Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality

Professor Quirrell straightened from where he had been leaning against the wall. "You were Sorted into Slytherin, Miss Davis, and I expect that you will grasp at any opportunity for advancement which falls into your hands. But there is no great ambition that you are driven to accomplish, and you will not make your opportunities. At best you will grasp your way upward into Minister of Magic, or some other high position of unimportance, never breaking the bounds of your existence."

Then Professor Quirrell's gaze shifted away from Tracey, he was looking at her, the pale blue eyes staring at her with an awful intensity - "Tell me, Miss Granger. Do you have an ambition?"

"Professor -" squeaked the high stern voice of Professor Flitwick, and then her Head of House's voice cut off, and from the side of her vision Hermione saw that Harry had laid his hand on Professor Flitwick's shoulder and was shaking his head, face looking very adult.

Hermione felt like a deer caught in headlights.

"What drove you to break your bounds, Miss Granger?" said the Defense Professor, still gazing directly at her. "Why is getting good marks in class no longer enough? Is it true greatness that you seek? Does some aspect of the world dissatisfy you, that you must remake according to your will? Or is this all merely a child's game to you? I will be quite disappointed if this is only about rivaling Harry Potter."

"I -" said Hermione, her voice so high-pitched it made a sort of peeping sound, but then she couldn't think of what else to say.

"You may take a moment to think, if you like," said Professor Quirrell. "Pretend it is a homework essay, six inches due Thursday. I hear you are quite eloquent in them."

Everyone was looking at her.

"I -" said Hermione. "I don't agree with one single thing you just said, anywhere."

"Well spoken," came Professor McGonagall's crisp voice.

Professor Quirrell's gaze did not waver. "That is not six inches, Miss Granger. Something drives you to defy the Headmaster's verdict and gather followers about yourself. Perhaps it is something you prefer not to speak aloud?"

Hermione knew the correct answer wouldn't impress Professor Quirrell, but it was the correct answer, so she said it. "I don't think you need ambition to be a hero," Hermione said. Her voice wavered but it didn't crack. "I think you just have to do what's right. And they're not my followers, we're friends."

Professor Quirrell leaned back against the wall again. The half-smile had faded from his face. "Most folk tell themselves they are doing right, Miss Granger. They do not thereby rise above the ordinary."

Hermione took a couple of deep breaths, trying to be brave. "It's not about being not ordinary," she said as stoutly as she could. "But I think if someone just tries to do what's right, over and over again, and they're not too lazy to do all the work it takes, and they think about what they're doing, and they're brave enough to do it even when they're scared -" Hermione paused for an instant, her eyes darting to Tracey and Daphne, "- and they cleverly plan how to do it - and they don't just do what other people do - then I think someone like that would already get into enough trouble."

Some of the girls and boys chuckled, as did Professor McGonagall, who looked wry and proud at the same time.

"You may be right about that," said the Defense Professor, his eyes half-lidded. He tossed Hermione the button, and she caught it without thinking. "My donation to your cause, Miss Granger. I understand that they are worth two Sickles."

The Defense Professor turned and walked away without another word.

"I thought I was going to faint!" gasped Hannah after his footsteps had faded, and she heard some of the other girls letting out their breath or putting down their signs for a moment.

"I do too have an ambition!" said Tracey, who seemed to be almost on the verge of tears. "I'm - I'm - I'll figure out what it is by tomorrow, but I have one, I'm sure!"

"If you really can't think of anything," Daphne said, giving Tracey a comforting pat on the shoulder, "just go with the oldie but goodie and try to take over the world."

"Hey!" said Susan sharply. "You're supposed to be heroes now! That means you have to be good! "

"No, it's all right," said Lavender, "I'm pretty sure General Chaos wants to take over the world and he's sort of a good guy."

More conversation was going on behind the picket line. "My goodness," said Penelope Clearwater. "I think that's the most overtly evil Defense Professor we've ever had."

Professor McGonagall coughed warningly, and the Head Boy said, "You weren't around for Professor Barney," which made several people twitch.

"Professor Quirrell just talks like that," said Harry Potter, though he sounded less certain than before. "I mean, think about it, he doesn't do anything like what Professor Snape does -"

"Mr. Potter," squeaked Professor Flitwick, voice polite and face stern, "why did you ask me to stay silent?"

"Professor Quirrell was testing Hermione to see if he wanted to be her mysterious old wizard," Harry said. "Which totally would not have worked out in any way, shape, or form, but she had to answer for herself."

Hermione blinked.

Then Hermione blinked again, as she realized that it was Professor Quirrell who was Harry Potter's mysterious old wizard, and not Dumbledore at all, and that really wasn't a good sign -

A rumbling noise filled the small stone vestibule, and Hermione, her nerves already on edge, spun rapidly around, almost dropping her protest sign as her other hand darted toward her wand.

The gargoyles were stepping aside, the Flowing Stone rumbling like rock as it moved like flesh. The huge ugly