Harry Potter and the Way of Reason

Whoosh.tick.Sizzle.Ding.grunt.pop.Slap.ring bell.doodle.puff.Jingle.Puff.beep.boom.crackling.Whizzing.Hiss.Hoo hoo.Woohoo.

During Charms class on Monday, Professor Flitwick silently handed Harry a folded parchment, which said to ask Harry to talk to the headmaster at his convenience, in a way that would not be noticed, Especially without Draco Malfoy and Professor Quirrell noticing.The one-time password to pass Gargoyle is "Fuss Osprey".At the edge of the note was an artistic ink portrait of Professor Flitwick looking at him sternly, blinking now and then; at the bottom was a sentence with three lines under it: Don't Get in Trouble.

So Harry finished Transfiguration, studied with Hermione, ate dinner, talked to his lieutenants, and finally, after the clock struck nine, he donned the Invisibility Cloak and retreated to 6 p.m. , dragged wearily towards the gargoyle, climbed up the spiral staircase, stepped into the wooden door, walked into the room full of trivial gadgets, and saw the figure of the headmaster with a silver beard.

This time, Dumbledore looked serious, his usual smile gone; and his pajamas had changed to a darker, duller purple than usual.

"Thank you for coming, Harry," said the Headmaster.The old wizard stood up from his throne and began to pace slowly among the strange devices in the room, "First of all, do you have the notes from yesterday's meeting with Lucius Malfoy with you?"

"Notes?" Harry blurted out.

"Of course you will write it down..." The voice of the old wizard gradually trailed off.

Harry was rather embarrassed.Yes, if you're thinking about a cryptic conversation full of metaphors you don't understand, obviously you want to write it down before you forget it so you can figure it out after the fact up.

"Well," said the principal, "then I will speak from memory."

Harry tried his best to recite embarrassingly, and it was almost halfway through when it occurred to him that it would be unwise to tell the possibly crazy headmaster everything, at least he shouldn't say it without thinking, but then he Come to think of it, Lucius must be a bad guy and Dumbledore's enemy, so it might be a good idea to tell him, and now that Harry has already started talking, it's too late to think about it...

Harry ended his reminiscence honestly.

Dumbledore's expression became more and more indifferent as Harry narrated, and at the end, his expression looked very old, and the atmosphere became serious.

"Then," said Dumbledore, "I advise you to do your best not to harm the heir of the Malfoy family. I will do the same." The Headmaster frowned, tapping silently with his fingers on the surface of an inky black board. Engraved on it is the word "Relier" [1]. "And I think it would be extremely wise for you to avoid all communication with Lord Malfoy afterwards."

"Did you really cut off the owl he gave me?" said Harry.

The Headmaster stared at Harry for a long moment before nodding reluctantly.

For some reason, Harry wasn't as angry as he should have felt.Or maybe it was just because Harry found it easier to understand the Headmaster's point of view now.Even Harry understood why Dumbledore didn't want him dealing with Lucius Malfoy; it didn't seem like a sinister move.

Unlike the headmaster's blackmail of Zabini... This is just Zabini's one-sided story, and Zabini is quite unreliable. In fact, if Zabini doesn't tell this story, he will get the greatest sympathy from Professor Quirrell , that's puzzling.

"Then if—I'm not against it, I understand what you're thinking—" said Harry, "you go ahead and intercept my owls, but tell me who sent me the letter, is that all right?"

"I'm afraid I've stopped a lot of owls delivering your letters," said Dumbledore gravely. "You're a celebrity, Harry, and if I don't return them you'll get dozens of letters a day. Some are from abroad."

"That," said Harry, starting to feel a little exasperated now, "seems a little too much—"

"Many of those letters," said the old wizard quietly, "asked you for things you could not give. Of course I didn't read them, but returned them to the sender as undelivered letters. But I know , because I get letters like that too. You're too young, Harry, to have your heart broken six times a morning before breakfast."

Harry stared down at his shoes.He should have insisted on reading the letters and making his own judgement, but… there was a little voice inside him called common sense that was screaming loudly now.

"Thank you," Harry whispered.

