Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality (24 page)

Harry started applauding. He couldn’t help himself, it was too inspiring.

Once Harry started clapping there was some scattered response from Gryffindor, and more from Slytherin, but most students simply seemed too stunned to react.

Professor Quirrell made a cutting gesture, and the applause died instantly. “Thank you very much,” said Professor Quirrell. “Now to practicalities. I have combined all my first-year Battle classes into one, which allows me to offer you twice as much classroom time as Doubles sessions -”

There were gasps of horror.

“- an increased load which I will make up to you by not assigning any homework.”

The gasps of horror cut off abruptly.

“Yes, you heard me correctly. I will teach you to fight, not to write twelve inches on fighting due Monday.”

Harry desperately wished he’d sat next to Hermione so he could see the look on her face now, but on the other hand he was pretty sure he was imagining it accurately.

Also Harry was in love. It would be a three-way wedding: him, the Time-Turner, and Professor Quirrell.

“For those of you who so choose, I have arranged some after-school activities that I think you will find quite interesting as well as educational. Do you want to show the world your
own
abilities instead of watching fourteen other people play Quidditch? More than seven people can fight in an army.”

Hot
damn.

“These and other after-school activities will also earn you Quirrell points. What are Quirrell points, you ask? The House point system does not suit my needs, because it makes House points too rare. I prefer to let my students know how they are doing more frequently than that. And on the rare occasions I offer you a written test, it will mark itself as you go along, and if you get too many related questions wrong, your test will show the names of students who got those questions right, and those students will be able to earn Quirrell points by helping you.”

…wow. Why didn’t the other professors use a system like that?

“What good are Quirrell points, you wonder? For a start, ten Quirrell points will be worth one House point. But they will earn you other favors as well. Would you like to take your exam at an unusual time? Is there a particular session you would very much prefer to skip? You will find that I can be very flexible on behalf of students who have accumulated enough Quirrell points. Quirrell points will control the generalship of the armies. And for Christmas - just before the Christmas break - I will grant someone a wish. Any school-related feat that lies within my power, my influence, or above all, my ingenuity. Yes, I was in Slytherin and I am offering to formulate a cunning plot on your behalf, if that is what it takes to accomplish your desire. This wish will go to whoever has earned the most Quirrell points within all seven years.”

That would be Harry.

“Now leave your books and loose items at your desks - they will be safe, the screens will watch over them for you - and come down onto this platform. It’s time to play a game called Who’s the Most Dangerous Student in the Classroom.”

Harry twisted his wand in his right hand and said “
Ma-ha-su!
”

There was another high-pitched “bing” from the floating blue sphere that Professor Quirrell had assigned to Harry as his target. That particular sound meant a perfect strike, which Harry had been gotten on nine out of his last ten attempts.

Somewhere Professor Quirrell had dug up a spell that was incredibly easy to pronounce,
and
had a ridiculously simple wand motion,
and
had a tendency to hit wherever you were currently looking at. Professor Quirrell had disdainfully proclaimed that real battle magic was far more difficult than this. That the hex was entirely useless in actual combat. That it was a barely ordered burst of magic whose only real content was the aiming, and that it would produce, when it hit, a pain briefly equivalent to being punched hard in the nose. That the sole purpose of this test was to see who was a fast learner, since Professor Quirrell was certain no one would have previously encountered this hex or anything like it.

Harry didn’t care about any of that.

“
Ma-ha-su!
”

A
red bolt of energy
shot out of his wand and struck the target and the blue sphere once again made the bing which meant the spell had
actually worked for him.

Harry was feeling like a real wizard for the first time since he’d come to Hogwarts. He wished the target would dodge like the little spheres that Ben Kenobi had used for training Luke, but for some reason Professor Quirrell had instead lined up all the students and targets in neat orders which made sure they wouldn’t fire on each other.

So Harry lowered his wand, skipped to the right, snapped up his wand and twisted and shouted “
Ma-ha-su!
”

There was a lower-pitched “dong” which meant he’d gotten it almost right.

Harry put his wand into his pocket, skipped back to the left and drew and fired another red bolt of energy.

