Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality

Harry nodded, though his face was still a bit tight.

'And we still have to stop,' said Hermione.

'Why?' said Harry. 'Don't you see what this means, Hermione? Wizards don't know everything! There's too few of them, even fewer who know any science, they haven't exhausted the low-hanging fruit -'

'It's not safe,' Hermione said. 'If we can find out new things it's even less safe! We're too young! We made one big mistake already, next time we could just die!'

Then Hermione flinched.

Harry looked away from her, and started taking slow, deep breaths.

'Please don't try to do it alone, Harry,' Hermione said, her voice trembling. 'Please.'

Please don't make me have to decide whether to tell Professor Flitwick.

There was a long pause.

'So you want us to study,' Harry said. She could tell he was trying to keep the anger out of his voice. 'Just study.'

Hermione wasn't sure if she should say anything, but... 'Like you studied, um, timeless physics, right?'

Harry looked back at her.

'That thing you did,' Hermione said, her voice tentative, 'it wasn't because of our experiments, right? You could do it because you'd read lots of books.'

Harry opened his mouth, and then he shut it again. There was a frustrated look on his face.

'All right,' Harry said. 'How about this. We study, and if I think of anything that seems really worth trying, we'll try it after I ask a professor.'

'Okay,' Hermione said. She didn't fall over with relief, but only because she was already sitting down.

'Shall we get lunch?' Harry said cautiously.

Hermione nodded. Yes. Lunch sounded good. For real, this time.

She carefully began to push herself off the stone floor, wincing as her body screamed at her -

Harry pointed his wand at her and said 'Wingardium Leviosa.'

Hermione blinked as the huge weight on her legs diminished to something bearable.

A smile quirked across Harry's face. 'You can lift something without being able to Hover it completely,' he said. 'Remember that experiment?'

Hermione smiled back helplessly, although she thought she ought to still be angry.

And she started walking back toward the Great Hall, feeling remarkably and wonderfully light on her feet, as Harry carefully kept his wand trained on her.

He only managed to keep it up for five minutes, but it was the thought that counted.

Minerva looked at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore gazed back inquiringly at her. 'Did you understand any of that?' the Headmaster said, sounding bemused.

It had been the most complete and utter gibberish that Minerva could ever remember hearing. She was feeling a bit embarrassed about having summoned the Headmaster to hear it, but she'd been given explicit instructions.

'I'm afraid not,' Professor McGonagall said primly.

'So,' Dumbledore said. The silver beard swung away from her, the old wizard's twinkling gaze looked elsewhere once more. 'You suspect you might be able to do something that other wizards can't do, something we think is impossible.'

The three of them stood within the Headmaster's private Transfiguration workroom, where the shining phoenix of Dumbledore's Patronus had told her to bring Harry, moments after her own Patronus had reached him. Light shone down through the skylights and illuminated the great seven-pointed alchemical diagram drawn in the center of the circular room, showing it to be a little dusty, which saddened Minerva. Transfiguration research was one of Dumbledore's great enjoyments, and she'd known how pressed for time he'd been lately, but not that he was this pressed.

And now Harry Potter was going to waste even more of the Headmaster's time. But she certainly couldn't blame Harry for that. He'd done the proper thing in coming to her to say that he'd had an idea for doing something in Transfiguration that was currently believed to be impossible, and she herself had done exactly what she'd been told to do: she'd ordered Harry to be quiet and not discuss anything with her until she had consulted the Headmaster and they'd finished moving to a secure location.

If Harry had started out by saying what specifically he thought he could do, she wouldn't have bothered.

'Look, I know it's hard to explain,' Harry said, sounding a little embarrassed. 'What it adds up to is that what you believe conflicts with what scientists believe, in a case where I'd genuinely expect scientists to know more than wizards.'

Minerva would have sighed out loud, if Dumbledore hadn't seemed to be taking the whole thing very seriously.

Harry's idea stemmed from simple ignorance, nothing more. If you changed half of a metal ball into glass, the whole ball had a different Form. To change the part was to