Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality (57 page)

At least Harry had the decency to be ashamed of being good at it.

It was a couple of hours later, and she was in a Hufflepuff study hall with Hannah, Susan, Leanne, and Megan. Professor Flitwick, surprisingly diffident for a teacher, had asked if she might possibly maybe help those four with their Charms homework for a while, even though they weren’t Ravenclaws, and Hermione had felt so proud she’d almost
burst
.

Hermione took a piece of parchment, spilled a little bit of ink on it, tore it into four pieces, crumpled them, and tossed the pieces on the table.

She
could have gotten it just from crumpling it, but doing all that made it more like garbage, and that helped when someone was first practicing the Disposal Charm.

Hermione sharpened her ears and eyes, and said, “Okay, try it.”

“
Everto.
”

“
Everto.
”

“
Everto.
”

“
Everto.
”

Hermione didn’t think she’d quite caught all the problems. “Can you all try it again?”

An hour later Hermione had concluded that (1), Leanne and Megan were sort of sloppy, but if you asked them to keep practicing something, they would, (2) Hannah and Susan were focused and driven to the point where you had to keep telling them to
slow down
and
relax
and
think
about things instead of
trying
so hard - it was odd to think that those two would soon be
hers
- and (3) she liked helping Hufflepuffs, the whole study hall had a very cheerful atmosphere.

When she left for dinner, she found the Boy-Who-Lived reading a book while he waited to escort her. It made her feel flattered, and also a little worried because Harry didn’t seem to really talk to
anyone
besides her.

“Did you know there’s a girl in Hufflepuff who’s a Metamorphmagus?” said Hermione as they headed toward the Great Hall. “She makes her hair really red, like stopsign red not Weasley red, and when she spilled hot tea on herself she turned into a black-haired boy until she got it under control again.”

“Really? Cool,” said Harry, sounding a bit distracted. “Um, Hermione, just to check, you know tomorrow is the last day to sign up for Professor Quirrell’s armies, right?”

“Yes,” Hermione said. “The armies of the evil Professor Quirrell.” Her voice was a little angry, though Harry didn’t know why, of course.

“Hermione,” Harry said, his voice exasperated, “he’s not evil. He’s a little bit Dark and a whole lot Slytherin. It’s not the same as being
evil
.”

Harry Potter had too many words for things, that was his problem. He would have been better off if he’d just divided the universe into Good and Bad. “Professor Quirrell called me up in front of the whole class and told me to
shoot someone!
”

“He was right,” Harry said, his face sober. “I’m sorry, Hermione, but he was. You should have shot
me,
I wouldn’t have minded. You can’t learn Battle Magic if you can’t practice against real opponents using real spells. And now you’re doing okay in sparring, aren’t you?”

Hermione was only twelve, and so she knew, but she couldn’t put it into words, she couldn’t find the thing to say that would convince Harry.

Professor Quirrell had taken a young girl and called up that girl in front of everyone, and ordered her to open fire without provocation on a classmate.

It didn’t
matter
if Professor Quirrell was right about her needing to learn it.

Professor McGonagall wouldn’t ever have done that.

Professor Flitwick wouldn’t ever have done that.

Maybe not even Professor Snape would have done that.

Professor Quirrell was
EVIL
.

But she couldn’t find the words, and she knew that Harry would never believe her.

“Hermione, I’ve talked to older students,” Harry said. “Professor Quirrell could be the
only
competent Defense Professor we get in all seven years at Hogwarts. Anything else we can learn later. If we want to study Defense, we have to do it
this year.
The students who sign up for the extracurricular stuff are going to be learning huge amounts, way beyond what the Ministry thinks first-years are supposed to study - did you know we’re going to be learning the Patronus Charm? In
January?
”

“The
Patronus Charm?
” Hermione said, her voice going up in surprise.

Her books said that was one of the brightest magics known, a weapon against the Darkest creatures, cast with pure positive emotions. It wasn’t something she’d expect the evil Professor Quirrell to teach - or arrange to be taught, since Hermione couldn’t imagine he could do the spell himself.

