Harry Potter and the Way of Reason

Nothing to do.

Nothing to plan.

Nothing to think about.

A new worst memory emerges in a void—

The Boy Who Lived - unlike his best friend - walked down the long, echoing corridor to the Great Hall.All his thinking energy was drained, and his mind began to throw thoughts, like Hermione walking side by side with him, and wordless concepts like "this sight will never happen again", until his The other part yelled, no, shut up the previous part and was determined to bring her back, but that part's voice was getting tired, and the other part seemed tireless.A part of his mind kept going back to what he had said to Professor McGonagall and Mom and Dad, even though he was just trying to get them out of there as quickly as possible and had limited mental strength.As if his wounded will could do better if he just put in the effort.What was left of his relationship with his parents now, Harry couldn't guess.

He eventually came to a junction where an older boy in a black robe trimmed with green was quietly reading his textbook, the only way anyone who wanted to intercept anyone going from the infirmary to the hall.

Harry wore the Invisibility Cloak, of course, when he left the office, to make himself immune to almost all forms of magical detection.No reason for anyone to find and kill him so easily.Harry was about to set off and move on, too lazy to figure out what was going on, until he recognized the Slytherin boy's face.

Suddenly Harry realized.Of course, among the students staying at school for Easter there would be—

"You were waiting for me," said Harry loudly, without taking off the cloak.

The Slytherin boy jerked back two steps, hit his head against the wall, dropped his fifth year spell book from his hand, and looked up with wide eyes.

"You are--"

"Invisible. Yes. Say what you want."

Lysas Strange got up, stood at attention, and blurted out, "My lord, have I done the right thing?—I don't think you would wish to stand before those who might suspect Our relationship—I thought that if you wanted me to help you, of course you would call me—'.

It's amazing how many ways stupidity can kill your best friend.

"I—" Lysas hesitated, then whispered, "I was wrong, wasn't I?".

"In that case, you did what you were supposed to do. I was the fool."

"I'm sorry, my lord," Lysas whispered.

"If you had come with me, would you have been able to kill the troll?" That's not even the right question, the right question is if Harry himself had considered using the Lysas and flying out 60 seconds earlier, but still ...

"I... I'm not sure, my lord... I'm not very popular in Slytherin dueling practice, and I haven't learned the Death Curse gesture - I should learn these spells to serve you better oh, my lord?"

"I still insist that I am not your master," said Harry.

"Yes, my master."

"However," said Harry, "it's not an order, it's just a reminder that anyone should know how to protect themselves, especially you. I'm sure the Defense Professor will, in principle, help you if you ask."

Lysas Strange bowed and said, "Yes, my master, if I can, I will follow your orders, my master."

If Harry wasn't fully understood, he'd complain about being misunderstood.

Lisa left.

Harry stared at the wall.

He really thought, after spending half a day thinking about it, that he had figured out all the ways he was stupid.

Obviously, he was too confident.

Do we really understand what we did wrong?said his Slytherin grimly.

Yes, Harry thought.

Your qualms don't make sense.You didn't lie to Lysas.You did exactly what Lessas thought you did.You don't have to explain why Lysas is helping you, you can just say you're taking back the favor for saving him from the bullies, which has 6 witnesses.

Hermione died because you forgot an extremely valuable resource, and the reason you forgot Lysas was...why?

Because having Lysas Lestrange as his sidekick looks a bit Dark Lord?Hufflepuff whispered in his head.I mean... this decision is so in my style...

Harry's Slytherin side responded with no words, just scorn, and an image of Hermione's dead body flashed up.

stop!Harry screamed inwardly.

Next time, said Slytherin dryly, I suggest we spend more time worrying about efficiency and effectiveness and less time worrying about looking like the Dark Lord.

Makes sense, Harry thought, and I would.

No, you won't, said Slytherin, you'll find more rationalizations for your little uneasiness, and you'll start listening to me when your next friend dies.

Harry was beginning to worry that he was going crazy.The conversation between him and the voice in his head wasn't usually like this.

the boy who lived

pain

Harley Verris walks alone

Injured

Harry walked down the quiet corridor.

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

"How is Mr. Potter?" Professor Quirrell asked.There was an uneasiness about the man that you wouldn't quite call worry, but more like an ambush counting the time to strike.No sooner had the Grangers and Madam Pomfrey left than the Defense Professor knocked on the door of her office, walked in without waiting for a response, and spoke before she could say a word.Part of Minerva wonders a little whether Harry Potter picked up this habit from his Defense professor - being oblivious to other people's pain when he's thinking about other things - or if it's just Childish flaws, and this man somehow didn't get rid of them.

"Mr. Potter no longer guards Miss Granger's body," she said, with a hint of coldness in her tone.She was pretty sure the Defense Professor wasn't grieving as much as she was, the man hadn't said a word about Hermione Granger.It was up to him to order her—"I think he's gone downstairs to supper."

