Harry Potter and the Way of Reason

J.K. Rowling is watching you.Did you feel her gaze?She's reading your mind with her Rowling ray.

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"Based on his environment, unless there is supernatural power, his moral standards will be the same as yours."

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The Mork's Store is a chic, even cute little shop, tucked away behind a greengrocer's shop behind the Magic Gloves on a side street off Diagon Alley.Disappointingly, the owner is not a wrinkled, wizened old woman, but just a nervous-looking young woman in a faded yellow gown.She is now holding a super QX31 Mok bag in her hand. Its selling point is an automatic expansion pocket and an undetectable expansion magic: you can put very large things in it, of course the total capacity is still limited of.

Harry insisted on coming here right away, right away - as long as he could without arousing Professor McGonagall's suspicions.Harry has something that must be put in the bag right away.It wasn't the bag of Galleons that Professor McGonagall had allowed him to take out of Gringotts, but the handful he'd snatched up and stuffed in his pocket after he'd fallen on the pile of gold coins.The fall had been an accident, but Harry was never one to pass up chances...in fact, it was really a spur-of-the-moment thing.He kept carrying the bag of legal Galleons near his trouser pocket after that, to pretend that the jingling was coming from the bag of legal Galleons.

The problem now is how to sneak the other coins into the mok bag without getting caught.These gold coins belonged to him in the first place, but he also stole them—self-stealing?Steal your own things?

Harry looked up and looked away from the Super QX31 Mok bag on the counter. "Can I try it for a while? Just to make sure, um, it works every time?" He opened his eyes wide, putting on a playful expression of a little boy.

As expected, after Harry tossed the coin bag into the pouch ten times, reached in, whispered "gold bag" and took it out again, Professor McGonagall walked away to look at the rest of the store. The shopkeeper also turned his head to pay attention to her.

With his left hand Harry put the coin pouch into the Mokpocket; with his right hand clutching a fistful of gold coins, he took it out of his trouser pocket, put it in the Mokpocket, let go, and (whispering "pocket of coins") put it in again. Take out the gold coin bag from before.Then the coin pouch was back in his left hand, it was back in the pouch, Harry's right hand was back in his trouser pocket...

Professor McGonagall looked back at him once, but Harry didn't pause or shudder, and she didn't seem to notice.But it's actually hard to say, and you can't underestimate the sense of humor of some adults.After doing this three times, his work was done, and Harry reckoned he had stolen about thirty Galleons from himself.

Harry wiped the sweat from his brow with his hand, and let out a long breath. "I'll just buy this."

After paying fifteen Galleons (the bag cost twice as much as the wand, apparently), Harry pushed the door out of the shop with Professor McGonagall in his Super QX31 Mork Bag.The sight of the shop door turning into a hand waving them goodbye made Harry feel a little queasy.

At this time, an unfortunate thing happened...

"Are you really Harry Potter?" whispered the old man, as a huge tear rolled down his cheek. "You wouldn't lie about that, would you? Rumors say you didn't escape the death spell, so we never heard from you after that."

...It seems that Professor McGonagall's disguise technique is not very effective in front of more experienced wizards.

When Professor McGonagall heard someone ask "Harry Potter?", he grabbed Harry by the shoulder and pulled him to a side street.The old man followed, but fortunately no one else heard.

Harry considered the question for a moment.Is he really Harry Potter? "I only know what other people tell me," Harry said. "I don't remember being born." His hand brushed his forehead. "This scar has been around for as long as I can remember, and my name has been Harry Potter for as long as I can remember. But," Harry mused, "if there is enough motivation to pull off a plot , it's not hard to find any orphan to raise and make him believe that he is Harry Potter—"

Professor McGonagall ran a hand across his cheek in exasperation. "You and your father, James, look almost exactly the same when they came to Hogwarts in the first year. And with your character, I can testify that you are related to that scourge of Gryffindor."

"She may have been involved in the plot," Harry pointed out.

"No," said the old man tremblingly. "She's right. Your eyes are exactly like your mother's."

"Hmm," Harry frowned. "I thought you might have been involved in—"

"Enough, Mr. Potter."

The old man raised a hand as if to touch Harry, but put it down again. "I'm just glad you're alive," he whispered. "Thank you, Harry Potter. Thank you for what you did... Now I won't bother you."

The sound of his crutches slowly went away, out of the alley, and onto the main street of Diagon Alley.

The professor looked around, her expression was tense and scary.Harry automatically followed and looked around.But this alley looks like there is nothing but fallen leaves, and at the intersection leading to Diagon Alley, only pedestrians passing by in a hurry can be seen.