The high-pitched bing which resulted was easily one of the most satisfying sounds he’d heard in his life. Harry wanted to scream in triumph at the top of his lungs.
I CAN DO MAGIC! FEAR ME, LAWS OF PHYSICS, I’M COMING TO VIOLATE YOU!

“
Ma-ha-su!
” Harry’s voice was loud, but hardly noticeable over the steady chant of similar cries from around the classroom platform.

“Enough,” said Professor Quirrell’s amplified voice. (It didn’t sound loud. It sounded like normal volume, coming from just behind your left shoulder, no matter where you were standing relative to Professor Quirrell.) “I see that all of you have succeeded at least once now.” The target-spheres turned red and began to drift up towards the ceiling.

Professor Quirrell was standing on the raised dais in the center of the platform, leaning slightly on his teacher’s desk with one hand.

“I told you,” Professor Quirrell said, “that we would play a game called Who’s the Most Dangerous Student in the Classroom. There is one student in this classroom who mastered the Sumerian Simple Strike Hex faster than anyone else -”

Oh blah blah blah.

“- and went on to help seven other students. For which she has earned the first seven Quirrell points awarded to your year. Come forth, Hermione Granger. It is time for the next stage of the game.”

Hermione Granger began striding forwards, a mixed look of triumph and apprehension on her face. The Ravenclaws looked on proudly, the Slytherins with glares, and Harry with frank annoyance. Harry had done fine this time. He was probably even in the upper half of the class, now that everyone had been faced with an equally unfamiliar spell and Harry had read all the way through Adalbert Waffling’s
Magical Theory
. And yet
Hermione was still doing better
.

Somewhere in the back of his mind was the fear that Hermione was simply smarter than him.

But for now Harry was going to pin his hopes on the known facts that (a) Hermione had read a lot more than the standard textbooks and (b) Adalbert Waffling was an uninspired sod who’d written
Magical Theory
to pander to a school board that didn’t think much of eleven-year-olds.

Hermione reached the central dais and stepped up.

“Hermione Granger mastered a completely unfamiliar spell in two minutes, almost a full minute faster than the next runner-up.” Professor Quirrell turned slowly in place to look at all the students watching them. “Could Miss Granger’s intelligence make her the most dangerous student in the classroom? Well? What do you think?”

No one seemed to be thinking anything at the moment. Even Harry wasn’t sure what to say.

“Let’s find out, shall we?” said Professor Quirrell. He turned back to Hermione, and gestured toward the wider class. “Select any student you like and cast the Simple Strike Hex on them.”

Hermione froze where she stood.

“Come now,” Professor Quirrell said smoothly. “You have cast this spell perfectly over fifty times. It is not permanently harmful or even all that painful. It hurts as much as a hard punch and lasts only a few seconds.” Professor Quirrell’s voice grew harder. “This is a direct order from your professor, Miss Granger. Choose a target and fire a Simple Strike Hex.”

Hermione’s face was screwed up in horror and her wand was trembling in her hand. Harry’s own fingers were clenching his own wand hard in sympathy. Even though he could see what Professor Quirrell was trying to do. Even though he could see the point Professor Quirrell was trying to make.

“If you do
not
raise your wand and fire, Miss Granger, you will lose a Quirrell point.”

Harry stared at Hermione, willing her to look in his direction. His right hand was softly tapping his own chest.
Pick me, I’m not afraid…

Hermione’s wand twitched in her hand; then her face relaxed, and she lowered her wand to her side.

“No,” said Hermione Granger.

Her voice was calm, and even though it wasn’t loud, everyone heard it in the silence.

“Then I must deduct one point from you,” said Professor Quirrell. “This is a test, and you have failed it.”

That reached her. Harry could see it. But she kept her shoulders straight.

Professor Quirrell’s voice was sympathetic and seemed to fill the whole room. “Knowing things isn’t always enough, Miss Granger. If you cannot give and receive violence on the order of stubbing your toe, then you cannot defend yourself and you will not pass Defence. Please rejoin your classmates.”

Hermione walked back towards the Ravenclaw cluster. Her face looked peaceful and Harry, for some odd reason, wanted to start clapping. Even though Professor Quirrell had been
right
.

