Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality

She looked at him. "Pretend there isn't all this stuff going on," she said, "and just say whatever you'd have said yesterday."

"Um..." Harry said, looking very confused and worried. "I think we already are ourselves... it's not like I'm an imperfect copy of someone else. But I guess if I try to run with the sense of the question, then I'd say that people don't become themselves because we absorb all this crazy stuff from the environment and then regurgitate it. I mean, how many people playing Quidditch would be playing a game like that if they'd invented the game themselves? Or back in Muggle Britain, how many people who think of themselves as Labour or Conservative or Liberal Democrat would invent that exact bundle of political beliefs if they had to come up with everything themselves?"

Hermione considered this. She'd been wondering if Harry would say something Slytherin or maybe even Gryffindor, but this didn't seem to fit into the Headmaster's list; and it occurred to Hermione that there might be a lot more viewpoints on the subject than just four.

"Okay," said Hermione, "different question. What makes someone a hero?"

"A hero?" said Harry.

"Yeah," said Hermione.

"Ah..." Harry said. His fork and knife nervously sawed at a piece of steak, cutting it into tinier and tinier pieces. "I think a lot of people can do things when the world channels them into it... like people are expecting you to do it, or it only uses skills you already know, or there's an authority watching to catch your mistakes and make sure you do your part. But problems like that are probably already being solved, you know, and then there's no need for heroes. So I think the people we call 'heroes' are rare because they've got to make everything up as they go along, and most people aren't comfortable with that. Why do you ask?" Harry's fork stabbed three pieces of thoroughly shredded steak and lifted them up to his mouth.

"Oh, I just stunned three older Slytherin bullies and rescued a Hufflepuff," said Hermione. "I'm going to be a hero."

When Harry had finished choking on his food (some of the other Ravenclaws in hearing distance were still coughing) he said, "What?"

Hermione told the story, it began rippling out in further whispers even as she spoke. (Though she left out the part about the phoenix, because that seemed like a private thing between the two of them. Hermione had felt surprised, thinking about it afterward, that a phoenix would appear for someone who wanted to be a hero; it seemed a bit selfish when she thought about it that way; but maybe it didn't matter to phoenixes so long as they saw that you were willing to help people.)

When she was done talking, Harry stared at her across the table and didn't say a word.

"I'm sorry for how I acted earlier," Hermione said. She sipped from her glass of grapefruit juice. "I should've remembered that if I'm still beating the pants off you in Charms class then it's okay for you to do better in Defense."

"Please don't take this the wrong way," said Harry. He looked too-adult now, and grim. "But are you sure this is who you are, and not, to put it bluntly, me?"

"I'm quite certain," said Hermione. "Why, my name practically spells out 'heroine' except for the extra 'm', I never noticed that until today."

"Being a hero isn't all fun and games," said Harry. "Not real heroing, the sort grownups have to do, it isn't like this, it isn't going to be this easy."

"I know," said Hermione.

"It's hard and it's painful and you've got to make decisions where there isn't any good answer -"

"Yes, Harry, I read those books too."

"No," said Harry, "you don't understand, even if the books warn you there's no way you can understand until -"

"That doesn't stop you," said Hermione. "It doesn't stop you even a little. I bet you never even considered not being a hero because of that. So why d'you think it'll stop me?"

There was a pause.

A sudden huge smile lit Harry's face, a smile that was as bright and as boyish as the frown had been grim and adult, and everything was all right again between them.

"This is going to go horribly mind-bogglingly wrong somehow," said Harry, still smiling hugely. "You know that, right?"

"Oh, I know," said Hermione. She ate another bite of toast. "That reminds me, Dumbledore refused to be my mysterious old wizard, is there someplace I can write to get another one?"

Aftermath:

"...and Professor Flitwick says her determination seems unshakeable," Minerva said tightly, staring at the silver-bearded old wizard who was responsible for this. Albus Dumbledore was just sitting silently and listening to her with a distant sad look in his eyes. "Miss Granger didn't even blink when Professor Flitwick threatened to have her transferred to Gryffindor, just said that if she left she would take all the books with her. Hermione Granger has decided she's going to be a hero and she's not taking no for an answer. I doubt you could have pushed her into this any harder if you had tried to -"

It took all of five full seconds for Minerva's brain to process the realization.

"ALBUS!" she shrieked.

"My dear," said the old wizard, "after you have dealt with your thirtieth hero or so, you will realize that they react quite predictably to certain things; such as being told that they are too young, or that they are not destined to be heroes, or that being a hero is unpleasant; and if you truly wish to be sure you should tell them all three. Although," with a brief sigh, "it does not do to be too blatant, or your Deputy Headmistress might catch you."

"Albus," Minerva said, her voice even tighter, "if she is hurt, I swear this time I'll -"