Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality

'No!' said Hermione. 'We shouldn't have to gang up on General Potter just to stand a chance. That doesn't make sense, especially now that nobody can use Muggle things anymore. It's still twenty-four soldiers in every army.'

Neither Padma or Anthony said anything to that.

Knock-knock, knock-knock.

'Come in, Mr. Potter,' she said.

The door creaked open, and Harry Potter slipped through the opening into her office; he pushed the door shut behind him with one hand, and wordlessly seated himself in the cushioned chair that now stood in front of her desk. She'd Transfigured that chair so often that it sometimes changed form to reflect her mood, without any wand movement or incantation or even conscious intent. Right now, that chair had become deeply cushioned, so that as Harry sat down he sank into it, as though the chair were hugging him.

Harry didn't seem to notice. There was an air of quiet determination about the boy; his eyes had locked steadily with hers, and not let up for a moment. 'You called me?' said the boy.

'I did,' said Professor McGonagall. 'I have two pieces of good news for you, Mr. Potter. First - have you met Mr. Rubeus Hagrid, at all? The groundskeeper? He was an old friend of your parents.'

Harry hesitated. Then, 'Mr. Hagrid spoke to me a bit after I got here,' Harry said. 'I think it was on Tuesday of my first week of school. He didn't say he knew my parents, though. At the time I thought he just wanted to introduce himself to the Boy-Who-Lived... did he have some kind of hidden agenda? He didn't seem like the type...'

'Ah...' she said. It took her a moment to pull her thoughts together. 'It's a long story, Mr. Potter, but Mr. Hagrid was falsely accused of murdering a student, five decades ago. Mr. Hagrid's wand was snapped, and he was expelled. Later, when Professor Dumbledore became Headmaster, he gave Mr. Hagrid a place here as Keeper of Grounds and Keys.'

Harry's eyes watched her intently. 'You said that five decades ago was the last time a student died in Hogwarts, and you were certain that five decades ago was the last time someone heard the Sorting Hat's secret message.'

She felt a slight chill - even the Headmaster or Severus might not have made that connection that quickly - and said, 'Yes, Mr. Potter. Someone opened the Chamber of Secrets, but this was not believed, and Mr. Hagrid was blamed for the resulting death. However, the Headmaster has located the additional enchantment on the Sorting Hat, and he has shown it to a special panel of the Wizengamot. As a result, Mr. Hagrid's sentence has been revoked - just this morning, in fact - and he will be allowed to acquire a new wand.' She hesitated. 'We... have not yet told Mr. Hagrid of this, Mr. Potter. We were waiting until the deed was done, so as not to give him false hope after so long. Mr. Potter... we were wondering if we could tell Mr. Hagrid that it was you who helped him...?'

She saw the weighing look in his eyes -

'I remember Mr. Hagrid holding you when you were a baby,' she said. 'I think he would be very happy to know.'

She could see it, though, on Harry's face, the moment when he decided that Rubeus wouldn't be any use to him.

Harry shook his head. 'Bad enough that someone might deduce there was a Parselmouth in this year's crop of students,' Harry said. 'I think it'd be more prudent to just keep it all as secret as possible.'

She remembered James and Lily, who'd never hesitated to return the friendship the huge, bluff man had offered them, for all that James was the scion of a Noble House or Lily a budding Charms Mistress, and Rubeus a mere half-giant whose wand had been snapped...

'Because you don't expect him to prove useful, Mr. Potter?'

There was silence. She hadn't intended to say that out loud.

Sadness crossed Harry's face. 'Probably,' Harry said quietly. 'But I don't think he and I would get along, do you?'

Something seemed to be stuck in her throat.

'Speaking of making use of people,' Harry said. 'It seems I'm going to be thrown into a war with a Dark Lord sometime soon. So while I'm in your office, I'd like to ask that my sleep cycle be extended to thirty hours per day. Neville Longbottom wants to start practicing dueling, there's an older Hufflepuff who offered to teach him, and they invited me to join. Plus there's other things I want to learn too - and if you or the Headmaster think I should study anything in particular, in order to become a powerful wizard when I grow up, let me know. Please direct Madam Pomfrey to administer the appropriate potion, or whatever it is that she needs to do -'

'Mr. Potter!'

Harry's eyes gazed directly into her own. 'Yes, Minerva? I know it wasn't your idea, but I'd like to survive the use the Headmaster's making of me. Please don't be an obstacle to that.'

It almost broke her. 'Harry,' she whispered in a bare voice, 'children shouldn't have to think like that!'

'You're right, they shouldn't,' Harry said. 'A lot of children have to grow up too early, though, not just me; and most children like that would probably trade places with me in five seconds. I'm not going to pity myself, Professor McGonagall, not when there are people out there in real trouble and I'm not one of them.'

She swallowed, hard, and said, 'Mr. Potter, at thirty hours per day, you'll - get older, you'll age faster -' Like Albus.

'And in my fifth year I'll be around the same physiological age as Hermione,' said Harry. 'Doesn't seem that terrible.' There was a wry smile now on Harry's face. 'Honestly, I'd probably want this even if there weren't a Dark Lord. Wizards live for a while, and either wizards or Muggles will probably push that out even further over the next century. There's no reason not to pack as many hours into a day as I can. I've got things I plan to do, and 'twere well they were done quickly.'

There was a long pause.

'All right,' Minerva said. It came out as almost a whisper. She raised her voice. 'All right, Mr. Potter, I shall ask