Harry Potter and the Way of Reason

The Headmaster revived Fred Weasley with a simple quick resuscitation, followed by a minor healing spell on the broken arm and ribs.Harry's voice was vaguely telling the Headmaster that the troll had deformed acid in its head (Dumbledore looked down at the edge of the roof and gestured before returning), and that the memory of the Weasley twins had been Tampered, his mouth went on alone, the brain only providing memories but not processing them.

Harry was still standing next to Hermione's body, motionless, thinking as fast as he could, experiencing dissociation and fragmented time.Is there anything he should be doing now, any chance of irreversibility passing?Something that can reduce the difficulty of magic that will be needed in the future.Mark this moment with a time beacon for future time travel, should he one day discover a way to travel back more than 6 hours.There are some theories of time travel under general relativity (which didn't seem very feasible until Harry used the time-turner to travel), those theories that it is impossible to go back in time before the invention of the time machine - the time machine of relativity is in space-time Maintaining a continuous path, it cannot teleport anything.But Harry didn't feel that the spells he had mastered were going to be of any help, Dumbledore wasn't particularly cooperative, and in any case, a few minutes had passed since the crucial point in the timeline.

"Harry," whispered Dumbledore, putting his hand on Harry's shoulder.He disappeared from where he was standing next to the Weasley twins to appear next to Harry; George Weasley suddenly appeared from where he was sitting next to his brother, kneeling down, and Fred lay stretched out, wide open. Focusing, panting in pain. "Harry, you have to get out of here."

"Wait a minute," said Harry, "I'm trying to think if there's anything I can do."

The old wizard's voice sounded helpless. "Harry - I know you don't believe in souls - but whether or not Hermione is looking at you right now, I don't think she would want you like this."

... No, that's obvious.Harry raised his wand at Hermione's corpse—

"Harry! You're—"

—and he poured everything from his arms into his hands—

"Cold frost!"

"--do what?"

"Low temperature," said Harry coldly, staggering.It was one of the spells he and Hermione had experimented with, like a lifetime ago, so he was able to control it with precision, even though it took a lot of power to act on such a large substance.Hermione's body should be almost exactly 5 degrees Celsius by now. "People who have been in cold water for more than 30 minutes without breathing can still be resuscitated. The cold prevents your brain from being damaged and, you see, it slows everything down. There is a saying among Muggle doctors that unless your body warms to death, you are still alive." Didn't die [1] - I think in some surgeries, if they're going to stop the patient's heart for a while, they even cool the patient down."

Fred and George began to sob.

Dumbledore's face was covered with tears. "I'm sorry," he whispered, "Harry, I'm really sorry, but you need to stop." The Headmaster twisted Harry's shoulders and pulled him away.

Harry allowed himself to be turned away from Hermione's body, walking forward as the Headmaster pushed him away from the blood.Freezing spells would buy him time.At least for a few hours, maybe days, if he could keep casting spells on Hermione, or if they kept her dead body somewhere cold.

Now is the time to think.

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Minerva knew something was wrong as soon as she saw Albus's face; she wondered for a moment what happened, or even who died; flashes of Alastor, Augusta, Arthur And Molly, all of Voldemort's most likely targets at the start of his second rise.She thought she had become strong, she thought she was ready for the worst.

Then Albus spoke, and all the strength left her.

Not Hermione - no -

Albus gave her a little space to cry, and then told her that Harry Potter had watched Miss Granger die, that he sat outside the storeroom where Miss Granger's body was kept, refused to leave, and told everyone The person he was talking to walked away so he could think.

The only thing that got the boy to react was Fawkes trying to sing to him; Harry Potter screaming at Phoenix not to do that, his feelings were real and he didn't want magic to heal it like it was a disease of.Fox refused to sing again after that.

Albus thought that now she was most likely to be close to Harry Potter.

So she had to keep her emotions in check and her grooming; there would be time for personal grief later, when her surviving children no longer needed her.

Minerva McGonagall put together her fragmented self, wiped her eyes for the last time, and put her hand on the doorknob of the infirmary. This was the second time in this century, and the fifth since Hogwarts Castle was established On one occasion, the storage room behind the medical room was used as the resting place of a promising young student.

