Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality (19 page)

The picture of a lady sighed. “I’m only a picture, young man. I remember Hogwarts as it was - not Hogwarts as it is. All I can tell you is that if this were a riddle, the answer would be that the game is life, and that while we do not make all the rules ourselves, the one who awards or takes points is always you. If it is not riddle but reality - then I do not know.”

Harry bowed very low to the picture. “Thank you, milady.”

The lady curtseyed to him. “I wish I could say that I’ll remember you with fondness,” she said, “but I probably won’t remember you at all. Farewell, Harry Potter.”

He bowed again in reply, and started to climb down the nearest flight of stairs.

Four left turns later he found himself staring down a corridor that ended, abruptly, in a tumbled mound of large rocks - as if there had been a cave-in, only the surrounding walls and ceiling were intact and made of quite regular castle stones.

“All right,” Harry said to the empty air, “I give up. I’m asking for another hint. How do I get to where I need to go?”

“A hint! A hint, you say?”

The excited voice came from a painting on the wall not far away, this one a portrait of a middle-aged man in the loudest pink robes that Harry had ever seen or even imagined. In the portrait he was wearing a droopy old pointed hat with a fish on it (not a drawing of a fish, mind, but a fish).

“Yes!” Harry said. “A hint! A hint, I say! Only not just
any
hint, I’m looking for a
specific
hint, it’s for a game I’m playing -”

“Yes, yes! A hint for the game! You’re Harry Potter, aren’t you? I’m Cornelion Flubberwalt! I was told by Erin the Consort who was told by Lord Weaselnose who was told by, I forget really. But it was a message for
me
to give to you! For
me!
No one’s cared about me in, I don’t know how long, maybe ever, I’ve been stuck down here in this bloody useless old corridor - a hint! I have your hint! It will only cost you three points! Do you want it?”

“Yes! I want it!” Harry was aware that he probably ought to keep his sarcasm under control but he just couldn’t seem to help himself.

“The darkness can be found between the green study rooms and McGonagall’s Transfiguration class! That’s the hint! And get a move on, you’re slower than a sack of snails! Minus ten points for being slow! Now you have 61 points! That was the rest of the message!”

“Thank you,” Harry said. He was really getting behind on the game here. “Um… I don’t suppose you know where the message
originally
came from, do you?”

“It was spoken by a hollow voice that belled forth from a gap within the air itself, a gap that opened upon a fiery abyss! That’s what they told me!”

Harry was no longer sure, at this point, whether this was the sort of thing he ought to be sceptical about, or the sort of thing he should just take in stride. “And how can I find the line between the green study rooms and Transfiguration class?”

“Just spin back around and go left, right, down, down, right, left, right, up, and left again, you’ll be at the green study room and if you go in and walk straight out the opposite side you’ll be on a big curvy corridor that goes to an intersection and on the right side of that intersection will be a long straight hallway that goes to the Transfiguration classroom!” The figure of the middle-aged man paused. “At least that’s how it was when
I
was in Hogwarts. This
is
a Monday on an odd-numbered year, isn’t it?”

“Pencil and mechanical paper,” Harry said to his pouch. “Er, cancel that, paper and mechanical pencil.” He looked up. “Could you repeat that?”

After getting lost another two times, Harry felt that he was beginning to understand the basic rule for navigating the ever-changing maze that was Hogwarts, namely,
ask a painting for directions
. If this reflected some sort of incredibly deep life lesson he couldn’t figure out what it was.

The green study room was a surprisingly pleasant space with sunlight streaming in from windows of green-stained glass that showed dragons in calm, pastoral scenes. It had chairs that looked extremely comfortable, and tables that seemed very well-suited to studying in the company of one to three friends.

Harry couldn’t
actually
walk straight through and out the door on the other side. There were
bookshelves
set into the wall, and he had to go over and read some of the titles, so as to not lose his claim to the Verres family name. But he did it quickly, mindful of the complaint about being slow, and then went out the other side.

He was walking down the “big curvy corridor” when he heard a young boy’s voice cry out.

