor's cage.

  The eyes opened, dead and vacant.

  "Harry!" gasped a voice in the colorless world. "Harry! Speak to me!"

  The face of Albus Dumbledore leaned over into the field of vision, which had been occupied by a distant marble ceiling.

  "You're annoying," said the empty voice. "You should die."

  Chapter 44: Humanism, Pt 2

  "Fawkes," said Albus Dumbledore, his voice cracking, "help him, please -"

  A brilliant creature of red-gold shuffled into the field of vision, looking down quizzically; and it began to croon.

  The meaningless chirps slid off the emptiness, there was nothing onto which they could hold.

  "You're noisy," said the voice, "you should die."

  "Chocolate," Albus Dumbledore said, "you need chocolate, and your friends - but I dare not take you back -"

  Then a shining raven came, and spoke in Professor Flitwick's voice; whereupon Albus Dumbledore gasped in sudden comprehension, and cursed aloud at his own stupidity.

  The empty thing laughed at that, for it had retained the capacity to be amused.

  And a moment later they had all vanished in another flash of fire.

  It was only a moment, it seemed, between when Flitwick's raven had flown to elsewhere, and when Albus Dumbledore reappeared in another crack of red and golden fire with Harry in his arms; but somehow in that time Hermione had already managed to fill her hands with chocolate.

  Before Hermione even got there, chocolate had zoomed off the table and straight into Harry's mouth, which a tiny part of her mind said was unfair, he'd gotten a chance to do it for her -

  Harry spat the chocolate back out again.

  "Go away," said a voice so empty it wasn't even cold.

  ...

  Everything seemed to freeze, everyone who had been moving toward Harry halted, all movements broken by the shock of those two dead words.

  Then: "No," said Albus Dumbledore, "I will not," and time resumed again, even as another piece of chocolate zoomed off the table and into Harry's mouth.

  Hermione was close enough now that she could see Harry's expression become more hateful, as his mouth chewed with a mechanical, unnatural rhythm.

  The Headmaster's voice was grim as iron. "Filius, call Minerva, tell her she must come at speed."

  Professor Flitwick whispered to his silver raven, and it flew into the air and vanished.

  Another piece of chocolate floated into Harry's mouth, and the mechanical chewing continued.

  There were more students gathering around where the Headmaster watched over Harry with grim eyes: Neville, Seamus, Dean, Lavender, Ernie, Terry, Anthony, none of them daring to approach any closer than Hermione had.

  "What can we do?" said Dean in a trembling voice.

  "Back off and give him more space -" said the dry voice of Professor Quirrell.

  "No!" interrupted the Headmaster. "Let him be surrounded by his friends."

  Harry swallowed his chocolate, and said in that empty voice, "They're stupid. They should diemmmppphhh" as another piece of chocolate entered his mouth.

  Hermione saw the looks of shock that crossed their faces.

  "He doesn't mean it, does he?" Seamus said it like he was begging.

  "You don't understand," Hermione said, her voice breaking, "that's not Harry -" and she shut up before she said anything more, but she had to say that much.

  She saw from the look on his face that Neville understood, and she also saw that the others didn't. If Harry had really never thought anything like that, then being exposed to a Dementor for less than a minute wouldn't have made him say it. That's what they were probably thinking.

  Less than a minute of Dementor exposure couldn't create a whole new evil person inside you out of nothing.

  But if that person was already there -

  Does the Headmaster know?

  Hermione looked up at the Headmaster, and found that Albus Dumbledore was gazing at her, and that his blue eyes had grown suddenly piercing -

  Words came into her mind.

  Do not speak of it, said the will of Dumbledore to her.

  You know, thought Hermione. About his dark side.

  I know. But this is beyond even that. Fawkes's song cannot reach him, where he is lost.

  What can we -

  I have a plan, sent the Headmaster. Patience.

  Something about the tenor of that thought made Hermione nervous. What sort of plan?