“So,” Professor Quirrell said. “It becomes clear that Hermione Granger is not the most dangerous student in the classroom. Who do you think might actually be the most dangerous person here? - besides me, of course.”

Without even thinking, Harry turned to look at the Slytherin contingent.

“Draco, of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Malfoy,” said Professor Quirrell. “It seems that many of your fellow pupils are looking in your direction. Come forth, if you would.”

Draco did so, walking with a certain pride in his bearing. He stepped onto the dais and looked up at Professor Quirrell with a smile.

“Mr. Malfoy,” Professor Quirrell said. “Fire.”

Harry would have tried to stop it if there’d been time but in one smooth motion Draco spun on the Ravenclaw contingent and raised his wand and said “
Mahasu!
” like it was all one syllable and Hermione was saying “Ow!” and that was that.

“Well struck,” said Professor Quirrell. “Two Quirrell points to you. But tell me, why did you target Miss Granger?”

There was a pause.

Finally Draco said, “Because she stood out the most.”

Professor Quirrell’s lips turned up in a thin smile. “And that is the true reason why Draco Malfoy is dangerous. Had he selected any other, that child would more likely resent being singled out, and Mr. Malfoy would more probably make an enemy. And while Mr. Malfoy might have given some other justification for selecting her, that would have served him no purpose save to alienate some of you, while others are already cheering him whether he says anything or not. Which is to say that Mr. Malfoy is dangerous because he knows who to strike and who not to strike, how to make allies and avoid making enemies. Two more Quirrell points to you, Mr. Malfoy. And as you have demonstrated an exemplary virtue of Slytherin, I think that Salazar’s House has earned a point as well. You may rejoin your friends.”

Draco bowed slightly and walked back to the Slytherin contingent. Some clapping started from the green-trimmed robes, but Professor Quirrell made a cutting gesture and silence fell again.

“It might seem that our game is done,” said Professor Quirrell. “And yet there is a single student in this classroom who is more dangerous than the scion of Malfoy.”

And
now
for some reason there seemed to be an awful lot of people looking at…

“Harry Potter. Come forth.”

This did not bode well.

Harry reluctantly walked towards where Professor Quirrell stood on his raised dais, still leaning slightly against his teacher’s desk.

The nervousness of being put into the spotlight seemed to be sharpening Harry’s wits as he approached the dais, and his mind was ruffling through possibilities for what Professor Quirrell might think could demonstrate Harry’s dangerousness. Would he be asked to cast a spell? To defeat a Dark Lord?

Demonstrate his supposed immunity to the Killing Curse? Surely Professor Quirrell was too smart for
that
…

Harry stopped well short of the dais, and Professor Quirrell didn’t ask him to come any closer.

“The irony is,” said Professor Quirrell, “you all looked at the right person for entirely the wrong reasons. You are thinking,” Professor Quirrell’s lips twisted, “that Harry Potter has defeated the Dark Lord, and so must be very dangerous. Bah. He was one year old. Whatever quirk of fate killed the Dark Lord likely had little to do with Mr. Potter’s abilities as a fighter. But after I heard rumors of one Ravenclaw facing down five older Slytherins, I interviewed several eyewitnesses and came to the conclusion that Harry Potter would be my most dangerous student.”

A jolt of adrenaline poured into Harry’s system, making him stand up straighter. He didn’t know what conclusion Professor Quirrell had come to, but that couldn’t be good.

“Ah, Professor Quirrell -” Harry started to say.

Professor Quirrell looked amused. “You’re thinking that I’ve come up with a wrong answer, aren’t you, Mr. Potter? You will learn to expect better of
me
.” Professor Quirrell straightened from where he had leaned on the desk. “Mr. Potter, all things have their accustomed uses. Give me ten unaccustomed uses of objects in this room for combat!”

For a moment Harry was rendered speechless by the sheer, raw shock of having been understood.

And then the ideas started to pour out.

“There are desks which are heavy enough to be fatal if dropped from a great height. There are chairs with metal legs that could impale someone if driven hard enough. The air in this classroom would be deadly by its absence, since people die in vacuum, and it can serve as a carrier for poison gases.”