Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality

'Gone to Azkaban of your own will?' Dumbledore said. 'Miss Granger, that is more than I would ever ask anyone to take upon themselves.'

'But -' Hermione swallowed. She couldn't help but notice the loophole, anyone who wanted to get through the portrait-door to the Ravenclaw dorm quickly learned to pay attention to exact wordings. 'But it's not more than you'd take on yourself.'

'Hermione -' the old wizard began.

'Why?' said Hermione's voice, it seemed to be running on without her mind, now. 'Why couldn't I be braver? I was going to run in front of the Dementor - for Harry - before, I mean, in January - so why - why - why couldn't I -' Why had the thought of being sent to Azkaban just completely unglued her, why had she forgotten everything about being Good -

'My dear girl,' Dumbledore said. The blue eyes behind the half-moon glasses showed a complete understanding of her guilt. 'I would have done no better myself, in my first year in Hogwarts. As you would be kind to others, be kinder to yourself as well.'

'So I did do the wrong thing.' Somehow she needed to say that, to be told that, even though she already knew.

There was a pause.

'Listen, young Ravenclaw,' the old wizard said, 'hear me well, for I shall speak to you a truth. Most ill-doers do not think of themselves as evil; indeed, most conceive themselves the heroes of the stories they tell. I once thought that the greatest evil in this world was done in the name of the greater good. I was wrong. Terribly wrong. There is evil in this world which knows itself for evil, and hates the good with all its strength. All fair things does it desire to destroy.'

Hermione shivered in her bed, somehow it seemed very real, when Dumbledore said it.

The old wizard continued speaking. 'You are one of the fair things of this world, Hermione Granger, and so that evil hates you as well. If you had stayed firm through even this trial, it would have struck you harder and yet harder, until you shattered. Do not think that heroes cannot be broken! We are only more difficult to break, Hermione.' The old wizard's eyes had grown sterner than she had ever seen. 'When you have been exhausted for many hours, when pain and death is not a passing fear but a certainty, then it is harder to be a hero. If I must speak the truth - then today, yes, I would not waver in the face of Azkaban. But when I was a first-year in Hogwarts - I would have fled from the Dementor that you confronted, for my father had died in Azkaban, and I feared them. Know this! The evil that struck at you could have broken anyone, even myself. Only Harry Potter has it within him to face that horror, when he has come fully into his power.'

Hermione's neck couldn't stare at the old wizard any longer; she let her head fall back, back to the pillow, where she stared up at the ceiling, absorbing what she could.

'Why?' Her voice trembled again. 'Why would anyone be that evil? I don't understand.'

'I, too, have wondered,' said Dumbledore's voice, a deep sadness in it. 'For thrice ten years I wondered, and I still do not understand. You and I will never understand, Hermione Granger. But at least I know now what true evil would say for itself, if we could speak to it and ask why it was evil. It would say, Why not? '

A brief flare of indignation inside her. 'There's got to be a million reasons why not!'

'Indeed,' said Dumbledore's voice. 'A million reasons and more. We will always know those reasons, you and I. If you insist on putting it that way - then yes, Hermione, this day's trial broke you. But what happens after you break - that, too, is part of being a hero. Which you are, Hermione Granger, and will always be.'

She raised her head again, staring at him.

The old wizard got up from beside her bed. His silver beard dipped down, as Dumbledore bowed to her gravely, and left.

She went on looking at where the old wizard had gone.

It should have meant something to her, should have touched her. Should have made her felt better inside, that Dumbledore, who had seemed so reluctant before, had now acknowledged her as a hero.

She felt nothing.

Hermione let her head fall back to the bed, as Madam Pomfrey came and made her drink something that seared her lips like the afterburn of spicy food, and smelled even hotter, and didn't taste like anything at all. It meant nothing to her. She went on staring up at the distant stone tiles of the ceiling.

Minerva was waiting, doing her best not to hover, beside the double doors to the Hogwarts infirmary, she'd always thought of those doors as 'the ominous gates' as a child in Hogwarts, and couldn't help but remember that now. Too much bad news had been spoken here -

Albus stepped out. The old wizard did not pause on the way out of the infirmary, only kept walking toward Professor Flitwick's office; and Minerva followed him.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat. 'Is it done, Albus?'

The old wizard nodded in affirmation. 'If any hostile magic is cast on her, or any spirit touches her, I shall know, and come.'

'I spoke to Mr. Potter after Transfiguration class,' said Professor McGonagall. 'He was of the opinion that Miss Granger should go to Beauxbatons, rather than Hogwarts, from now on.'

The old wizard shook his head. 'No. If Voldemort truly desires to strike at Miss Granger - he is tenacious beyond measure. His servants are returning to him, he could not have retrieved Bellatrix alone. Azkaban itself is not safe from his malice, and as for Beauxbatons - no, Minerva. I do not think Voldemort can essay such possessions often, or against stronger targets, or this year would have gone quite differently. And Harry Potter is here, whom Voldemort must fear whether he admits it or no. Now that I have warded her, Miss Granger will be safer within Hogwarts than without.'

'Mr. Potter seemed to doubt that,' Minerva said. She couldn't quite keep the edge from her voice; there was a part of her that agreed rather strongly. 'He seemed to feel that common sense said Miss Granger should continue her education anywhere but Hogwarts.'