Finally, Professor McGonagall's expression relaxed. "That was not good," she whispered. "I know you're not used to this, Mr Potter, but people do care about you. Please be kind to them."

Harry looked at his shoes. "They shouldn't have done this," he said with a hint of bitterness. "I mean, care about me."

"You saved them from 'the man'," said Professor McGonagall. "How could they not care?"

Harry looked at the serious face under the witch's pointed hat and sighed. "If I say it's fundamental attribution error, you don't know what I mean."

"I really don't understand," replied the professor in her perfect Scottish accent, "but please explain, Mr Potter, if you will."

"Hmm..." said Harry, trying to describe this little bit of Muggle science. "Let's say you go to work and you see your co-worker kicking the table to get angry. You think, 'Why is this guy so grumpy.' And your co-worker is thinking about how someone knocked him against the wall on the way to work, and is angry at him. He yelled and yelled. In his opinion, anyone who encounters this kind of thing will get angry. When we observe other people, we like to use character to explain other people's behavior, but when we look at ourselves, we feel that our behavior Circumstances determine. Everyone's story makes sense to them, but when we look at others we don't see all the history behind them. We only notice them in a certain scene and don't know What would they do in other scenarios. The so-called fundamental attribution error is that we tend to explain behaviors that are actually caused by the environment and the background by the characteristics that are permanently unchanged.” This theory has some very beautiful experiments. Argued, though Harry didn't mention those details.

The witch's eyebrows were raised under her hat. "I think I understand..." Professor McGonagall said slowly. "But what does that have to do with you?"

Harry kicked the wall so hard his feet hurt. "People think I saved them from 'the one' because I'm some kind of great warrior of light."

"He who has the power to destroy the Dark Lord..." murmured the witch, a strange sarcasm in her voice.

"That's right," said Harry, battling with anger and frustration, "as if I defeated the Dark Lord because I possessed some permanent trait that would destroy him. I was only fifteen months old! I don't know what's going on, but I suspect it's accidental circumstance, as the saying goes. Obviously it has nothing to do with my personality. People don't care about me, they don't really notice me at all, they just want to be with someone Poor explaining handshake." Harry paused, looking at Professor McGonagall. "Do you know what actually happened?"

"I thought of a possibility..." Professor McGonagall said. "I mean, after meeting you."

"What is possible?"

"You defeated the Dark Lord because you were worse than him, and you escaped the curse of death because you were worse than death."

"Ha. Ha. Ha." Harry continued to kick the wall hard.

Professor McGonagall laughed softly. "I'll take you to Madam Malkin's tailor shop next. I'm afraid your Muggle clothes are too eye-catching."

On the way they met two more men who came to bless him.

The storefront of Mrs. Malkin's clothing store is completely lacklustre, with ordinary red brick walls and ordinary black robes displayed in the glass windows.These robes don't shine, don't change, don't spin, don't shoot strange rays into your shirt to tickle you.Looking in from the window, only ordinary black robes can be seen.The store door is wide open, as if to tell everyone that there are no secrets here, and there is nothing to hide.

"I'll be away for a few minutes while you try on," said Professor McGonagall. "Yes, Mr. Potter?"

Harry nodded.He hated buying clothes terribly, and this old witch thought like him, and he could totally understand it.

Professor McGonagall's wand came out of its sleeve and tapped Harry lightly on the head. "You can't deceive Madam Malkin's senses when you're trying on clothes, so I removed the spell from the make-up just now."

"Er..." said Harry.That did worry him a little; he wasn't used to being "Harry Potter" yet.

"Mrs. Malkin and I were classmates at Hogwarts," said McGonagall. "Even then, she was one of the calmest people I've ever met. She wouldn't make a fuss if 'the man' himself walked into her shop." Professor McGonagall's voice expressed nostalgia and deep emotion. approval. "Madam Malkin won't bother you, nor will anyone else bother you."

"Where are you going?" Harry asked. "Just in case, you know, if something actually happens."

Professor McGonagall gave Harry a stern look. "I'll go there," she said, pointing to a building across the street with a wooden wine barrel sign, "to get a drink, I really need this right now. You're only allowed to try on clothes, no other tricks .I'll be back with you shortly, and I hope Madam Malkin's shop hasn't collapsed, or caught fire in any sense, by then."

Mrs. Malkin, a busy old lady, said nothing when she saw the scar on Harry's forehead.One of her assistants seemed to want to say something, but she took a hard look and swallowed it back.Madam Malkin pulled out a set of lively twisting cloth strips, as if they were rulers, and got to work: examining her art carrier.