At times like this, Harry had an excuse to sprint all-out with no regards for saving energy or doing proper warmup exercises or worrying about crashing into things, a sudden frantic flight that nearly came to an equally sudden halt as he almost ran over a group of six first-year Hufflepuffs…

…who were huddled together, looking rather scared and like they desperately wanted to do something but couldn’t figure out what, which probably had something to do with the group of five older Slytherins who seemed to be surrounding another young boy.

Harry was suddenly rather angry.

“
Excuse me!
” shouted Harry at the top of his lungs.

It might not have been necessary. People were already looking at him. But it certainly served to stop all the action cold.

Harry walked past the cluster of Hufflepuffs towards the Slytherins.

They looked down at him with expressions that ranged from anger to amusement to delight.

Part of Harry’s brain was screaming in panic that these were much older and bigger boys who could stomp him flat.

Another part said dryly that anyone caught seriously stomping the Boy-Who-Lived was in for a whole
world
of trouble, especially if they were a pack of older Slytherins and there were seven Hufflepuffs who saw it, and that the chance of them doing him any permanent damage in the presence of witnesses was nearly zero. The only real weapon the older boys had against him was his own fear, if he allowed that.

Then Harry saw that the boy they had trapped was Neville Longbottom.

Of course.

That settled it. Harry had decided to apologise humbly to Neville and that meant Neville was
his
, how
dare
they?

Harry reached out and grabbed Neville by the wrist and
yanked
him out from between the Slytherins, the boy stumbling in shock as Harry pulled him out and in nearly the same motion pushed his own way through the same gap.

And Harry stood in the center of the Slytherins where Neville had stood, looking up at the much older, larger, and stronger boys.

“Hello,” Harry said. “I’m the Boy-Who-Lived.”

There was a rather awkward pause. No one seemed to know where the conversation was supposed to go from there.

Harry’s eyes dropped downwards and saw some books and papers scattered around the floor. Oh, the old game where you let the boy try to pick up his books and then knock them out of his hand again. Harry couldn’t remember ever being the object of that game himself, but he had a good imagination and his imagination was making him furious. Well, once the larger situation was resolved it would be easy enough for Neville to come back and pick up his materials, provided that the Slytherins stayed too intent on him to think of doing anything to the books.

Unfortunately his straying eyes had been noted. “Ooh,” said the largest of the boys, “did ‘oo want the widdle books -”

“Shut up,” Harry said coldly.
Keep them off balance. Don’t do what they expect. Don’t fall into a pattern that calls for them to bully you.
“Is this part of some incredibly clever plan that will gain you future advantage, or is it as pointless a disgrace to the name of Salazar Slytherin as it -”

The largest boy shoved Harry Potter hard, and he went sprawling out of the circle of Slytherins onto the hard stone floor of Hogwarts.

And the Slytherins laughed.

Harry rose up in what seemed to him like terribly slow motion. He didn’t know yet how to use his wand, but there was no reason to let that stop him, under the circumstances.

“I’d like to pay
as many points as it takes
to get rid of this person,” Harry said, pointing with his finger to the largest Slytherin.

Then Harry lifted his other hand, said “Abracadabra,” and snapped his fingers.

At the word
Abracadabra
two of the Hufflepuffs screamed, including Neville, three other Slytherins leapt desperately out of the way of Harry’s finger, and the largest Slytherin staggered back with an expression of shock, a sudden splash of red decorating his face and neck and chest.

Harry had
not
been expecting
that
.

Slowly, the largest Slytherin reached up to his head, and peeled off the pan of cherry pie that had just draped itself over him. The largest Slytherin held the pan in his hand for a moment, staring at it, then dropped it to the floor.

It probably wasn’t the best time in the world for one of the Hufflepuffs to start laughing, but that was exactly what one of the Hufflepuffs was doing.

Then Harry caught sight of the note on the bottom of the pan.