"I'm not asking about the boy's physical state! Have you—did he—" Professor Quirrell made a sharp gesture, as if expressing a concept he couldn't put into words.

"No," she said.She had thirty seconds to order the Defense Professor out of her office.

Professor Quirrell began pacing the small confines of her office. "It was only Miss Granger's concern that really caught his attention—with her death—and all inhibitions against the boy's recklessness were lifted. I see now. Who else? Mr. Longbottom? Mr. Potter? Pretend they're companions. Flitwick? His goblin blood only wants revenge. Mr. Malfoy, if he comes back? What's the use? Snape? Walking disaster. Dumbledore? Phew, triggering disaster Events had been set up and had to be steered in unconventional directions. Who did Mr. Potter care about, and who wouldn't normally talk to him? Cedric Diggory taught him, but Mr. Diggory would advise What? No one knows. Mr. Potter had a long talk with Remus Lupine. I didn't pay much attention to him. Lupine would know what to say, what to do, what sacrifices to make to change that In the direction of the boy?" Professor Quirrell turned to face her. "Did Remus Lupine comfort those who were grieving when he was in the Order of the Phoenix, and stop them from doing reckless things?"

"It's not a bad idea," she said slowly, "I think Mr. Lupine was usually the voice that restrained James Potter during his time at Hogwarts."

"James Potter," said Professor Quirrell, narrowing his eyes, "that boy doesn't quite look like James Potter. Are you confident that this project will work? No, that's the wrong question, we're not limited to one project. Are you sure this plan is enough so that we don't have to implement another plan? Asking questions this way, the question is self-answering. Steps must be taken at every possible point of disruption to avoid the path to disaster." The defense professor continued in She paced around the confines of her office, reached one wall, turned her heels, and walked toward the other wall.

"I apologize, Professor," she didn't bother to hide the sharpness in her voice, "but I'm at my limit today. You should go."

"You," Professor Quirrell turned around sharply, and she found herself looking directly into icy blue eyes. "You're the first person I've thought of since Miss Granger to stop that boy from doing something stupid. Have you tried your best? Of course you haven't."

How dare he hint like that. "If you have nothing to say, Professor, then, you go."

"Have your allies deduced who I really am?" said the falsely gentle voice.

"Yes, actually. Now—"

Pure magic, pure power rushed into the room like a bolt of lightning, rang in her ears like thunder, drowning out her other senses, not a sudden gust of wind, but absolute primordial mysterious power, knocking the things on her table The paper was blown apart.

Then the power subsided, and only Hermione Granger's death certificate was left floating from the air to the floor.

"I'm David Monroe, and I fought Voldemort," said the man, his voice still soft. "Pay attention to my words. That boy's mental state cannot go on like this. He's going to be dangerous. Maybe you've done all you Can do. But I find that it happens very rarely, and often it's more talking than doing. I think it's more likely that you just do what you normally do. I can't really understand what drives others to push their limits , because I've never had limits. People are surprisingly negative in the face of death. The fear of being laughed at, or losing one's livelihood is more likely to drive people to extremes and break their habits. The other side of the war, The Dark Lord has achieved excellent results with the Cruciatus Curse, use it wisely on marked servants, punish unsuccessfully, and not accept moderate effort. Picture their mental state in your head and ask yourself if it is true Did everything you could to turn Harry Potter from his intended direction."

"I'm a Gryffindor, not too driven by fear," she shot back, "You have to be polite in my office!"

"I think fear is an excellent motivator, and indeed it is fear that drives me now. You-Know-Who, as terrifying as he is, is bound by certain boundaries. That boy may join those who invented magic Ceremonies have reduced many countries to rubble, and that's my professional judgment as a learned wizard who's almost on par with Dumbledore or someone who can't even speak their name. It's not unfounded, McGonagall, I heard the words enough to give rise to the gravest concerns."

"Are you crazy? You think Mr. Potter would—that's ridiculous. There's no way Mr. Potter—"

A wordless image flashed through my mind, it was a piece of glass on a metal ball.

"—Mr. Potter wouldn't do anything like that!"

"It doesn't have to be his choice. Wizards rarely set out to bring about their own doom. Mister Potter probably doesn't strike you as malevolent. Does he strike you as reckless once he's decided his target has made up his mind? I repeat. , I have clear reasons to be concerned about the most serious possibility."

"Have you spoken to the principal about this?" she said slowly.

"That's worse than being ineffective. Dumbledore can't impress the boy. At best he's wise enough to know that and not make things worse. I lack the necessary mentality. You're the one - but I see You're still looking for someone else to save you." The Defense Professor turned away from her, striding towards the door. "I think I'll consult Severus Snape. The man may be a walking disaster, but he knows the facts, and he probably knows the boy's mood better. As for you, lady, imagine you're at the end of your life, Know that England - no, England is not your true homeland, is it? Imagine the darkness gnawing at the faded walls of Hogwarts at the end of your life, knowing that your students will die with you, remember the day, and Realizing that you could have done something more."