Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality

Now what does that remind me of...?

Harry had arrived at the lesson so early that no other students were there yet. (The English language was defective when it came to describing time travel; in particular, English lacked any words capable of expressing how convenient it was.) Quirrell didn't seem to be... functional... at the moment, and Harry didn't particularly feel like approaching Quirrell anyway.

Harry selected a desk, climbed up to it, sat down, and retrieved the Defence textbook. He was around seven- eighths of the way through - he'd planned on finishing the book before this lesson, actually, but he was running behind schedule and had already used the Time-Turner twice today.

Soon there were sounds as the classroom began to fill up. Harry ignored them.

'Potter? What are you doing here?'

That voice didn't belong here. Harry looked up. 'Draco? What are you doing in oh my god you have minions.'

One of the lads standing behind Draco seemed to have rather a lot of muscle for an eleven-year-old, and the other was poised in a suspiciously balanced-looking stance.

The white-blonde-haired boy smiled rather smugly and gestured behind him. 'Potter, I introduce to you Mr. Crabbe,' his hand moved from Muscles to Balance, 'Mr. Goyle. Vincent, Gregory, this is Harry Potter.'

Mr. Goyle tilted his head and gave Harry a look that was probably supposed to mean something but ended up just looking squinty. Mr. Crabbe said 'Please to meetcha' in a tone that sounded like he was trying to lower his voice as far as it could go.

A fleeting expression of consternation crossed Draco's face, but was quickly replaced by his superior grin.

'You have minions!' Harry repeated. 'Where do I get minions?'

Draco's smirk grew wider. 'I'm afraid, Potter, that the first step is to be Sorted into Slytherin -'

'What? That's not fair!'

'- and then for your families to have an arrangement from before you were born.'

Harry looked at Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle. They both seemed to be trying very hard to loom. That is, they were leaning forwards, hunching over their shoulders, sticking their necks out and staring at him.

'Um... hold on,' said Harry. 'This was arranged years ago?'

'Exactly, Potter. I'm afraid you're out of luck.'

Mr. Goyle produced a toothpick and began cleaning his teeth, still looming.

'And,' said Harry, 'Lucius insisted that you were not to grow up knowing your bodyguards, and that you were only to meet them on your first day of school.'

That wiped the grin from Draco's face. 'Yes, Potter, we all know you're brilliant, the whole school knows by now, you can stop showing off -'

'So they've been told their whole lives that they're going to be your minions and they've spent years imagining what minions are supposed to be like -'

Draco winced.

'- and what's worse, they do know each other and they've been practising -'

'The boss told ya to shut it,' rumbled Mr. Crabbe. Mr. Goyle bit down on his toothpick, holding it between his teeth, and used one hand to crack the knuckles on the other.

'I told you not to do this in front of Harry Potter!'

The two looked a bit sheepish and Mr. Goyle quickly put the toothpick back in a pocket of his robes.

But the moment Draco turned away from them to face Harry again, they went back to looming.

'I apologise,' Draco said stiffly, 'for the insult which these imbeciles have offered you.'

Harry gave a meaningful look to Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle. 'I'd say you're being a little harsh on them, Draco. I think they're acting exactly the way I'd want my minions to act. I mean, if I had any minions.'

Draco's jaw dropped.

'Hey, Gregory, you don' think he's tryna lure us away from the boss, do ya?'

'I'm sure Mr. Potter wouldn't be that foolish.'

'Oh, I wouldn't dream of it,' Harry said smoothly. 'It's just something to keep in mind if your current employer seems unappreciative. Besides, it never hurts to have other offers while you're negotiating your working conditions, right?'

'What's he doin' in Ravenclaw?'

'I can't imagine, Mr. Crabbe.'

'Both of you shut up,' Draco said through gritted teeth. 'That's an order.' With a visible effort, he transferred his attention to Harry again. 'Anyway, what're you doing in the Slytherin Defence class?'

Harry frowned. 'Hold on.' His hand went into his pouch. 'Timetable.' He looked over the parchment. 'Defence, 2:30pm, and right now it's...' Harry looked at his mechanical watch, which read 11:23. '2:23, unless I've lost track