Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality (119 page)

It took all of five full seconds for Minerva’s brain to process the realization.

“ALBUS!”
she shrieked.

“My dear,” said the old wizard, “after you have dealt with your thirtieth hero or so, you will realize that they react quite predictably to certain things; such as being told that they are too young, or that they are not destined to be heroes, or that being a hero is unpleasant; and if you truly wish to be sure you should tell them all three. Although,” with a brief sigh, “it does not do to be
too
blatant, or your Deputy Headmistress might catch you.”

“Albus,” Minerva said, her voice even tighter, “if she is hurt, I swear this time I’ll -”

“She would have come to that same place in due time,” Albus said, the distant sad look still in his eyes. “If someone is meant to become a hero then they will not listen to our warnings, Minerva, no matter how hard we try. And given that, it is better for Harry if Miss Granger does not fall too far behind him.” Albus produced, as though from nowhere, a tin which flipped open to reveal small yellow lumps, she’d never been able to figure out where he kept it and she’d never been able to detect the magic involved. “Lemon drop?”

“
She is a twelve-year-old girl, Albus!
”

Afteraftermath:

Within the windows, barely visible in the evening gloom, fishes swam in the black waters; illuminated by the bright shine of the Slytherin common room as they came closer, fading into darkness as they swam away.

Daphne Greengrass was sitting in a comfortable black leather couch, her head collapsed into her hands, glowing golden-yellowish as bright sparks of white light winked in and out of existence around her.

She’d been ready to be teased about liking Neville Longbottom. She’d been expecting to hear a lot of snide remarks about Hufflepuffs. She’d thought of whole
reams
of snappy comebacks for it while she was on the way back to the Slytherin dungeons.

She’d been looking
forward
to being teased about liking Neville. Being teased about that sort of thing meant you’d grown up into a real girl.

As it turned out, nobody had worked out that her challenging Neville to a Most Ancient Duel meant that she liked him. She’d thought it would be
obvious
but no, nobody else had even thought of that apparently.

It was always the hex you didn’t see that hit you.

She should’ve just called herself Daphne of Sunshine, like Neville of Chaos. Or Sunny Daphne like Sunny Ron. Or
anything
except Greengrass of Sunshine.

Greengrass of Sunshine.

It had gone from there to Greengrass of Sunshine and Blue Skies.

Then someone had added Snow-Topped Mountains and Frolicking Woodland Creatures.

Currently she was being referred to as the Sparkly Unicorn Princess of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Sparklypoo.

And some cursed sixth-year girl had hit her with a Sparkling Jinx, she hadn’t even known there
was
such a thing as a Sparkling Jinx, and
Finite Incantatem
hadn’t worked, and she’d asked older girls who she’d
thought
were her friends (she had apparently been wrong about this) and then she’d threatened the caster with grievous political mayhem wreaked by her father and nonetheless Daphne Greengrass was still sitting in the Slytherin common room with her head in her hands, sparkling brightly and wondering how she’d ended up as the only sane person in Hogwarts.

It was
after dinnertime
and they were
still at it
and if they didn’t stop by tomorrow morning she was going to transfer to Durmstrang and become the next Dark Lady.

“Hey, everyone!” said the Carrow twins dramatically, waving an issue of the
Daily Prophet.
“Did you hear the news? The Wizengamot just ruled that ‘let’s see what you got’ constitutes a lawful challenge to be fought until the challenger lies down and has a nap!”

“How dare you insult the honor of the Sparkly Unicorn Princess!” shouted Tracey. “Let’s see what you got!” Then Tracey lay down flat on her sofa and started snoring loudly.

Daphne’s sparkling head sank further into her glowing hands. “After my family takes over I’m going to have you all put under anti-Apparition jinxes and Flooed into the sea,” she said to no one in particular. “You’re all okay with that, right?”

Thunk-thunk, thunk-thunk-thunk, thunk.

Daphne looked up, surprised; that was a Sunshine code-signal -

“
I hight someone knocking!
” bellowed Mr. Goyle. ”
Knocking of the door!
”

“
Let’s see what you’ve got, door!
” shouted an older boy near the door, and yanked the door open.

There was a moment of complete surprise.

“I’ve come to have a word with Miss Greengrass,” said the Sunshine General, sounding like she was trying to sound confident. “Could someone please -”

From the look on Hermione’s face she had just noticed Daphne sparkling.