She opened the door.

Harry Potter stared at her.The boy was sitting on the floor in front of the back storage room door, his wand in his lap.Even if those eyes had been sad, empty, even hopeless, the boy's face couldn't tell.There were no dry tears on those cheeks.

"Why are you here, Professor McGonagall?" asked Harry Potter. "I told the Headmaster I wanted to be alone for a while."

She couldn't think of what to say.to help you - you're not well - but she doesn't know what to say, she can't think of anything to say that would make things better.She hadn't planned ahead and wasn't at her best when she entered the room.

"What are you thinking?" Minerva asked.It was the only sentence that came to her mind.Albus told him that Harry Potter had been talking, over and over, and he was thinking; she had to get Harry to talk anyway.

Harry looked at her with wandering eyes, his face tightened, and she held her breath.

It was a while before Harry spoke.

"I'm trying to think about what I can do now," said Harry Potter, "although, it's hard. My brain keeps imagining that if I had thought faster then, I could have made a difference in the past." approach, and I cannot rule out the possibility that there is a key insight in it."

"Mr Potter—" she said tremblingly, "Harry, I don't think it's healthy for you to think that."

"I don't agree. It's not thinking that kills people." The tone was monotonous, like reciting sentences from a book.

"Harry," she said, barely even thinking as she spoke, "there was nothing you could have done—"

Harry's face changed, and his eyes fixed on her, as if seeing her for the first time.

"Is there anything I can do?" Harry's voice rose on the last word, "Is there nothing I can do? I can't remember how many different ways I could have saved her! If I asked that we all have comm mirrors .If I insisted that Hermione be taken out of Hogwarts and go to a school where she wasn't crazy! If I set off immediately instead of trying to argue with those common people! If only I could remember the Patronus Charm sooner! If I wanted Train myself to think of the Patronus Charm early in case of an emergency! Even in the last few minutes, it might not be too late! I killed the troll and came back to her, she was alive, and I knelt Be there for her and listen to her last words like a fool instead of casting the Patronus Charm again and have Dumbledore send Fawkes over! Or if I just look at things differently - if I go to have a time-turner students, send the news back in time before I found out what happened to her, instead of ending with an unchangeable result-I asked the headmaster to go back in time to save Hermione and then fake everything, fake corpses, and modify everyone's memories, but Dumbledore Lido said he tried something like that once and it didn't work out, and he lost another friend. Or if—if I followed—if, that night—"

Harry put his hands to his face, and when he removed his hands again, his face was calm and collected again.

"Anyway," said Harry, again monotonously, "I don't want to repeat the mistake, so I'm going to keep thinking about it until dinnertime, wondering if there's anything I should be doing. If I haven't thought about it by then Come out, I'll go to dinner. Now please leave."

She realized the tears were streaming down her cheeks again. "Harry—Harry, you have to believe it wasn't your fault!"

"Of course it was my mistake. No one else here can take responsibility for anything."

"No! You-Know-Who killed Hermione!" She barely realized what she was saying, so much so that she didn't check the room for who might be listening. "Not you! Whatever else you should have done, you didn't kill her, it was Voldemort! If you can't believe that, you're going crazy, Harry!"

"That's not how responsibility works, Professor." Harry's voice was patient, as if he was explaining to a child who certainly didn't understand.He stopped looking at her, just staring at the wall to her right. "When you're doing error analysis, it's pointless to attribute the error to a part of the system that you can't change after the fact. It's like falling off a cliff and blaming gravity, which won't change next time. Trying to put blame on not intending to change behavior People are pointless. When you look at things from that angle, you realize that holding people accountable will never work except to blame yourself, because you are the only one who will change behavior because of blame. That's why Dumbledore has a room full of broken wands. At least, he understands that part."

Some part of her deep brain made a mark that, much later, she would sternly talk to the principal about what he was showing impressionable young children.She might even scream at him this time.She was about to scream at him anyway, because Miss Granger—

"You're not responsible," she said, though her voice trembled. "It's the professors—we are responsible for the safety of our students, not you."