“Yes,” Harry said. “Students don’t usually learn the Patronus Charm until their fifth years or even later! But Professor Quirrell says the Ministry schedules were made up by talking Flobberworms, and the ability to cast the Patronus Charm depends on emotions more than magical strength. Professor Quirrell says that he thinks most students do
way
less than they can, and this year he’s going to prove it.”

There was the usual tone of awed worship that Harry’s voice had when he talked about Professor Quirrell, and Hermione gritted her teeth and kept walking.

“I already signed up, actually,” Hermione said, her voice a little quiet. “I did it this morning. For everything, just like you said.”

In for a penny, in for a pound
was the usual expression.

Besides, she didn’t want to
lose
, and if she wanted to win she had to learn.

“So you
will
be in the armies, then?” Harry’s voice was suddenly enthusiastic. “That’s awesome, Hermione! I’ve already gotten my list of soldiers, but I’m sure Professor Quirrell will let me add one more, or trade -”

“I’m not joining
your
army.” Hermione’s voice was sharp. She knew it was a reasonable assumption but it
still
annoyed her.

Harry blinked. “Not Draco Malfoy’s, surely. So you want to be in the third army? Even though we don’t know who the general
is
yet?” Harry sounded surprised and a little wounded, and she couldn’t blame him, though of course she did blame him, since in fact it was all his fault. “But why not mine?”

“Think about it,” Hermione snapped, “and maybe you’ll work it out!”

And she sped up her stride and left Harry gaping behind her.

“Professor Quirrell,” Draco said in his most formal voice, “I must protest your appointment of Hermione Granger as the third general.”

“Oh?” said Professor Quirrell, leaning back in his chair in a casual and relaxed manner. “Protest away, Mr. Malfoy.”

“Granger is unfit for the position,” said Draco.

Professor Quirrell tapped a finger on his cheek thoughtfully. “Why yes, yes she is. Do you have any further protests?”

“Professor Quirrell,” said Harry Potter beside him, “with all due respect to Miss Granger’s many outstanding academic talents and the Quirrell points she has justly earned in your classes, her personality is not suited to military command.”

Draco had been relieved when Harry had agreed to accompany him to Professor Quirrell’s office. It wasn’t
just
that Harry was a gigantic blatant teacher’s pet where Professor Quirrell was concerned. Draco had also started to worry that Harry actually
was
friends with Granger, it had been a while now and he
still
hadn’t made his move… but this was more like it.

“I agree with Mr. Potter,” said Draco. “Appointing her as a general turns it into a farce.”

“Harshly put,” said Harry, “but I cannot bring myself to disagree with Mr. Malfoy. To be blunt, Professor Quirrell, Hermione Granger has around as much intent to kill as a bowl of wet grapes.”

“That,” said Professor Quirrell mildly, “is not a thing I would fail to notice myself. You are telling me nothing I do not already know.”

It was Draco’s turn to say something, but the conversation had suddenly hiccupped. That answer had
not
been in the possibilities he and Harry had brainstormed before coming here. What
did
you say after the teacher said that he knew everything you knew and he was still going to commit an obvious mistake?

The silence stretched.

“Is this some sort of plot?” Harry said slowly.

“Must everything I do be some sort of plot?” said Professor Quirrell. “Can’t I ever create chaos just for the sake of chaos?”

Draco almost choked.

“Not in your Battle Magic class,” Harry said with calm certainty. “Other places, maybe, but not there.”

Professor Quirrell slowly raised his eyebrows.

Harry gazed steadily back at him.

Draco shivered.

“Well then,” Professor Quirrell said. “Neither of you seem to have considered a very simple question. Who could I appoint instead of Miss Granger?”

“Blaise Zabini,” Draco said without hesitation.

“Any other suggestions?” said Professor Quirrell, sounding quite amused.

Anthony Goldstein and Ernie Macmillan,
came the thought, before Draco’s common sense kicked in and ruled out mudbloods and Hufflepuffs no matter how aggressively they dueled. So instead Draco just said, “What’s wrong with Zabini?”

“I
see
…” Harry said slowly.

“I
don’t,
” said Draco. “Why not Zabini?”