“Hold on,” Harry said, and darted forward to pick up the note. “This note’s for me, I think -”

“
You,”
growled the largest Slytherin, “
you, are, going, to -
”

“
Look
at this!” shouted Harry, brandishing the note at the older Slytherin. “I mean, just
look
at this! Can you believe I’m being charged 30 points for shipping and handling on one lousy pie? 30 points! I’m turning a loss on the deal even after rescuing an innocent boy in distress! And storage fees? Conveyance charges? Drayage costs? How do you get
drayage costs
on a
pie?
”

There was another one of those awkward pauses. Harry thought deadly thoughts at whichever Hufflepuff couldn’t seem to stop giggling, that idiot was going to get him hurt.

Harry stepped back and shot the Slytherins his best lethal glare. “Now go away or I will just keep making your existence more and more surreal until you do. Let me warn you… messing with
my
life tends to make
your
life…
a little hairy.
Get it?”

In a single terrible motion, the largest Slytherin whipped his wand out to point at Harry and in the same instant was hit on the other side of his head by another pie, this one bright blueberry.

The note on this pie was rather large and clearly readable. “You might want to read the note on that pie,” Harry observed. “I think it’s for you this time.”

The Slytherin slowly reached up, took the pie pan, turned it over with a wet glop that dropped more blueberry on the floor, and read a note that said:

WARNING
NO
MAGIC MAY BE USED ON THE CONTESTANT
WHILE THE GAME IS IN PROGRESS
FURTHER INTERFERENCE IN THE GAME
WILL
BE REPORTED TO THE GAME AUTHORITIES

The expression of sheer bafflement on the Slytherin’s face was a look of art. Harry thought that he might be starting to like this Game Controller.

“Look,” Harry said, “you want to call it a day? I think things are spiralling out of control here. How about you go back to Slytherin and I go back to Ravenclaw and we all just cool down a bit, okay?”

“I’ve got a better idea,” hissed the largest Slytherin. “How about if you accidentally break all your fingers?”

“How in Merlin’s name do you stage a believable accident after making the threat in front of a dozen witnesses, you
idiot
-”

The largest Slytherin slowly, deliberately reached out towards Harry’s hands, and Harry froze in place, the part of his brain that was noticing the other boy’s age and strength finally managing to make itself heard, screaming,
WHAT THE HECK AM I DOING?

“Wait!” said one of the other Slytherins, his voice suddenly panicky. “Stop, you shouldn’t actually do that!”

The largest Slytherin ignored him, taking Harry’s right hand firmly in his left hand, and taking Harry’s index finger in his right hand.

Harry stared the Slytherin straight in the eyes. Part of Harry was screaming, this wasn’t supposed to happen, this wasn’t
allowed
to happen, grownups would never let something like this
actually
happen -

Slowly, the Slytherin started to bend his index finger backwards.

He hasn’t actually broken my finger and it is beneath me to so much as flinch until he does. Until then, this is just another attempt to cause fear.

“Stop!” said the Slytherin who had objected before. “Stop, this is a very bad idea!”

“I rather agree,” said an icy voice. An older woman’s voice.

The largest Slytherin let go of Harry’s hand and jumped backwards as if burned.

“Professor Sprout!” cried one of the Hufflepuffs, sounding as glad as anyone Harry had ever heard in his life.

Into Harry’s field of vision, as he turned, stalked a dumpy little woman with messily curled grey hair and clothes covered with dirt. She pointed an accusing finger at the Slytherins. “Explain yourselves,” she said. “What are you doing with my Hufflepuffs and…” she looked at him. “My fine student, Harry Potter.”

Uh oh. That’s right, it was HER class I missed this morning.

“He threatened to kill us!” blurted one of the other Slytherins, the same one who’d called for a halt.

“What?” Harry said blankly. “I did
not!
If I was going to kill you I wouldn’t make public threats first!”

A third Slytherin laughed helplessly and then stopped abruptly as the other boys shot him deadly glares.

Professor Sprout had adopted a rather sceptical expression. “What death threat would this be, exactly?”

“The Killing Curse! He pretended to use the Killing Curse on us!”

Professor Sprout turned to look at Harry. “Yes, quite a terrible threat from an eleven-year-old boy. Though still not something you should
ever
dream of pretending, Harry Potter.”