Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality

you're for Sunshine. So I order you to let me shoot you."

"Hold on!" said Parvati. "We're only ahead of Chaos by one point! If you shoot me now -"

"I'll shoot you in the name of Dragon, obviously," said Zabini, now sounding a little superior. "Just because we tricked them into doing it, doesn't mean it won't work for us."

Parvati stared at him, her eyes narrowing. "General Malfoy said your mother doesn't like Hermione."

"I suppose," said Zabini, still with that superior smirk. "But some of us are more willing than Draco Malfoy to annoy a parent."

"And Harry Potter said you have a cousin -"

"Nope," said Zabini.

Parvati stared at him, trying to think, but she wasn't really good at plotting; Zabini'd said the plan was to secretly keep the scores of Chaos and Dragon as even as possible so they'd use Sunshine's name to execute their traitors instead of losing even a single point, and that had worked... but... she had the feeling she was missing something, she wasn't a Slytherin...

"Why don't I shoot you in the name of Dragon?" said Parvati.

"Because I outrank you," said Zabini.

Parvati had a bad feeling about this.

She stared at him for a long moment.

And then -

"Somni-" she started to say, and then realized she hadn't said for Dragon, and frantically cut herself off -

Granger: 255 / Malfoy: 254 / Potter: 254

"Hey, everyone," said Blaise Zabini's face on the screens, looking quite amused, "guess it's all down to me."

All by the lakeside, people were holding their breath.

Sunshine was ahead of Dragon and Chaos by exactly one point.

Blaise Zabini could shoot himself in the name of either Dragon or Chaos, or just leave things the way they were.

A series of chimes indicated that the last minute of time was running out.

And the Slytherin was smiling a strange, twisted smile, and casually toying with his wand, the dark wood barely visible in the dark water.

"You know," said Blaise Zabini's voice, in the tones of someone who'd been rehearsing the words for a while, "it's just a game, really. And games are supposed to be fun. So how about if I just do whatever I feel like?"

Chapter 34: Coordination Problems, Pt 2

Minerva and Dumbledore together had applied their combined talent to conjure the grand stage toward which Quirrell now slowly trudged; it was, at its core, sturdy wood, but the outer surfaces shone with glitter of marble inlaid with platinum and studded with gems of every House color. Neither she nor the Headmaster was any Founder of Hogwarts, but the conjuration only needed to last a few hours. Minerva ordinarily enjoyed the few occasions when she had the occasion to tire herself out on large Transfigurations; she should have enjoyed the many small chances for artistry, and the illusion of opulence; but this time she had done the work with the dreadful feeling of digging her own grave.

But Minerva was feeling a little better now. There'd been one brief moment when the explosion might've come; but Dumbledore had already been standing up and applauding warmly, and no one had proven foolish enough to riot in front of the Headmaster.

And the explosive mood had rapidly faded into a collective sentiment which might perhaps have been described by the phrase: Give us a break!

Blaise Zabini had shot himself in the name of Sunshine, and the final score had been 254 to 254 to 254.

Behind the stage, waiting to ascend, three children were glaring at each other in mingled fury and frustration. It didn't help that they were still damp from being fished out of the lake, and that the Warming Charms didn't seem quite enough to make up for the crisp December air, or maybe it was just their mood.

"That's it," said Granger. "I've had it! No more traitors!"

"I completely agree with you, Miss Granger," Draco said icily. "Enough is enough."

"And what do you two intend to do about it?" snapped Harry Potter. "Professor Quirrell already said he wouldn't ban spies!"

"We'll ban them for him," said Draco grimly. He hadn't even understood what he meant by the words as he said them, but the very act of speaking seemed to crystallize a plan -

The stage really was well done, at least for a temporary structure; the makers hadn't fallen into the usual pitfall of being impressed by their own illusion of wealth, and knew something about architecture and visual style. From where Draco stood, in the obvious place for him to stand, the watching students would see him haloed in the faint glitter of emeralds; and Granger, standing where Draco had subtly motioned her, would be haloed in Ravenclaw's sapphire. As for Harry Potter, Draco wasn't looking at him right now.

Professor Quirrell had... awakened, or whatever it was he did; and was leaning upon a platinum podium bare of