Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality

herself she turned into a black-haired boy until she got it under control again."

"Really? Cool," said Harry, sounding a bit distracted. "Um, Hermione, just to check, you know tomorrow is the last day to sign up for Professor Quirrell's armies, right?"

"Yes," Hermione said. "The armies of the evil Professor Quirrell." Her voice was a little angry, though Harry didn't know why, of course.

"Hermione," Harry said, his voice exasperated, "he's not evil. He's a little bit Dark and a whole lot Slytherin. It's not the same as being evil."

Harry Potter had too many words for things, that was his problem. He would have been better off if he'd just divided the universe into Good and Bad. "Professor Quirrell called me up in front of the whole class and told me to shoot someone!"

"He was right," Harry said, his face sober. "I'm sorry, Hermione, but he was. You should have shot me, I wouldn't have minded. You can't learn Battle Magic if you can't practice against real opponents using real spells. And now you're doing okay in sparring, aren't you?"

Hermione was only twelve, and so she knew, but she couldn't put it into words, she couldn't find the thing to say that would convince Harry.

Professor Quirrell had taken a young girl and called up that girl in front of everyone, and ordered her to open fire without provocation on a classmate.

It didn't matter if Professor Quirrell was right about her needing to learn it.

Professor McGonagall wouldn't ever have done that.

Professor Flitwick wouldn't ever have done that.

Maybe not even Professor Snape would have done that.

Professor Quirrell was EVIL.

But she couldn't find the words, and she knew that Harry would never believe her.

"Hermione, I've talked to older students," Harry said. "Professor Quirrell could be the only competent Defense Professor we get in all seven years at Hogwarts. Anything else we can learn later. If we want to study Defense, we have to do it this year. The students who sign up for the extracurricular stuff are going to be learning huge amounts, way beyond what the Ministry thinks first-years are supposed to study - did you know we're going to be learning the Patronus Charm? In January?"

"The Patronus Charm?" Hermione said, her voice going up in surprise.

Her books said that was one of the brightest magics known, a weapon against the Darkest creatures, cast with pure positive emotions. It wasn't something she'd expect the evil Professor Quirrell to teach - or arrange to be taught, since Hermione couldn't imagine he could do the spell himself.

"Yes," Harry said. "Students don't usually learn the Patronus Charm until their fifth years or even later! But Professor Quirrell says the Ministry schedules were made up by talking Flobberworms, and the ability to cast the Patronus Charm depends on emotions more than magical strength. Professor Quirrell says that he thinks most students do way less than they can, and this year he's going to prove it."

There was the usual tone of awed worship that Harry's voice had when he talked about Professor Quirrell, and Hermione gritted her teeth and kept walking.

"I already signed up, actually," Hermione said, her voice a little quiet. "I did it this morning. For everything, just like you said."

In for a penny, in for a pound was the usual expression.

Besides, she didn't want to lose, and if she wanted to win she had to learn.

"So you will be in the armies, then?" Harry's voice was suddenly enthusiastic. "That's awesome, Hermione! I've already gotten my list of soldiers, but I'm sure Professor Quirrell will let me add one more, or trade -"

"I'm not joining your army." Hermione's voice was sharp. She knew it was a reasonable assumption but it still annoyed her.

Harry blinked. "Not Draco Malfoy's, surely. So you want to be in the third army? Even though we don't know who the general is yet?" Harry sounded surprised and a little wounded, and she couldn't blame him, though of course she did blame him, since in fact it was all his fault. "But why not mine?"

"Think about it," Hermione snapped, "and maybe you'll work it out!"

And she sped up her stride and left Harry gaping behind her.

"Professor Quirrell," Draco said in his most formal voice, "I must protest your appointment of Hermione Granger as the third general."

"Oh?" said Professor Quirrell, leaning back in his chair in a casual and relaxed manner. "Protest away, Mr. Malfoy."

"Granger is unfit for the position," said Draco.

Professor Quirrell tapped a finger on his cheek thoughtfully. "Why yes, yes she is. Do you have any further protests?"

"Professor Quirrell," said Harry Potter beside him, "with all due respect to Miss Granger's many outstanding academic talents and the Quirrell points she has justly earned in your classes, her personality is not suited to military command."

Draco had been relieved when Harry had agreed to accompany him to Professor Quirrell's office. It wasn't just that Harry was a gigantic blatant teacher's pet where Professor Quirrell was concerned. Draco had also started to worry that Harry actually was friends with Granger, it had been a while now and he still hadn't made his move... but this was more like it.