Eliezer Yudkowsky - Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality

Hermione took her wand back, and then her pouch, the motions somehow managing to look graceful even though her fingers were a bit shaky.

“Let’s see, what else… the oath you swore before to House Potter only said you had to serve until ‘the day you die’, so you’re now free and clear. And right after your death I got the Malfoys to publicly declare that you were innocent of all charges in Draco’s attempted murder.”

“Why, thank you again, Harry,” said Hermione Granger. “That was very nice of you, and them too, I guess.” She was repeatedly running her fingers through her chestnut curls, as though, by organizing her hair, she could restore sanity to her life.

“Last but not least, I had the goblins start the process of building a vault in Gringotts for House Granger,” Harry said. “I didn’t put any money into it, because that was something where I could wait and ask you first. But if you’re going to be a superhero who goes around righting certain kinds of wrongs, it will help a lot if people consider you to be part of the upper social strata and, um, I think it may help if they know you can afford lawyers. I can put in as much gold into your vault as you want, since after Voldemort killed Nicholas Flamel, I ended up holding the Philosopher’s Stone.”

“I feel like I ought to be fainting,” Hermione said in a high-pitched voice, “only I can’t because of my superpowers and why do I have those again?”

“If it’s all right with you, your Occlumency lessons will start on Wednesday with Mr. Bester, he can work with you once per day. Until then, I think it might be better for the true origin of your powers not to become known just because a Legilimens looks you in the eyes. I mean, obviously there’s a normal magical explanation, nothing super supernatural, but people do tend to worship their own ignorance and, well, I think the Girl-Who-Revived will be more effective if you remain mysterious. Once you can keep out Mr. Bester and beat Veritaserum, I’ll tell you the entire backstory, I promise, including all the secrets you can never tell anyone else.”

“That sounds lovely,” said Hermione Granger. “I’m quite looking forward to it.”

“Though you’ll need to take an Unbreakable Vow to not do anything that might destroy the world before I can tell you the more dangerous parts of the story. I mean, I literally can’t tell you otherwise, because I took an Unbreakable Vow myself. Is that okay?”

“Sure,” said Hermione. “Why shouldn’t it be okay? I wouldn’t want to destroy the world anyhow.”

“Do you need to sit down again?” Harry said, feeling alarmed by the way Hermione was swaying slightly, as though in rhythm with the words being spoken.

Hermione Granger took several deep breaths. “No, I’m perfectly peachy,” she said. “Is there anything else I should know about?”

“That was it. I’m finished, at least for now.” Harry paused. “I do understand that you want to do things for yourself, not just have them done for you. It’s just… you’re going to be a more serious kind of hero, and the only sane choice is for me to give you all the advantages I can manage—”

“I understand that quite well,” Hermione said. “Now that I’ve actually lost a fight and died. I didn’t used to understand, but now I do.” A breeze ruffled Hermione’s chestnut hair and stirred her robes, making her look even more peaceful in the dawn air, as she raised one hand and carefully clenched it into a fist. “If I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it right . We need to measure how hard I can punch, and how high I can jump, and figure out a safe way to test if my fingernails can kill Lethifolds like a real unicorn’s horn, and I should practice using my speed to dodge spells I can’t let hit me and… and it sounds like you could maybe arrange for me to get Auror training, like from whoever taught Susan Bones.” Hermione was smiling again now, a strange light in her eyes that would’ve puzzled Dumbledore for hours and that Harry understood immediately, not without a twinge of apprehension. “Oh! And I want to start carrying Muggle weapons, maybe hidden so nobody knows I have them. I thought of incendiary grenades when I was fighting the troll, but I knew I couldn’t Transfigure them fast enough, even after I stopped caring about obeying the rules.”

“I have the feeling,” Harry said, imitating Professor McGonagall’s Scottish accent as best he could, “that I ought to be doing something about this.”

“Oh, it’s much, much, MUCH too late for that, Mr. Potter. Say, can you get me a bazooka? The rocket launcher, I mean, not the chewing gum? I bet they won’t be expecting that from a young girl, especially if I’m radiating an aura of innocence and purity.”

“All right,” Harry said calmly, “ now you’re starting to scare me.”

Hermione paused from where she was experimenting with balancing on the tip of her left shoe, her arm reaching in one direction and her right leg stretched in the other, like a ballet dancer. “Am I? I was just thinking that I didn’t see what I could do that a Ministry squad of Hit Wizards couldn’t. They have broomsticks for mobility and spells that hit harder than I possibly could.” She gracefully lowered her leg back down. “I mean, now that I can try a few things without worrying about who’s watching, I’m starting to think that I really really really like having superpowers. But I still don’t see how I could win a fight that Professor Flitwick couldn’t, not unless it involves me taking a Dark Wizard by surprise.”

You can take risks other people shouldn’t, and try again with the knowledge of what killed you. You can experiment with new spells, more than anyone else could try without dying for sure. But Harry couldn’t say any of that yet, so instead he said, “I think it’s okay to think more about the future, not just what you can do this very minute.”

Hermione jumped high in the air, clicked her heels together three times on the way down, and landed on her tiptoes, perfectly posed. “But you said there was something I could do right away. Or were you just testing?”

“ That part is a special case,” Harry said, feeling the chill of the dawn air against his skin. He was increasingly not looking forward to telling super-Hermione that her Ordeal would involve facing her literal worst nightmare, under conditions where all her newfound physical strength

would be useless.

Hermione nodded, then glanced to the east. At once she went to the side of the roof and sat down, her feet dangling over the rooftop ledge. Harry went to her side and sat down too, sitting crosslegged and further back of the roof-edge.

In the distance, a brilliant tinge of red was rising above the hills to the east of Hogwarts.

Watching the tip of the sunrise made Harry feel better, somehow. So long as the Sun was in the sky, things were still all right on some level, like his having not yet destroyed the Sun.

“So,” Hermione said. Her voice rose a bit. “Speaking of the future, Harry. I had time to think about a lot of things while I was waiting in St. Mungo’s, and… maybe it’s silly of me, but there’s a question I still want to know the answer to. Do you remember the last thing we talked about together? Before, I mean?”

“What?” Harry said blankly.

“Oh…” Hermione said. “It was two months ago for you… I guess you don’t recall, then.”

And Harry remembered.

“Don’t panic!” Hermione said, as a sort of strangled half-gurgle came from Harry’s throat. “I promise no matter what you say, I won’t burst into tears and run away and get eaten by a troll again! I know it’s been less than two days for me, but I think that dying has made a lot of things I used to fret about seem much less important compared to what I’ve been through!”