"I invite you here for another reason," said the old wizard, "I want to ask you about your unique talents."

"Transfiguration?" Harry asked, surprised and flattered.

"No, not that particular talent," said Dumbledore. "Tell me, Harry, if you let a Dementor into Hogwarts, what evil could you do?"

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It all started with Professor Quirrell's request—or rather, his request—to test his students' abilities with real Dementors after learning how to say and cast the Patronus Charm.

"Professor Quirrell can't cast the Patronus Charm himself," said Dumbledore, as he paced slowly among the installations in the room. He offered to inform me of the fact that he wanted to be a student of the Patronus Charm; if I didn't want to, he could pay for it himself. I was very touched. But now he insists on bringing in a Dementor Strange--"

"Headmaster," said Harry calmly, "Professor Quirrell is a great believer in the effectiveness of practical tests under real combat conditions. It is entirely his style to wish to bring in a real dementor."

The Headmaster gave Harry a strange look.

"His style?" asked the old wizard.

"I mean," said Harry, "it's exactly the same as Professor Quirrell's usual behavior..." Harry's voice trailed off.Why did he say that?

The principal nodded. "So you feel the same way I do; it's an excuse. A very plausible excuse, admittedly; more plausible than you may realize. Often, when actual dementors are present, those who appear to cast Wizards who do not cast the Patronus Charm can successfully cast a full physical Patronus form, often without even a single flash of light. Why this is so no one knows; but it is."

Harry frowned. "Then I really don't understand why you're wondering—"

The headmaster spread his hands helplessly. "Harry, the Defense Professor asked me to bring the darkest creature in the world into the gates of Hogwarts. Of course I would be suspicious." The headmaster sighed, "but the dementor will be locked in a powerful cage." , monitored, guarded, and I'll be watching it all the time myself—I can't think of anything going on. But maybe it's just not happening to me. So I'm asking you."

Harry stared at the headmaster with his mouth open, too shocked to even feel happy.

"Me?" Harry said.

"Yeah," Dumbledore smiled, "I've tried my best to guess at my enemies, to contain their evil thoughts, to predict their dark thoughts. But I would never have dreamed of grinding a Hufflepuff's bones into a weapon." .”

Had Harry never been able to make them forget about it?

"Headmaster," said Harry wearily, "I know that doesn't sound good, but I'm serious: I'm not evil, I'm just very creative—"

"I didn't say you were evil," said Dumbledore sternly. "Some people say that to understand evil is to be evil; You can never understand love without giving up evil. I guess you can read the psychology of dark wizards in your own way better than I can, and still understand love. So, Harry," the headmaster looked at him intently, "if you It's Professor Quirrell, after you tricked me into letting a dementor into Hogwarts, what evil can you do?"

"Wait a minute," said Harry, and shuffled, somewhat dazedly, to the chair opposite the Headmaster's desk, and sat down.This time the chair was wide and comfortable, not a wooden stool. Harry felt as if he had sunk into the chair, and his whole body was enveloped.

Dumbledore was asking him to outwit Professor Quirrell.

First: Harry prefers Professor Quirrell to Dumbledore.

Second: Assuming that the defense professor is indeed planning some conspiracy, under this premise, Harry should help the headmaster prevent it from happening.

third……

"Headmaster," said Harry, "even if Professor Quirrell is planning something, I'm not sure I can think more than he does. He's far more sophisticated than I am."

The old wizard shook his head, though he was smiling, somehow serious. "You underestimate yourself."

This was the first time anyone had said that to Harry.

"I still remember," the old wizard continued, "a young man, also in this office, calmly confronted the head of Slytherin House and blackmailed his headmaster in order to protect his classmates. I believe that this The young man is smarter than Professor Quirrell, smarter than Lucius Malfoy, and he's going to grow up to be a match for Voldemort himself. He's the one I want to consult."

Suppressing the chill the name gave him, Harry frowned thoughtfully at the Headmaster.

How much does he really know...?

The Headmaster had seen Harry at his darkest, when he was at his deepest.Harry remembered what it looked like: after being invisible and reversing time, he had seen himself challenging the older Slytherins in the past; no the same.Of course the headmaster would have noticed that there was something odd about the boy in his office...

