Harry Potter and the Way of Reason

There was a tiny silver glint in the moonlight, thinner than a hair...

(figure in black robe, falls)

...Blood poured out in large quantities, and someone screamed a word.

------------------------------------------------

Every inch of space on the wall is covered by bookshelves.Each bookshelf has six levels, almost reaching the ceiling.Some shelves were brimming with hardcover volumes: science, math, history, whatever.Other shelves hold two tiers of paperback science fiction, with the back tiers padded with old tissue boxes or wooden blocks so that titles in the back row can be seen over the books in the front row.But still can't let go.Books overflowed the shelves, spilled over the tables and sofas, and piled up in small piles under the windows.

Here is the venerable Professor Mike Verras-Evans, his wife Penny Evans-Verres, and their adopted son Harry James Potter-Evans-Verres living room.

On the living room table lay a letter, and an unstamped yellow parchment envelope, written in emerald green ink: Attn: Mr. H. Porter.

The professor and his wife were having a confrontational conversation, but neither of them raised their voices.The professor thinks yelling is a sign of bad manners.

"You're kidding," Mike said to Penny.His tone showed that he was very worried that she was not joking.

"My sister is a witch," Petunia repeated.She looked terrified, but held her ground. "Her husband is a wizard."

"Ridiculous!" Mike pointed out sharply. "They came to our wedding—and Christmas—"

"I told them not to tell you," Petunia whispered, "but it's true. I've seen—"

The professor rolled his eyes. "My dear, I understand that you are new to the literature of skepticism. I'm afraid you don't know that a professional magician can easily do the seemingly impossible. Do you remember how I taught Harry to do Spoon-bending? If they seem to be able to read your mind, there's a name for that technique, cold analysis—"

"It's not about bending a spoon—"

"what is that?"

Petunia bit her lip. "I can't tell you that. You'd think I—" She swallowed, "Listen to me, Mike. I'm not—always—" She pointed to herself, as if pointing out her beauty. because I begged her. I begged her for many years. Lily has always been prettier than me, and I... I have always been cruel to her because of this. And then she can do magic, Can you imagine how I felt? I begged her to use her magic to make me beautiful too, if I can't have magic, at least make me beautiful."

Petunia's eyes filled with tears.

"Lily disagreed all the time. She made up a lot of ridiculous reasons. Being nice to her sister would cause the end of the world. A centaur warned her not to do it—the most ridiculous reason. I hated her to death. Later I Finished college and started dating a guy named Vernon Dursley, he was fat, but he was the only guy who would talk to me. Then he said he wanted kids, his older son's The name was to be Dudley. I thought, what kind of parent would name their child Dudley Dursley? I saw my future so clearly at that moment and I couldn't take it anymore. I wrote to my sister and told her that if she wouldn't help me, I'd go—"

Penny stopped.

"All in all," whispered Petunia, "she gave in. She told me it was dangerous, and I said I didn't care. I drank her magic potion and was sick for weeks, and when I got better, my acne No more, my figure has improved, and... I have become a beautiful woman, and everyone started to treat me very well." Her voice choked up, "Since then, I can't hate my sister anymore, let alone seeing her later. What her magic brought her to-"

"Honey," Mike said softly, "you got sick and plumped up a little from being in bed, and then your skin got better on its own. Or maybe you changed your diet while you were sick—"

"She's a witch," repeated Petunia, "I've seen it with my own eyes."

"Petunia," Mike said, his voice growing impatient, "you know that's impossible. Must I explain why?"

Petunia wrung her hands and looked like she was about to cry. "Honey, I know I can't tell you anything, but you must believe me about this—"

"Dad! Mom!"

They both stopped and looked at Harry as if they had just remembered that there was a third person in the room.

Harry took a deep breath. "Mom, your parents don't know magic either, do they?"

"No," said Penny, looking a little bewildered.

"Then when Lily got her letter, no one in your family knew about the existence of magic. How did they believe it?"