And
that
was when Millicent Bulstrode raced up from the lower dorms and shouted, “Hey, everyone, guess what, now
Granger
went and beat up Derrick and what’s left of his crew, and his father owled him and said that if he didn’t -”

Millicent caught sight of Hermione standing in the doorway.

There was a very loud silence.

“Uh,” said Daphne.
What?
said her brain. “Uh, what’re you doing here, General?”

“Well,” said Hermione Granger with a strange smile on her face, “I’ve decided it’s not fair if mysterious old wizards give some people a chance to be heroes and not others, and also I’ve read history books and there aren’t nearly enough girl heroes in them. So I thought I’d just drop by and see if you wanted to be a hero and why are you glowing like that?”

There was another silence.

“This,” said Daphne, “was probably
not
the best time to ask me that question -”

“
I’ll take it!
” shouted Tracey Davis, leaping off her sofa.

And thus was born the Society for the Promotion of Heroic Equality for Witches.

Even if you had been the Deputy Headmistress for three decades, and a Transfiguration Professor before that, it was rare that you saw Albus Dumbledore caught completely flatfooted.

“…Susan Bones, Lavender Brown, and Daphne Greengrass,” Minerva finished. “I should also note, Albus, that Miss Granger’s account of your seemingly unsupportive attitude - I believe her phrase was ‘he said I should be happy to be just a sidekick’ - has generated a good deal of
interest
among the older girls. Several of whom came to me to ask if Miss Granger’s accusations were true, since Miss Granger had said that I was there.”

The old wizard leaned back in his huge chair, still gazing at her, his eyes looking rather abstracted beneath the half-moon glasses.

“It placed me in something of a dilemma, Albus,” said Professor McGonagall. Her face stayed quite neutral, she made sure of that. “I now know that you did not truly mean to discourage the girl. Quite the opposite, in fact. But you and Severus have often told me that to keep a secret I must give no sign that differs from the reaction of someone truly ignorant. Thus I had no choice but to confirm that Miss Granger’s account was accurate, and feign the appropriate degree of worry, with a slight overtone of offense. After all, had I
not
known you were deliberately manipulating Miss Granger, I might have been rather put out.”

“I… see,” the old wizard said slowly. His hands toyed absently with his silver beard, small quick gestures.

“Thankfully,” Professor McGonagall continued, “so far Professors Sinistra and Vector are the only two faculty members to don Miss Granger’s buttons.”

“Buttons?” repeated the old wizard.

Minerva drew forth a small silver disc bearing the initials S.P.H.E.W., laid it on Albus’s desk, and gave it a brief tap with her finger.

And the voices of Hermione Granger, Padma Patil, Parvati Patil, Lavender Brown, Susan Bones, Hannah Abbott, Daphne Greengrass, and Tracey Davis cried out in unison, “
We won’t settle for second best, it’s time to give a witch a quest!
”

“Miss Granger is selling them for two Sickles, and tells me that she has so far sold fifty of them. I believe that Nymphadora Tonks, in seventh-year Hufflepuff, is enchanting them for her. To conclude my report,” Professor McGonagall said briskly, “our eight newly minted heroines have asked permission to conduct a protest outside the entrance to your office.”

“I hope,” Albus said, frowning, “you explained to them that -”

“I explained to them that Wednesday at 7PM would be fine,” said Minerva. She took back the button from the Headmaster’s desk, favored Albus with a honeyed smile, and turned to the door.

“Minerva?” said the old wizard from behind her. “
Minerva!
”

The oaken door shut solidly behind her.

There wasn’t a lot of room between the brief stone walls that demarcated the vestibule to the Headmaster’s office, so although a lot of people had wanted to watch the protest, not many had been allowed to come. Just Professor Sinistra and Professor Vector, who were wearing the buttons, and the prefects Penelope Clearwater and Rose Brown and Jacqueline Preece, who were wearing the buttons. Behind
them,
Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick, who weren’t wearing the buttons, scrutinizing the whole affair. Harry Potter and the Head Boy of Hogwarts were there, and the boy prefects Percy Weasley and Oliver Beatson, all wearing the buttons to show Solidarity. And of course the eight founding members of S.P.H.E.W., forming a picket line next to the gargoyles with their signs. Hermione’s own sign, attached to a solid wooden handle which seemed to weigh heavier and heavier in her hands as the seconds passed, said NOBODY’S SIDEKICK.