And Dumbledore came to the conclusion that his lovable little hero was as clever and cunning as his nemesis, the Dark Lord.

That's not a big deal, considering the Dark Lord puts the visible Dark Mark on all his servants' left arms, and slaughtered everyone in the monastery that taught him the martial arts he wanted to learn.

And the scheming is comparable to that of Professor Quirrell, that is a completely different problem.

But obviously, the headmaster won't be satisfied unless Harry reveals his cold and dark side and comes up with some amazing-sounding tricks... It's best not to really hinder Professor Quirrell from teaching Defense...

Of course, Harry was definitely looking into his dark side and thinking from that perspective, just to be honest and just in case.

"Tell me," said Harry, "about how the dementors will be brought in, how they will be guarded, and all that."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, and then the old wizard spoke.

The dementors will be sent into the Hogwarts grounds by a team of three Aurors, all three of whom are familiar to the headmaster, and all of them are able to cast physical Patronuses.They will meet Dumbledore at the Hogwarts boundary, and Dumbledore will allow the dementors to pass through the Hogwarts security system—

Harry asked if the permission was permanent or temporary - whether someone would be able to bring the same Dementor in again the next day.

The teleportation is temporary (the principal nodded in agreement when he answered), and then continued to explain: the dementor will be kept in a cage made of solid titanium rods, not deformed, but actually made of forging ;over time, the presence of the dementors will corrode metal to dust, but not in a day.The students waited safely behind the dementors and entered in order, with two physical Patronuses standing in front of the students at all times, maintained by two of the three Aurors.Dumbledore would stand by the Dementor's cage with his Patronus and wait.When a student approaches a Dementor, Dumbledore will dispel his Patronus and the student will attempt to cast their own Patronus; if they fail, Dumbledore will re-summon his own before the student takes any permanent damage. patron saint.Former dueling champion Professor Flitwick also makes an appearance near the students, just for an extra layer of security.

"Why are you the only one guarding the Dementors?" said Harry. "I mean, shouldn't you add another Auror—"

The principal shook his head. "Every time I dispel the Patronuses, they will be repeatedly exposed to the dementor's influence, and they can't take it."

And if for some reason Dumbledore's Patronus fails to cast while a student is still near the Dementor, the third Auror will cast a physical Patronus and drive it to guard the student...

Harry thought and thought, but couldn't find a single loophole in security.

So Harry took a deep breath, sank deeper into the armchair, closed his eyes, and thought:

"So...five points? No, let's give Ravenclaw ten points for talking back."

This time, the chill came on more slowly and forcedly, and Harry hadn't called out much of his dark side lately...

Harry had to replay the Potions class in his head until his blood became deadly crystal clear.

Then he thought of dementors.

Things are obvious.

"Dementors are a front," said Harry.There was a clear chill in his voice, which was what Dumbledore wanted, and expected. "A big and obvious threat, but one that's straightforward and easy to defend against. So while your full attention is on the dementors, the real conspiracy is going on elsewhere."

Dumbledore stared at Harry for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Yes..." said the Headmaster, "and I do believe I know what the cover is for if Professor Quirrell has evil intentions... Thank you, Harry."

The Headmaster was still staring at Harry, with a strange look in his old eyes.

"What?" Harry asked slightly annoyed.The chill still lingered in his blood.

"I have one more question for this young man," said the Headmaster. "I've been asking myself for a long time, but I can't figure it out. Why?" There was a hint of pain in his voice. "Why would someone purposely turn themselves into a monster? Why do evil for evil's sake? Why does Voldemort appear?"

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Whoosh, whoop, tick; ding, pop, snap...

Harry stared at the Headmaster in surprise.

"How would I know?" said Harry. "Just because I'm a hero or something, I'm supposed to magically understand the Dark Lord?"