"Ah..." Petunia said, "They didn't just deliver a letter. There was a Hogwarts professor. He—" Petunia glanced at Mike, "he performed some magic tricks for us."

"Then you don't have to argue," Harry said firmly, secretly hoping that this time, just once, they'd get his opinion by chance. "If it's true, we can also invite a professor from Hogwarts to come and witness the existence of magic, and Dad will admit it's true. If not, Mom will admit it's fake. This is the usefulness of the experimental method, so that we can solve problems without arguing."

The professor turned and looked down at him, dismissive as usual. "Come on, Harry. Magic? I expected you wouldn't take it seriously, son, even if you're only ten years old. Magic is the most anti-scientific thing in the world! "

A wry smile flitted across Harry's lips.Dad was good to him, probably better than most biological fathers to their children.Harry was sent to the best primary school - and when he failed, he hired someone from among the cash-strapped college students to be his private tutor.Harry can study any subject that interests him, buy all the books he wants to read, and participate in any math or science competition that interests him.As long as it is a reasonable request, it will be satisfied, except for one thing, maybe, a little respect.A dignified Oxford professor of biochemistry would not deign to listen to a young boy.Of course, you still have to listen and show interest; that's what good parents do, so if you think you're one, you have to.But seriously consider the opinion of a ten-year-old boy?No wonder.

There were times when Harry felt like screaming at Dad.

"Mum," said Harry, "if you want to beat Dad, read the first chapter of the Feynman Lectures on Physics."

Chapter 2. [1] It said that many philosophers once thought that science should do this and that, but in fact they were all wrong, because science has only one rule, that is, the result of observation is the final arbiter-you just need to observe this The world, just tell what you see.Hmm... I can't remember where I saw it, but the idea of ​​science is to solve problems with experiments rather than arguments—"

His mother looked down at him and smiled. "Thank you, Harry. But—" She raised her head again and stared at her husband, "I don't want to win your father. I just want my husband to be able to listen to his wife who loves him by chance and believe her once--"

Harry closed his eyes.hopeless.Both his parents were hopeless.

Now his parents are back in that bickering mode, Mom trying to make Dad feel guilty and Dad trying to make Mom feel stupid.

"I'm going back to my room," Harry announced, his voice shaking a little. "Dad, Mum, please stop arguing. We'll find out soon anyway, won't we?"

"It's all right, Harry," Dad said, and Mom gave him a reassuring kiss.But while Harry was still upstairs, they fought again.

He closed the door behind him and began to think.

Oddly enough, he should have been on Dad's side.No one had ever seen evidence of magic, but according to Mama, there was a whole world of magic.But how could such a thing be kept secret?By magic?This excuse is too suspicious.

It should be obvious that Mom is either joking, lying, or just crazy, in ascending order of worst.If that letter was from Mom herself, that would explain why this unstamped letter ended up in their mailbox.A little insanity is far more likely than the universe is actually working that way.

The problem was, a part of Harry was absolutely convinced that magic was real.Ever since he'd seen the letter purporting to be from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he'd been sure of the whole thing.

Harry rubbed his forehead and grimaced.Don't believe all your own thoughts, he said in a book he read.

But this strange certainty... Harry found himself really thinking that a Hogwarts professor would come to the house, wave his wand, and the magic would happen.This odd idea doesn't allow for falsification at all—for example, it doesn't even try to make excuses that maybe the professor won't come for some reason, or that the professor who does come might just bend spoons.

Where do you come from, strange premonition?Harry asked his brain.Why do I believe what I believe?

Normally Harry was good at answering this question, but this time, he had no idea what was going on in his head.

He shrugged mentally.If there is a metal plate on a door, it is for pushing, and if it is a handle, it is for pulling.For a testable conjecture, all you can do is test it.

He took a sheet of ruled paper from the table and began to write a letter.

dear vice principal

Harry paused and considered for a moment; then replaced the paper with a fresh one, and pushed the lead of the mechanical pencil out another millimeter.He decided to write neatly.