And Professor Quirrell, who was leaning with his back against the far stone wall and watching with unreadable eyes. The Defense Professor had gotten one of her buttons, though she’d never sold one to him; and he wasn’t wearing it, but idly tossing it with one hand.

This whole idea had seemed like a much better idea four days ago, when the fires of her indignation had been burning fresh and hot, and she’d been facing the prospect of doing it all four days
later
instead of
right now.

But she had to carry on, because that was what heroes did, they carried on, and also because it had seemed infinitely too awful to tell everyone she was calling it off. Hermione wondered how much heroism had gone on for reasons like that. Most books didn’t
say
“And then they refused to give up, no matter how sensible it would have been, because that would’ve been too embarrassing”; but a great deal of history made a lot more sense that way.

At 7:15pm, Professor McGonagall had told her, Headmaster Dumbledore would come down and talk to them for a couple of minutes. Professor McGonagall had said not to be frightened - the Headmaster was a good person deep down, and they’d properly gotten the school’s authorization for the protest.

But Hermione was very very aware that even if she was doing it with signed permission, she was still Defying Authority.

After she’d decided to be a hero, Hermione had done the obvious thing, and gone to the Hogwarts library and taken out books on how to be a hero. Then she’d returned those books back to their shelves, because it’d been patently obvious that none of the authors had been actual heroes themselves. Instead she’d just read five times over, until she’d memorized every word, the thirty inches by Godric Gryffindor that was all his autobiography and his life’s advice. (Or the English translation, anyway; she couldn’t read Latin yet.) Godric Gryffindor’s autobiography had been a lot more
compressed
than the books Hermione was used to reading, he used
one sentence
to say things that should’ve taken thirty inches just by themselves, and then there was
another
sentence after that…

But it was clear from what she’d read that, while Defying Authority wasn’t the
point
of being a hero, you couldn’t be a hero if you were too scared to do it. And Hermione Granger knew by now how others saw her, and she knew what other people thought she couldn’t do.

Hermione hefted her picket sign a little higher and concentrated on breathing slowly and rhythmically instead of hyperventilating until she fell over.

“
Really?
” said Miss Preece in a tone of undisguised fascination. “They couldn’t
vote?
”

“Indeed,” said Professor Sinistra. (The Astronomy Professor’s hair was still dark, and her dark face only slightly lined; Hermione
would
have guessed her age at around seventy, except -) “I quite remember my mother’s rejoicing when they announced the Qualification of Women Act, although she did not actually qualify.” (Which meant that Professor Sinistra had been around her Muggle family in 1918.) “And that wasn’t the worst of it. Why, just a few centuries earlier -”

Thirty seconds later all the non-Muggleborns, male and female both, were staring at Professor Sinistra with utterly shocked expressions. Hannah had dropped her sign.

“And
that
wasn’t the worst of it either, not by half,” finished Professor Sinistra. “But you see where this sort of thing could potentially lead.”

“Merlin preserve us,” said Penelope Clearwater in a strangled voice. “You mean
that’s
how men would treat us if we didn’t have wands to defend ourselves?”

“
Hey!
” said one of the boy prefects. ”
That’s
not -”

There was a short, sardonic laugh from the direction of Professor Quirrell. When Hermione turned her head to look she saw that the Defense Professor was still idly toying with the button, not bothering to glance up at the rest of them, as he said, “Such is human nature, Miss Clearwater. Rest assured that
you
would be no kinder, if witches had wands and men lacked them.”

“I hardly think so!” snapped Professor Sinistra.

A cold chuckle. “I suspect it happens more often than any dare suggest, in the proudest pureblood families. Some lonely witch spies a handsome Muggle; and thinks how very easy it would be, to slip the man a love potion, and by him be adored alone and utterly. And since she knows he can offer her no resistance, why, it is only natural for her to take from him whatever she pleases -”

“
Professor Quirrell!
” said Professor McGonagall sharply.

“I’m sorry,” Professor Quirrell said mildly, his eyes still looking down on the button in his hand, “are we all still pretending it doesn’t happen? My apologies, then.”

Professor Sinistra snapped, “And I suppose that wizards don’t -”

“There are
children
present, Professors!” Again Professor McGonagall.

“Some do,” Professor Quirrell said equably, as though discussing the weather. “Although personally, I don’t.”