"Yes!" said Dumbledore, "my greatest enemy is Grindelwald, and I know him all too well. He is my dark mirror image, and if I give in to temptation, I believe that I am a good man and therefore always right I could easily have been a man like him if he had been. For the greater good, that was his watchword; and he really believed it himself, even when he was tearing apart all of Europe like a wounded beast .And he was finally defeated by me. But after him, came another Voldemort, who wanted to destroy everything I protected in England." Dumbledore's voice began to clearly write pain, and his expression was also exposed. "He's committed far worse crimes than Grindelwald's worst, horror for horror's sake. I've sacrificed everything to stop him for a while, and I still don't understand why! Why, Harry Why did he do it? He was never my old enemy, but your old enemy, so if you have any guesses, Harry, please tell me! Why?"

Harry stared at his hands.The truth was, Harry hadn't studied the Dark Lord systematically yet, and he couldn't figure it out right now.Somehow, that didn't seem to be the answer the Headmaster wanted to hear. "Maybe too many dark rituals? At first he thought he would only do it once, but this sacrificed part of his good side, which made him hesitate to perform other dark rituals, so under a positive feedback loop he carried out performed more and more rituals, until at last it became a monstrosity of immense power—”

"No!" the Headmaster's voice began to grow distressed. "I don't believe it, Harry! There must be some other reason than that!"

Why?It occurred to Harry, but he didn't say it, because apparently the headmaster's universe was a story with a certain plot, and big tragedies shouldn't happen unless there were equally huge, important reasons. "I'm sorry, Headmaster. The Dark Lord doesn't seem very much like my dark mirror image, not at all. I don't see the slightest attraction in pinning the skins of Yemi Webb's family to the editorial wall. my place."

"Have you absolutely nothing to share?" asked Dumbledore.The old wizard's voice was pleading, almost begging.

Evil will always appear, Harry thought, and it meant nothing, and contained no lesson.Might teach us not to be bad?The Dark Lord could just be a selfish bastard who didn't care who he hurt, or a fool who made stupid mistakes that could have been avoided but just snowballed.There is no destiny behind the evils of this world; if Hitler had entered the School of Architecture, as he wished, the history of the whole of Europe would have been completely rewritten; if we lived in a universe where bad things happen for a reason, these Things never happened in the first place.

Obviously, these were not what the headmaster wanted to hear.

The old wizard was still looking at Harry through a delicate object that seemed to be solidified smoke, those old, expecting eyes filled with painful desperation.

Well, it's not that hard to sound smart, in fact, it's much easier than it is, because you don't have to say anything shocking or come up with new ideas.You just let the pattern-matching software in your head do this set of platitudes, using whatever "deep wisdom" you've stored up before.

"Headmaster," said Harry seriously, "I'd rather not define myself by my enemies."

Somehow, even between these swishes and ticks, there was a silence.

That sentence was a little too deep for what Harry was trying to convey.

"You might be really bright, Harry..." the Headmaster said slowly, "I do wish... I could define myself by my friends." The pain in his voice deepened.

Harry searched frantically in his mind for any profound wisdom to say to soften the unexpected impact—

"Or it may be," Harry said slowly, "that enemies make Gryffindors what friends make Hufflepuffs and ambitions make Slytherins. And what I do know is that, in each generation, there has always been Puzzles make scientists."

"The fate you have imposed on my House is terrible, Harry," said the Headmaster, still pained in his voice. "From what you have said, I do believe that my enemies have made me to a great extent."

Harry looked at his hands in his lap.Perhaps with the lead already, he should stop there.

"But you've answered my question," said Dumbledore more softly, as if talking to himself, "I should have realized that would be the key to a Slytherin. Because of his ambition, all because of his Ambition; I know that, I just don't know why..." For a moment Dumbledore just stared blankly into the distance; then he sat up straight and his eyes seemed to refocus on Harry.

"And you, Harry," said the Headmaster, "do you define yourself as a scientist?" There was surprise in his voice, and mild disapproval.

"You don't like science?" Harry said impatiently.He had expected that Dumbledore would like Muggle things.

"It's useful for those who don't have a wand, I suppose," Dumbledore frowned, "but it seems an odd thing to define yourself by. Is science as important as love? And kindness?" What about friendship? Is it science that makes you like Minerva McGonagall? Is it science that makes you care about Hermione Granger? Is it science that makes you try to light the heart of Draco Malfoy? ?"

