Eliezer Yudkowsky - Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality

Some part of Harry’s mind scrabbled frantically, looking for something, anything that might be of more value to Lord Voldemort or Professor Quirrell than child hostages or Severus’s death.

Another part of him, the part that had never stopped thinking, already knew his answer.

“You already have an idea for what you want from me,” Harry said, through the sickness and the bleeding wounds in his soul. “What is it?”

“Your help in obtaining the Philosopher’s Stone.”

Harry swallowed. He couldn’t stop his eyes from going to the gun, then back up at Professor Quirrell’s face.

He was aware that the hero in a storybook was supposed to say ‘No’, but now that he was actually in a situation like this, saying ‘No’ didn’t seem to make sense.

“I am disappointed that you need to think about this,” said Professor Quirrell. “It is straightforward that you should obey me for now, since I hold every advantage over you. I have taught you better than this; in this situation you should certainly pretend to lose. You can expect to gain nothing by resisting, except pain. You should have calculated that it was better to answer sooner, and not earn my distrust.” Professor Quirrell’s eyes studied him curiously. “Perhaps Dumbledore has filled your ears with nonsense about noble defiance? I find such morals amusing, since they are so easy to manipulate. I assure you that I can make defiance seem morally worse, and you would be well advised to submit before I demonstrate how.” The gun stayed pointed at Harry; but with a wave of Professor Quirrell’s other hand, Tracey Davis rose up into the air, spun lazily, her limbs stretched out spreadeagle—

—then, even as new adrenaline hammered at Harry’s heart, Tracey floated back down again.

“Choose,” said Professor Quirrell. “This begins to try my patience.”

I should have spoken just then, before he might’ve ripped off Tracey’s legs, no, I shouldn’t have, the Headmaster said I mustn’t show Lord Voldemort that I’ll do things if he threatens my friends because that will just make him threaten more of them—only what he said before isn’t a threat it’s just the sort of thing Lord Voldemort does —

Harry took a deep breath, several of them. Whatever part of him kept on running on full automatic was screaming at the remainder of his mind that it could not afford to stay in shock. Shocks were of finite duration, neurons kept firing regardless, the only reason Harry’s mind would shut down while his brain kept running was if Harry’s self-model believed his mind would shut down—

“I don’t mean to try your patience,” Harry said. His voice was cracking. That was good. Sounding like he was still in shock meant that Lord Voldemort might give him more time. “But if Lord Voldemort had a reputation for keeping his bargains, I don’t know about it.”

“An obvious concern,” Professor Quirrell said. “There is a simple answer, and I would have enforced it upon you in any case. Ssnakes can't lie . And since I have a tremendous distaste for stupidity, I suggest you do not say anything like ‘What do you mean?’ You are smarter than that, and I do not have time for such conversations as ordinary people inflict on one another.”

Harry swallowed. Snakes can’t lie. “ Two pluss two equalss four. ” Harry had tried to say that two plus two equalled three, and the word four had slipped out instead.

“Good. When Salazar Slytherin invoked the Parselmouth curse upon himself and all his children, his true plan was to ensure his descendants could trust one another’s words, whatever plots they wove against outsiders.” Professor Quirrell had adopted his lecturing pose from Battle Magic, like someone putting on a well-worn mask, but the gun remained pointed in his hand. “Occlumency cannot fool the Parselmouth curse as it can fool Veritaserum, and you may put that to the trial also. Now listen well. Come with me, promisse your besst aid in getting Sstone, and I sshall leave thesse children behind unharmed. Hosstagess are real, hundredss of sstudentss die tonight unlesss I sstop eventss already sset in motion. Will sspare hosstagess if I obtain Sstone ssuccessfully. And mark also this, mark it well: I cannot be truly sslain by any power known to me, and lossing Sstone will not sstop me from returning, nor sspareyouoryourssmywrath. Any impetuous act you are contemplating cannot win the game for you, boy. I do credit your ability to annoy me, and suggest you avoid doing so.”

“You said,” Harry’s voice was strange in his own ears, “that the Philosopher’s Stone had different powers from what legend said. You said that to me in Parseltongue. Tell me what the Stone really does, before I agree to help you get it.” If it was something along the lines of gaining total power over the universe, then nothing was worth an incrementally greater chance of Lord Voldemort getting the Stone.

“Ah,” said Professor Quirrell, and smiled. “You are thinking. That is better, and as a reward I shall offer you a further incentive for cooperation. Eternal life and youth, the creation of gold and silver. Suppose these are true benefits of holding the Stone. Tell me, boy. What is the Stone’s power?”

It might have been the adrenaline still in him, being actually useful for his brain for once. It might have been the power of being told that an answer existed, and that the evidence wasn’t a lie. “It can make Transfigurations permanent.”

Then Harry stopped, as he heard what his own mouth had just said.

“Correct,” said Professor Quirrell. “Thus, whoever holds the Philosopher’s Stone is able to perform human Transfiguration.”

Harry’s torn mind was knocked about yet again, as he realized what further incentive would be offered him.

“You stole Miss Granger’s remains and Transfigured them into some innocuous-appearing target,” said Professor Quirrell. “A Transfigured target that you must keep somewhere about your own person, in order to sustain the Transfiguration. Ah, I see your eyes going to that ring upon your hand, but of course Miss Granger would not be the little jewel set into the ring, would it? That would be too obvious. No, I expect you Transfigured Granger’s remains into the ring itself, letting the aura of the Transfigured jewel mask the magic in the Transfigured ring.”

“Yes,” Harry said, forcing out the word. It was a lie, for once, and Harry’s glance had been deliberate. Harry had expected someone to challenge him on the steel ring, he’d tried to provoke that challenge so he could prove to be innocent yet again, though nobody had taken him up on it—maybe Dumbledore had just sensed that the steel by itself wasn’t magical.

“Fine and good,” said Professor Quirrell. “Now come with me, help me to obtain the Stone, and I will resurrect Hermione Granger on your behalf. Her death has had unfortunate effects on you, and I would not mind undoing them. That, as I understand you, is your greatest desire. I have done you many kindnesses, and I would not mind doing you this one more.” A blank-eyed Professor Sprout had now risen from the ground and was pointing her own wand at Harry. “ Help me obtain Sstone of Transsfiguration, and I sshall try my hardesst to ressurrect your girl-child friend to true and lassting life. That ssaid, boy, I am sswiftly running out of patience with you, and you sshall not like what comess next. ” This last line was hissed out in a voice that conveyed the impression of a snake rearing its head to strike.

Even then.

Even then, with all the world upturned, with shock after shock, even then Harry’s brain did not stop being a brain, or completing the patterns its circuits had been wired to complete.