There was a bit of silence, for a time. Hermione put up her sign again - it had slipped down to her shoulder while she was listening. She’d never thought of that, not even a little, and now she was trying
not
to think of it, and her stomach was feeling a bit queasy. She looked in Harry Potter’s direction, not quite knowing why she did; and she saw that Harry’s face was perfectly still. A chill ran down her spine before she looked away, not quite fast enough to miss the small nod that Harry gave her, as though they were agreeing on something.

“To be fair,” Professor Sinistra said after a while, “since I received my Hogwarts letter I can’t recall encountering any prejudice on account of being a woman, or colored. No, now it is all for being a Muggleborn. I believe Miss Granger said that it was
just
with heroes that she found a problem, so far?”

It took Hermione a moment to recognize that she’d been asked the question, and then she said “Yes,” in a tone that squeaked a little. This whole thing had blown up a bit larger than she’d imagined when she’d started it.

“What exactly did you check, Miss Granger?” said Professor Vector. She looked older than Professor Sinistra, her hair starting to gray a little; Hermione hadn’t ever come close to Professor Vector in person until the Arithmancy Professor had asked her for a button.

“Um,” Hermione said, her voice a little high, “I checked the history books and there’s been as many woman Ministers of Magic as men. Then I looked at Supreme Mugwumps and there were a few more wizards than witches but not many. But if you look at people like famous Dark Wizard hunters, or people who’ve stopped invasions of Dark creatures, or people who’ve overthrown Dark Lords -”

“And the Dark Wizards themselves, of course,” said Professor Quirrell.
Now
the Defense Professor had looked up. “You may add that to your list, Miss Granger. Among all the suspected Death Eaters we know of only two sorceresses, Bellatrix Black and Alecto Carrow. And I daresay that most wizards would be hard-pressed to name a single Dark Lady besides Baba Yaga.”

Hermione just stared at him.

He couldn’t
possibly
be -

“Professor Quirrell,” said Professor Vector, “what exactly are you implying?”

The Defense Professor raised the button so that the golden-lettered S.P.H.E.W. faced them, and said, “Heroes,” then turned the button to show its silver backside and said, “Dark Wizards. They are similar career paths followed by similar people, and one can hardly ask why young witches are turning away from one course without considering its reflection.”

“Oh,
now
I see!” said Tracey Davis, speaking up so suddenly that Hermione gave a small startle. “You’re joining our protest because you’re worried that not enough girls are becoming Dark Witches!” Then Tracey giggled, which Hermione couldn’t have managed at this point if you paid her a million pounds sterling.

There was a half-smile on Professor Quirrell’s face as he replied, “Not really, Miss Davis. In truth I do not care about that sort of thing in the slightest. But it is futile to count the witches among Ministers of Magic and other such ordinary folk leading ordinary existences, when Grindelwald and Dumbledore and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named were all men.” The Defense Professor’s fingers idly spun the button, turning it over and over. “Then again, only a very few folk ever do anything interesting with their lives. What does it matter to you if
they
are mostly witches or mostly wizards, so long as
you
are not among them? And I suspect you will not be among them, Miss Davis; for although you are ambitious, you have no ambition.”

“
That’s not true!
” said Tracey indignantly. “And what’s it mean?”

Professor Quirrell straightened from where he had been leaning against the wall. “You were Sorted into Slytherin, Miss Davis, and I expect that you will grasp at any opportunity for advancement which falls into your hands. But there is no great ambition that you are driven to accomplish, and you will not
make
your opportunities. At best you will grasp your way upward into Minister of Magic, or some other high position of unimportance, never breaking the bounds of your existence.”

Then Professor Quirrell’s gaze shifted away from Tracey, he was looking at
her,
the pale blue eyes staring at her with an awful intensity
-
“Tell me, Miss Granger. Do
you
have an ambition?”

“Professor -” squeaked the high stern voice of Professor Flitwick, and then her Head of House’s voice cut off, and from the side of her vision Hermione saw that Harry had laid his hand on Professor Flitwick’s shoulder and was shaking his head, face looking very adult.

Hermione felt like a deer caught in headlights.

“What drove you to break your bounds, Miss Granger?” said the Defense Professor, still gazing directly at her. “Why is getting good marks in class no longer enough? Is it true greatness that you seek? Does some aspect of the world dissatisfy you, that you must remake according to your will? Or is this all merely a child’s game to you? I will be quite disappointed if this is only about rivaling Harry Potter.”

“I -” said Hermione, her voice so high-pitched it made a sort of peeping sound, but then she couldn’t think of what else to say.