You know, sadly, you probably thought you'd just uttered some overwhelmingly intelligent argument.

Now, how to embellish an answer in this form so that it sounds very intelligent too...

"You're not a Ravenclaw," Harry said calmly and solemnly, "so it may not occur to you that respecting and spending your life searching for the truth is a noble act."

The principal raised his eyebrows.Then he sighed: "How did you become so wise at such a young age...?" The old wizard said sadly, "Maybe this will be your wealth."

Just to impress some old wizard who thinks too much of himself, Harry thought.Dumbledore was genuinely a bit disappointed that he was so gullible; not that Harry was lying, but Dumbledore seemed too impressed by Harry's ability to whitewash his words to sound esoteric, rather than Richard Feynman's. [2] did, describing his wisdom in plain English...

"Love is more important than wisdom," said Harry, just to test the limits of Dumbledore's tolerance for clichéd responses that were purely pattern-matched, devoid of any detailed analysis, and obviously thoughtless.

The headmaster nodded solemnly, and then said, "Indeed."

Harry stood up from his chair and stretched.Well, then, I'd better go out and love something, that's bound to help me defeat the Dark Lord.And the next time you ask me for an opinion, I'll give you a hug—

"You helped me a lot today, Harry," said the Headmaster, "so I have one last question for the young man."

well.

"Tell me, Harry," said the Headmaster (and now his voice sounded just bewildered, though there was still a gleam of pain in his eyes), "why are Dark wizards so afraid of death?"

"Uh," said Harry, "I'm sorry, but I'm on the side of the Dark wizards on this one."

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Whoosh, hiss, jingle; grunt, clap, gulp—

"What?" said Dumbledore.

"Death is bad," Harry said, giving up his pretensions in order to be able to communicate clearly, "very bad. Extremely bad. Fearing death is like being afraid of a huge monster with poisonous teeth. It's actually very Makes sense, and the fact that it doesn't prove that you have a psychological problem."

The principal stared at him as if he had suddenly turned into a cat.

"Well," said Harry, "let me put it this way. Do you want to die? Because if you do, there's this Muggle thing called the Suicide Prevention Line—"

"When that time comes," said the old wizard quietly, "before then, no. I never wished for a quick end, but neither did I resist death when it came."

Harry frowned. "It sounds like your desire to survive is not strong, Principal!"

"Harry..." The voice of the old wizard began to sound a little helpless; he paced around, unaware that his silver-white beard had floated into a goldfish bowl, and a touch of green slowly climbed up. "I thought maybe I didn't make my point. Dark wizards have no desire to live, they fear death. Instead of seeking the sun, they flee at night into moonless, starless, infinitely dark caves of their own making." The Grotto. They longed not for life, but for eternity; they were so obsessed with it that they sacrificed their souls! Do you want to live forever, Harry?"

"Yes, and so do you," said Harry, "I want to live another day. Tomorrow I will want to live another day. So by induction on positive integers, I want to live forever. If you If you don't want to die, it means you want to live forever. If you don't want to live forever, it means you want to die. You have to choose between the two... I didn't make it clear, did I."

The two cultures stare at each other, separated by a vast gulf of incommensurability【3】.

"I've lived 110 years," said the old wizard softly (taking out his beard soaked in the fish tank, shaking it to shake off the color), "I've seen and done many, many things, There are so many things in it that I wish I had never seen or done. Yet I don't regret living, and watching my students grow up is an enduring joy. But I don't want to live When even that joy is gone! What will you do after being immortal, Harry?"

Harry took a deep breath and said, "Meet all the interesting people in the world, read all the good books and write better than them, celebrate my first grandson's tenth birthday on the moon, Celebrating the 4th birthday of my first cloud grandson on the rings of Saturn, learning the deepest and ultimate laws of nature, understanding the nature of consciousness, seeking why everything existed in the first place, visiting other planets, discovering aliens, creating Alien life, after we explored the entire galaxy, we made a pact with everyone to have a party on the other side of it, with all the other people who were born on old earth to watch the sun finally go out, and, I used to worry I couldn't find a way to escape from this universe before it was exhausted with negentropy [[-]], but now I have more hope, because I have discovered that the so-called laws of physics are only optional guiding routes."