  It is better that you not know, sent the Headmaster.

  Now Hermione was getting really nervous. She didn't know how much the Headmaster knew about Harry's dark side -

  A fair point, sent the Headmaster. I am about to tell you; steel yourself so as not to react. Are you ready? Good. I am going to pretend to cast the Killing Curse on Professor McGonagall - DO NOT REACT, Hermione!

  That took work. The Headmaster really was crazy! That wouldn't bring Harry out of his dark side, Harry would go completely berserk, he'd kill the Headmaster -

  But that is not true darkness, sent Albus Dumbledore. That is protectiveness, that is love. Fawkes will be able to reach him, then. And when Harry sees that Minerva is alive after all, it will return him fully.

  The thought came to Hermione -

  I doubt that will work, sent the Headmaster, and you may not like the way he reacts if you try. But you may try if you wish.

  She hadn't really meant that seriously! It was too -

  Then her eyes moved, breaking gaze with the Headmaster, going to the boy looking around with empty, despising eyes as his mouth kept chewing and swallowing bar after bar of chocolate without effect. Her heart wrenched, and suddenly a lot of things didn't seem to matter, only that there was a chance.

  There was a compulsion to chew and swallow chocolate. The response to compulsion was killing.

  People had gathered around and stared. That was annoying. The response to annoyance was killing.

  Other people were chattering in the background. That was insolent. The response to insolence was to inflict pain, but since none of them were useful, killing them would be simpler.

  Killing all those people would be difficult. But many of them didn't trust Quirrell, who was strong. Finding exactly the right trigger could cause them all to kill each other.

  Then a person leaned over into the field of vision and did something completely strange, something that belonged to a foreign mode of thought, for which there was only a single response stored anywhere -

  She heard the gasps around her, and they didn't matter, she maintained the kiss on those chocolate-smeared lips as the
tears welled in her eyes.

  And Harry's arms came up and pushed her away, and his lips yelled, "I told you, no kissing!"

  "I think he'll be all right now," the Headmaster said, looking at where Harry was crying in great wretched sobs as Fawkes crooned over him. "Excellently done, Miss Granger. Do you know, not even I would have expected that to actually work?"

  The phoenix's song wasn't meant for her, Hermione knew, but she could still be soothed by it, which she needed, because her life was officially over.

  Chapter 45: Humanism, Pt 3

  Fawkes's song gently trailed off into nothing.

  Harry sat up from where he had lain on the winter-blasted grass, Fawkes still perched on his shoulder.

  There were intakes of breath from all around him.

  "Harry," said Seamus in a wavering voice, "are you all right?"

  The peace of the phoenix was still in him, and warmth, from where Fawkes perched. Warmth, spreading out through him, and the memory of the song, still alive in the phoenix's presence. There were terrible things that had happened to him, terrible thoughts that had passed through him. He had regained an impossible memory, for all that the Dementor had made him desecrate it. A strange word kept echoing in his mind. And all of that could be put on hold for later, while the phoenix still shone red and gold beneath the setting sun.

  Fawkes cawed at him.

  "Something I have to do?" Harry said to Fawkes. "What?"

  Fawkes bobbed its head in the direction of the Dementor.

  Harry looked at the unseeable horror still in its cage, then back at the phoenix, puzzled.

  "Mr. Potter?" said Minerva McGonagall's voice from behind him. "Are you all right?"

  Harry climbed to his feet and turned.

  Minerva McGonagall was looking at him, looking very worried; Albus Dumbledore beside her was studying him carefully; Filius Flitwick appeared tremendously relieved; and all the students were just plain staring.

  "I think so, Professor McGonagall," Harry said calmly. He'd almost said Minerva before managing to stop himself. While Fawkes was on his shoulder, at least, Harry was fine; it might be that he would collapse a moment after Fawkes left, but somehow thoughts like that didn't seem important. "I think I'm okay."