Dear Deputy Principal Minerva McGonagall,

or relevant persons:

I recently received your acceptance letter to Hogwarts, addressed to Mr. H. Potter.In case you didn't know, my biological parents, James Potter and Lily Potter (Lily Evans before marriage) have passed away.I was adopted by Lily's sister, Penny Evans-Veres, and her husband, Mike Verres-Evans.

I'm very interested in going to Hogwarts, if the place actually exists.My mom, Petunia, said she'd seen magic, but she couldn't use it herself.My dad was very skeptical.I'm not sure myself.And I don't know where to buy the books and supplies listed on your acceptance letter.

Mom mentions that you sent a representative of Hogwarts to Lily Potter's (Lily Evans then) house to prove to her family that magic really does exist, and, I presume, you bought her To school supplies.We would really appreciate it if you could do the same for my family.

Sincerely,

Harry James Potter-Evans-Verys

Harry wrote their current address, folded the letter and put it in an envelope, writing Hogwarts in the addressee section.He thought about it, brought another candle, dripped a drop of wax oil on the seal of the envelope, and carved his initials on it with the tip of a pencil knife. HJPEV is crazy anyway, and he decided to go crazy in his own style .

Then he opened the door and went back downstairs.Dad is sitting in the living room reading an advanced math book, trying to show how smart he is; Mom is preparing Dad's favorite dinner in the kitchen, trying to prove how much she loves him.It looks like they've stopped talking to each other.Fighting is terrible, but not fighting seems much worse.

"Mum," said Harry into the eerie silence, "I want to test your hypothesis. How would I send an owl to Hogwarts, according to your theory?"

His mother turned from the kitchen counter to stare at him, transfixed. "I—I don't know, I think you have a magic owl."

This sounds very suspicious at first, oh, so your theory can't be verified, but the belief in Harry's heart seems to be willing to continue sticking out his head.

"Well, now that the acceptance letter can get to us," said Harry, "I decided to go outside and wave my reply letter, yell 'Letter to Hogwarts!' and see if an owl would come Take it. Daddy, would you like to come and see?"

Dad shook his head slightly and continued to read.Of course, Harry thought.Magic is a shameful thing, only a fool would believe it; if Dad actually tried to verify this hypothesis, or witnessed the process of verification, it would feel like he was stained with this kind of thing...

It didn't occur to Harry until he walked out the back door into the garden that if an owl did come and take the letter away, it would be hard for him to explain it to his father.

But - that's not going to happen anyway, right?No matter what my brain believes.If an owl did come and take the letter away, it would be a lot more serious than Papa would have thought.

Harry took a deep breath and held the letter up in the air.

He swallowed.

It suddenly occurred to him that holding a letter in his back garden and shouting "Letter to Hogwarts!" to the sky felt really awkward.

No.I am better than dad.Even if following the scientific method makes people feel stupid, I can't back down.

"Here—" said Harry, but his voice was barely audible.

Harry made up his mind and called out to the empty sky, "Letter to Hogwarts! An owl, please?"

"Harry?" asked a confused female voice, one of his neighbors.

Harry withdrew his hand like it was on fire, and tucked the letter behind his back like it was dirty drug money.His whole face was burning with shame.

The face of an old lady poked out over a neighbor's fence, her gray hair shaggy through a hairnet.It was Mrs. Figg, who occasionally acted as his sitter. "What are you doing, Harry?"

"Nothing," Harry replied in a choked voice. "Just—testing a ridiculous theory—"

"Have you received your acceptance letter from Hogwarts?"

Harry froze.

"Yes," answered Harry's lips after a moment's silence, "I have a letter from Hogwarts. They say my owl has until July 31st to deliver it, but— —”

"But you don't have an owl. Unlucky boy! I don't know what those people are thinking, just sending you ordinary letters."

A wrinkled arm stretched out from behind the fence, open.Without thinking, Harry handed his envelope over.

"Leave it on me, dear," said Ms. Figg. "I'll call someone to get it in a moment."

Her face disappeared on the other side of the fence.

There was a long silence in the garden.

Then a boy whispered in a calm voice, "What?

..........................................