"I don't understand most of it," said Dumbledore, "but I must ask, do you really desire these things so desperately, or do you imagine them just to imagine yourself constantly fleeing death Don’t you just feel bored when the time comes?”

"Life isn't an endless list to finish and die," said Harry gravely. "It's life, and you just have to live it. If I don't do those things, it's because I find them." There are better things to do."

Dumbledore sighed.His fingers tapped on a clock; when the fingers touched the clock, the numbers became indecipherable handwriting, and several hands flashed here and there. "If I live to be one hundred and fifty," said the old wizard, "I don't think I would mind. But two hundred is too much."

"Yeah, um," said Harry, his voice dry.He thought of his mum and dad, and their life spans—if Harry didn't do something about it, "I think, Headmaster, if you come from a place It might be too early to die at the age of 80, as tragic as, say, [-]." Harry struggled with the last few words.

"Perhaps," said the old wizard calmly, "I don't want to die before my friends, nor live after they're all gone. The worst time is when the one you love the most goes before you , while others are still alive, for them you must stay..." Dumbledore stared at Harry, his expression gradually becoming sad, "When that time comes, Harry, don't be too sad for me; I will Moving on to our next great adventure with those long missed."

"Oh!" Harry suddenly realized, "You believe in an afterlife. I thought wizards had no faith?"

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doodle.beep.boom.

"How can you not believe it?" said the Headmaster, looking utterly shocked. "Harry, you're a wizard! You've seen ghosts!"

"Ghosts," Harry said, without a wave in his voice, "you mean things like those portraits, which retain the memories and actions of life, without consciousness or life; Accidentally imprinted into surrounding material—”

"I've heard the theory," said the Headmaster, his voice sharpening, "and it's been repeated by some wizards. These people mistake cynicism for wisdom, and think that despising others is elevating themselves. That's what I've heard in 110 years. One of the silliest ideas I've ever had! Yes, ghosts don't learn or grow because this is not where they belong! Souls are supposed to move on, there's no life for them here! And what is the Veil if there are no ghosts ? What is the resurrection stone?"

"Well," said Harry, trying to keep his voice calm, "I'll hear your arguments to the end, because that's what a scientist would do. But first, Headmaster, let me tell you a little story." Harry's voice trembled a little, "You know, when I got here, when I got off that train from King's Cross, I don't mean yesterday, but back in September, until I left Before getting off the train, Headmaster, I've never seen a ghost. I never expected ghosts. So when I saw them, Headmaster, I did a really stupid thing. I took it for granted. I, I I thought there was an afterlife, I thought no one really died, I thought everyone lost by humans was fine after all, I thought wizards could talk to the dead and summon them with the right spells, Wizards can do it, I thought I could meet my parents who died for me, tell them I heard about their sacrifices, I've started calling them my mother and father—"

"Harry," Dumbledore whispered.The old wizard's eyes sparkled.He took a step closer to him across the office—

"Then," Harry snapped, his voice filled with anger, cold anger, for being so stupid to such a universe, to himself, "I asked Hermione, and she said they were just afterimages, because the wizard's Death is imprinted in the stone of the castle like the outlines on the walls of Hiroshima. And I should have known! I should have known without asking! I should not have believed, even for 30 seconds! Because if people had souls , then there should be no such thing as brain damage, if your soul can continue to speak when your whole brain is gone, how can damage to the left hemisphere of the brain deprive you of the ability to speak? Professor Greg, when she told me my parents died, she didn't act like they had just gone on a long trip to another country, like they emigrated to Australia in the days when there were only sailing ships; if people really knew that death was just Go somewhere else, they'll behave like that, if they had solid evidence of an afterlife instead of making up something to comfort themselves, that would change everything, it doesn't matter what anyone loses in the war, it would Kind of sad, but not scary! And I've seen people in the wizarding world behave differently! So I should have known better! And that's when I understood