Harry turned his gaze back to her, "Are you responsible?" There was a strain in his voice, "You want me to hold you accountable, Professor McGonagall?"

She raised her chin and nodded.That, at least, was better than Harry blaming himself.

The boy got up from the floor and took a step forward. "Well then," said Harry monotonously, "when I found out Hermione was missing and no professor knew about it, I tried to do the sensible thing. I let a seventh year ride with me on a broom, Protect me while we're looking for Hermione. I beg for help. I beg for help. No one helps me. Because you gave them absolute orders: stay in one place or they'll be fired, no excuses. Whatever Dumbledore What else is Lido wrong, he at least sees students as human beings and not as animals that have to be kept in cages to keep them from getting out. You know you're not good at military thinking, your initial idea was to let us walk through the halls, you know some Students are better at strategy and tactics than you are, but you still locked us in a room without any discretion. So when something happens that you didn't foresee, there's good reason for a [-]th grader to go out on a speedy broom in search of Hermione students know you won't understand or forgive. They're not afraid of trolls, they're afraid of you. The discipline, obedience, and cowardice you've instilled in them just delayed me from trying to save Hermione. Of course, I shouldn't be telling ordinary people Ask for help and I'll fix it and be less stupid next time. But if I'm stupid enough to place the blame on someone else instead of myself, that's what I'm going to say."

Tears streamed down her cheeks.

"That's what I'd tell you if I thought you could be held accountable for anything. But normal people don't make choices based on outcomes, they just play their part. You have a picture in your brain of a stern discipliner." image, and you'll do whatever that image would do, reasonable or not. A Stern Disciplinary will ask students to go back to their rooms, even if there's a troll wandering in the hallway. A Stern Disciplinary Will ask students not to leave the hall or expel them. And the little image of Professor McGonagall in your brain can't learn from experience or change itself, so this conversation is meaningless. People like you are not responsible for anything, people like me Responsible, when we fail, there is no one else to blame."

The boy stepped forward and stood straight in front of her.His hand suddenly took out a golden sphere from under the robe, which was the time-turner protective shell issued to him by the Ministry of Magic.His voice was lifeless and even, without any ups and downs. "This would have saved Hermione, if I could have used it. But you think it's your duty to control me, to interfere with me. No one has died in Hogwarts for 50 years, that's what you said when you locked it, Do you remember? I should have asked again when Bellatrix Black escaped from Azkaban, or when Hermione was framed for attempted murder. But I forgot, because of my stupidity. Please open it now, before any of my friends die."

Speechless, she took out her wand and did as she did, breaking the time-limiting spell previously bound to the casing.

Harry Potter turned away the golden casing, looked at the small glass hourglass inside, nodded, and snapped the casing shut again. "Thank you. Now go away," the boy's voice repeated Hoarse, "I have to think about it."

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She closed the door behind her with a terrible, still suppressed sound in her throat—

Albus flashed beside her.When the illusion spell disappeared, a cloud of bright colors appeared.

She wasn't surprised. "I told you, don't do that," Minerva said.Her voice sounded very wooden to her. "That was a private conversation."

Albus pointed to the door behind her. "I'm afraid Mr. Potter might hurt you," the Headmaster paused, then said quietly, "I'm surprised you just stood there and accepted it."

"I just say 'Mr Potter' and he stops," she said in a whisper, "just that, and he stops. And then no one can make him say those horrible things , not a single person."

"I think Mr Potter's comments are completely unfair and inappropriate," Albus said.

"If it were you, Albus, you wouldn't threaten to fire anyone who left the room. Can you tell me the truth that you wouldn't do that?"

Albus raised his eyebrows, "Your role in this disaster was very small, and your decision was wise at the time, it's just Harry Potter's perfect hindsight that made him have a different opinion." assumption. You are certainly wise enough not to blame yourself for it, Minerva."

Of course she knew that Albus would have Hermione's portrait occupying a prominent place in his dreadful room.She was sure that, even though Albus wasn't even at Hogwarts at the time, he would have held him responsible, not her.

So you don't think it's worth holding me accountable...

She slid down against the nearest wall, trying to hold back the tears; she had only seen Albus cry three times. "You always trust your students, and I never did. They don't fear you. They know you understand."