Professor Quirrell looked at Draco. “Because, Mr. Malfoy, no matter how hard he tries, he’ll never be able to keep up with you or Mr. Potter.”

The shock of it staggered Draco. “You can’t believe
Granger
is going to -”

“He’s gambling on her,” Harry said quietly. “It’s not guaranteed. The odds aren’t even good. She’ll probably never give us a good fight, and even if she does, it may take her months to learn. But she’s the only one in our year with any chance at all of growing to beat us.”

Draco’s hands twitched but didn’t clench into fists. Showing up as your supporter and then backing out was a classic undermining tactic, so Harry Potter
was
in it with Granger and
that
implied -

“But Professor,” Harry went on smoothly, “I’m worried Hermione will be
miserable
as the general of an army. I’m speaking as her friend now, Professor Quirrell. The competition might be good for Draco and me, but what you’re asking her to do isn’t good for
her!
”

Never mind.

“Your friendship for Hermione Granger does you credit,” Professor Quirrell said dryly. “Especially as you are able to be friends with Draco Malfoy at the same time. Quite a feat, that.”

Harry suddenly looked a little nervous, meaning he probably felt a lot
more
nervous, and Draco silently swore to himself. Of course Harry wasn’t going to fool Professor Quirrell.

“And I doubt Miss Granger would appreciate your friendly concern,” said Professor Quirrell. “She asked me for the position, Mr. Potter, I did not ask her.”

Harry was quiet at this for a moment. Then he flashed Draco a quick look that mixed apology and warning, saying at the same time,
Sorry, I did my best
and
We’d better not press it any further.

“As for her being miserable,” Professor Quirrell went on, a slight smile now playing about his lips, “I suspect that she will have a much easier time with the rigors of her position than either of you suspect, and that she will put up a good fight much sooner than you think.”

Harry and Draco both gasped in horror.

“You’re not going to
advise
her, are you?” said Draco, utterly aghast.

“I never signed up to fight
you!
” said Harry.

The smile playing around Professor Quirrell’s lips grew wider. “As a matter of fact, I
did
offer to share a few suggestions regarding Miss Granger’s first battles.”

“
Professor Quirrell!
” said Harry.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Professor Quirrell said. “She turned me down. Just as I expected.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed.

“Dear me, Mr. Potter,” said Professor Quirrell, “didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to stare?”

“You’re not going to secretly help her some
other
way, are you?” said Harry.

“Would I do that?” said Professor Quirrell.

“Yes,” said Draco and Harry at the same time.

“I am wounded by your lack of trust. Well then, I promise not to help General Granger in any way that the two of you don’t know about. And now I suggest that both of you be about your military affairs. November approaches, and swiftly.”

Draco saw the implications before the door had closed all the way behind them on their way out of Professor Quirrell’s office.

Harry had once spoken dismissively of “people stuff”.

And now that was Draco’s only hope.

Let him not realize, let him not realize…

“We should just attack the Granger girl first and get her out of our way,” said Draco. “After we crush her, we can have our own contest without any distractions.”

“Now that doesn’t really seem fair to her, does it?” said Harry in a mild voice.

“What do
you
care?” said Draco. “She’s your rival, right?” Then, with just the right note of suspicion in his voice, “Don’t tell me you’ve started
really
liking her, after being her rival all this time…”

“Founders forbid,” said Harry. “What can I say, Draco? I merely have a natural sense of justice. Granger does too, you know. She has a very firm grasp on good and evil, and she’s probably going to attack evil first. Having a name like ‘Malfoy’ is just asking for it, you know.”

DAMN IT!

“Harry,” said Draco, sounding wounded and maybe a little superior, “don’t you want to fight
fairly
against me?”

“You mean rather than attacking you after you’ve already lost some of your forces beating Granger?” said Harry. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe after I get bored with just winning I’ll try that ‘fair’ thing.”

“Maybe she’ll attack
you,
” Draco said. ”
You’re
her rival.”

“But I’m her
friendly
rival,” Harry said with an evil grin. “I bought her a nice birthday present and everything. You wouldn’t go around sabotaging your friendly rival like that.”