"Minerva—"

"I am not fit to succeed you as Headmaster. We all know that."

"You're wrong," said Albus quietly. "When the time comes, you'll be the forty-fifth Headmaster of Hogwarts, and you'll do a great job."

She shook her head. "What now, Albus? If he won't listen to me, who else will he listen to?"

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About half an hour later.The boy was still guarding the door leading to where his best friend's body lay.He stared down at the wand in his hand.Sometimes his face is pensive and puckered, other times it's relaxed.

Although the door was closed and silent, the boy looked up.His countenance fell silent.His voice was muffled when he spoke, "I don't want company."

The door opened.

The Hogwarts Defense Professor entered the room, closed the door behind him, and carefully selected a corner between two walls, as far away from the boy as the room would allow.There was a strong sense of catastrophe in the air between the two of them that couldn't go away.

"Why are you here?" said the boy.

The man turned his head slightly.Pale eyes scrutinized the boy as if he were a specimen of life from a distant planet, and rather dangerous.

"I'm here to apologize, Mr. Potter," the man said quietly.

"Apologize for what?" said the boy. "Why, what can you do to prevent Hermione's death?"

"I should have thought of checking to see if you, Mr. Longbottom, and Miss Granger were there. You are obviously the next target," said the defense professor without hesitation. "Mr. Hagrid is not intelligent enough to order students accordingly." ...I should have ignored the Vice-Chancellor's pleas to shut me up and told her to keep Professor Flitwick. He is better at protecting students from threats and keeps in touch through a Patronus."

"Correct," the boy's voice was very sharp, "I forgot that there are people in Hogwarts who are responsible for things. So, why didn't you think of it, Professor? Because I don't believe you would be stupid."

There was a pause, and the boy's fingers turning white as he held the wand.

"You didn't expect, Mr. Potter, at that time." The defense professor's voice was tinged with fatigue, "I am smarter than you, I am faster than you, and I am more experienced than you. But the distance between you and me The distance between us and them is different. If you missed something, I might have missed it," the man curled his lips. "Look, I immediately deduced that the troll was just a cover-up, not itself Too important. So as long as no one sends students wandering aimlessly through corridors, or carelessly sends young Slytherins back to the dungeon where they happened to witness the troll, it doesn't matter."

The boy didn't seem to relax. "I guess that makes sense."

"Anyway," said the man, "if anyone can be said to be responsible for Miss Granger's death, it's me, not you. It's me, not you, who should—"

"I get the feeling you talked to Professor McGonagall and she gave you a script," the boy didn't bother to suppress the sarcasm in his voice, "if you're going to say something to me, Professor, don't wear a mask."

a pause.

"As you wish," said the Defense Professor unemotionally.Pale eyes still sharp and sharp, "I do feel sorry for that girl's death. She was a good student in my defense class and could have been your ally in the future. I hope I can comfort you for your loss, But I can't figure out how to do it. Needless to say, if I find out who's responsible, I'll kill them. You're welcome to join if conditions allow."

"It's touching," the boy's voice was cold. "So, you're not claiming to have liked Hermione?"

"Her charm doesn't work for me, I doubt. I don't get attached so easily anymore."

The boy nodded. "Thank you for your honesty. That's all, Professor?"

a pause.

"The castle is scarred now," said the man standing in the corner.

"what?"

"When a particular ancient instrument in my possession notified me of Miss Granger's impending death, I unleashed the cursed fire I had mentioned. I burned through some walls and floors, and gave my broom a more immediate path." The man still said without a tone, "However, Hogwarts Castle is not so easy to repair this kind of damage, and it may not be able to recover at all. I guess I have to use some low-level spells to repair the loopholes. Now I I'm sorry, but I was too late anyway."

"Ah," said the boy, closing his eyes for a moment, "you wanted to save her. You wanted to save her so badly that it took some real effort. I think your brain, not theirs, is able to do that.”

The man laughed dryly.

"Thank you, Professor. But now I want to be alone until supper time. Of all people, you should understand. Anything else?"

"Not really," the man said.There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice, "You know, based on recent experience, I'm worried that you may want to do something extremely stupid now."

"Like what?" the boy said.

"I'm not sure. Maybe you think a world without Miss Granger is worthless and should be destroyed for the insult it has done to you."

The boy laughed humorlessly. "Your own problems are exposed, Professor. I'm really not interested in that kind of thing. Did it ever occur to you, at some point?"

"No, I don't have a great affection for this universe, but I live here."

a pause.

"What are your plans, Mr. Potter?" said the man from the corner. "You've made some serious resolution, though you're trying to hide it from me. What are you going to do now?"

The boy shook his head, "I'm still thinking, and I prefer to think alone."

"I remembered a proposal you made to me, a few months ago," said the Defense Professor, "do you want to talk to a smart person? I can understand if you don't want to have someone around."

The boy shook his head again, "No, thank you."

"Well then," the defense professor counted, "what about someone who is strong and not too bound by childish moral scruples?"

After a moment of hesitation, the boy shook his head again.

"A man who knows many secret legends, and magic that some people think is extraordinary?"

The boy narrowed his eyes slightly, so unobtrusively that others might not—

"I see," said the Defense Professor, "then just ask me, and I promise I will never repeat your words to anyone else."

It took the boy a moment to open his mouth, and when he did, his voice was hoarse.

"I'm going to bring Hermione back. Since there's no afterlife, and I'm not going to let her—don't just—"

The boy put his hand to his face, and when he removed it, he was once again as calm as the man standing in the corner.

The defense professor's eyes were indifferent, vaguely confused.

"How?" the man finally asked.

"anyway."

Another pause.

"No matter how many risks," said the man in the corner, "no matter how dangerous magic it takes to make it happen."

"Yes."

The defense professor's eyes were full of thought. "But do you have a general idea? I want to turn her body into an Inferi[2], it's not that you want to—"

"Can she think?" said the boy. "Will her body still rot?"

"Can't think, will rot."

"Then, no."

"Where's Cadmus Peverell's resurrection stone, if I can get it for you?"

The boy shook his head, "I don't want the vision of Hermione extracted from my memory. I think she can live her own life—" The boy's voice was hoarse, "I haven't decided which specific angle to start with. If I have to pass Gain enough power and knowledge to solve the problem violently, I will."

Another pause.

"To achieve that," said the man in the corner, "you'll use your favorite tool, science."

"of course."

The defense professor exhaled, almost sighing. "I think that makes sense."

"Are you willing to help?" said the boy.

"What kind of help are you looking for?"

"Magic. Where does it come from?"

"I don't know," the man said.

"No one else knows?"

"Oh, the situation is much worse than that, Mr. Potter. There are almost no arcane scholars who have not unlocked the essence of magic, and everyone believes in different theories."

"Where do new spells come from? I keep reading that someone invents a spell to do this or that, but doesn't mention how."

The robed shoulders shrugged. "Where do new books come from, Mr. Potter? Those who have read a lot can sometimes write themselves. How? No one knows."

"There are books that teach how to write—"

"Reading these books won't make you a famous playwright. Even taking all of these suggestions into account, it's still a mystery. Inventing new spells is a similar mystery, only in a purer form." The man tilted his head. , "That kind of effort is dangerous. In layman's terms, either don't have children, if you do, make sure you live until they grow up. So many inventors seem to be from Gryffindor, not the expected Lavin Crowe, there's a reason for that."

"What about the more powerful kind of magic?" the boy asked.

"A legendary wizard may invent one sacrificial ritual in his lifetime, and then pass the knowledge on to his descendants. Trying to invent five such rituals is suicide. That's why wizards with real power draw their power from ancient legends. "

The boy nodded slightly, "So, there is no direct solution. It would be nice to invent a 'resurrection of the dead', 'transformation of God' or 'summoning console'. You know about Atlantis ?"

"Only as much as all scholars know," said the man dryly. "If you want to hear the first eighteen general theories—don't stare at me, Mr. Potter. If it was that simple, I myself would have finished."

"I understand. Sorry."

There was a moment of silence.The Defense professor stared at the boy, who seemed to be staring into nothingness.

"Some spells I'm going to learn. Spells I could have used earlier today if I had thought about learning them ahead of time." The boy's voice was cold. "Spells I would have used if this sort of thing kept happening. Most I think I can find, some I think I can't."

The defense professor nodded. "I will teach you most of the magic you want to know, Mr. Potter. I have some limitations, but you can ask questions at any time. But what are you looking for? Using the Death Curse, your magic power is not enough, and other Most spells are forbidden—”

"The spell that curses the fire. Is it a ritual that even a child could use, if he dared?"

The corner of the defense professor's mouth twisted, "It requires a permanent sacrifice of a drop of blood; your body, from that day on, will be lighter because of the lack of that drop of blood. Not the kind of thing people want to do often, Bo Mr. Te. Cursing the flame requires strength of will, or it will betray you and consume you; the usual method is to test one's will first in a weaker ritual. Although magic is not the main factor in the ritual, I am afraid that the magic required Still more than you've mastered in a few years."

"What a pity," said the boy, "it will be nice to see the look on the faces of the enemies the next time they try to use the troll."

The defense professor nodded, and the corners of his mouth twisted again.

"What about memory spells? The Weasley twins are acting erratically, and the Headmaster says he thinks they've been forgotten. Looks like one of the enemy's favorite tricks."

"Rule Eight," said the Defense Professor, "any tool strong enough to defeat me once is worth learning."

The boy laughed without a sense of humor, "And I've heard of an adult once casting Oblivion when her magic power was almost completely depleted, so it shouldn't use much magic power. It's not even considered impossible Forgive me, though I can't imagine why. If I could have gotten Mr. Hagrid to remember a different set of orders—"

"It's not that straightforward," said the Defense Professor, "you don't have the strength to use a memory-altering spell, and even a simple oblivion would wear out your present self. It's a dangerous art, It is illegal to use without Ministry of Magic authorization, and I will warn you not to use it in some cases, such as accidentally removing 10 years of a person's life by accident will inconvenience you. I wish I could be right You said I would infiltrate the Department of Mysteries, steal a heavily guarded tome, and deliver it to you with a disguised cover. But what I must tell you is that you will be in the main book at Hogwarts. I found a standard introductory book in a stack of books in the north-northwest corner of the library, filed under the letter M."

"Are you serious?" the boy said dryly.

"It's true."

"Thank you for your guidance, Professor."

"Your creativity has become more and more practical, Mr. Potter, since I have known you."

"Thank you for the compliment." The boy looked down at the wand in his hand again without looking up. "Now I want to go back and think. Please explain to them what will happen if I am disturbed."

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The storage room door clicked open, and Professor Quirrell came out.His face was lifeless and expressionless; she would say it reminded her of Severus, even though Severus never looked the same.

Even though the door clicked shut again, Minerva silently threw a silence barrier.She asked impatiently, "How - you've been there for a while - is Harry talking now?"

Professor Quirrell walked quickly across the room, to the farthest wall near the entrance, and looked back at her.There was a look on his face, as if the mask had been taken off, revealing the very serious man underneath, "I said what Mr. Porter expected me to say, and I avoided words that would annoy him. I don't think it will Comfort him. I don't think I'm capable of that."

"Thank you—it's great that he finally spoke—" she hesitated. "What did Mr. Potter say?"

"I'm afraid I promised him I wouldn't tell. And now... I think I'll have to go to the Hogwarts library."

"Library?" "Yes," said Professor Quirrell, with unusual tension in his voice, "I intend to increase the security of the Restricted Section with certain precautions I have devised. The present defense is a joke. Nothing must be spared." The price was to prevent Mr Porter from entering the Restricted Section."

She stared at the defense professor, her heart suddenly jumped into her throat.

Professor Quirrell continued, "You can't tell the boy I told you this. You need to confirm with Flitwick and Victor that if the boy asks about inventing spells, use the usual excuses to change the subject. Although This is not my own area of ​​expertise, Vice-Chancellor, and if you can think of any way of dissuading that boy from wallowing in his grief and madness—any way of breaking his resolve—then I advise you to act at once."

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[1] Clinical death en.wikipedia/wiki/Clinical_death

[2] Inferius harrypotter.wikia/wiki/Inferius