Next to Harry was a pale little boy with a pointed chin and super cool light blond hair who seemed to be almost done trying.Another of Malgin's assistants was helping the fair-haired boy try on a checkerboard robe; every now and then she tapped his robe with her wand, and it loosened or tightened.

"Hello," said the little boy. "Are you going to Hogwarts too?"

Harry could already see where the conversation was headed, and this moment of frustration made him decide he couldn't take it anymore.

"Good God," Harry whispered, "no way." He opened his eyes wide. "Your ... name, sir?"

"Draco Malfoy," said Draco Malfoy, looking confused.

"It's really you! Draco Malfoy. I—I never expected such an honor, sir." Harry wanted tears to come out of his eyes, but he couldn't.Others usually start crying by this time.

"Oh," Draco said, sounding a little confused.Then a smug smile spread across his mouth. "It's nice to meet someone who knows their place."

One of the assistants, the one who seemed to recognize Harry earlier, let out a stifled cough.

Harry continued talking rapidly. "I'm so happy to see you, Mr. Malfoy. I'm so happy that I can't describe it. We are classmates in the same year at Hogwarts! My heart is going to be drunk."

oops.The last sentence sounded a little weird, like flirting with Draco.

"I am also very happy to receive the respect that matches the fame of the Malfoy family," replied the other boy, with a smile on his face, the kind that a supreme king bestows on the humblest subject, if The poor but honest words of that subject.

Hey...damn, Harry couldn't think of what to say next.Well, everybody wants to shake Harry Potter's hand, so - "Sir, will you please deign to shake my hand when I'm done fitting? That way I don't have anything else to ask for today, no , and more than that, this month, in fact, my entire life will be fulfilled."

The pale blond boy stared at him. "What have you done for the Malfoy family to deserve such a privilege?"

Oh, next time someone wants to shake my hand, I'm definitely going to try this on him.Harry bowed his head. "No, no, sir, I understand. I'm sorry for making such a request. In fact, it would be an honor for me to shine your shoes."

"That's right," said another boy, his stern face softened a little. "Tell me, which house do you think you're going to go to? I'm definitely going to Slytherin, like my dad Lucius. For you, I guess Hufflepuff, or house-elves The college might as well."

Harry grinned sheepishly. "Professor McGonagall said that of all the people she ever met and heard about, I was the most Ravenclaw, to such an extent that Rowena Ravenclaw herself would have Suggested that I get out and about more, don't know what that means, and I'd no doubt go to Ravenclaw House, unless that hat screamed so loudly that no one could hear what it was saying, end of quote."

"Wow," said Draco Malfoy, sounding admiring.He sighed somewhat wistfully. "Your flattery is great, at least that's how I feel about it - you'd be fine in Slytherin too. My dad is usually the only one with such slavish flattery. Now I'm off to Hogwarts." , I hope the other Slytherins do the same to me...so, I guess that's a good sign."

Harry coughed. "Actually, sorry, I actually have no idea who you are."

"Oh come on!" said the boy in a tone of intense disappointment. "Then what were you doing?" Malfoy's eyes widened in sudden suspicion. "Also, how could you not know about the Malfoy family? What kind of clothes are you wearing? Are your parents Muggles?"

"Two of my parents passed away," Harry said.His heart prickled.Putting it this way - "My other two parents were Muggles and they raised me."

"What?" Draco said. "Who are you?"

"Harry Potter, nice to meet you."

"Harry Potter?" Draco gasped. "That Harry—" He stopped suddenly.

There was a brief silence.

Then, with renewed enthusiasm, "Harry Potter? That Harry Potter? Oh my God, I've always wanted to know you!"

Draco's assistant made a choked noise, but she continued to work, raising Draco's arms and carefully removing his checkerboard robes.

"Shut up," Harry advised.

"Can I get your autograph? No, wait, I want to take a photo with you first!"

"Shut up shut up shut up."

"I'm so happy to see you!"

"Go to hell."

"But you are Harry Potter, the great savior of the wizarding world! The hero of all, Harry Potter! I've always wanted to grow up to be like you, to be—"

Draco cut off the words abruptly, the expression on his face frozen in absolute horror.

Tall, silver-haired, the black robe of extremely fine texture reveals a cold elegance.In one hand he held a cane with a silver handle, endowed with the air of a deadly weapon simply because it was held in that hand.The eyes of this man looked at the room with the coolness of an executioner, and for him killing was not a painful thing, not even a desirable taboo, but just as normal and natural as breathing.

It was such a man who walked in from the open door at this moment.

"Draco," the man whispered angrily, "what did you say?"

In a split second of sympathetic panic, Harry hatched a rescue plan.

"Lucius Malfoy!" Harry Potter gasped. "That Lucius Malfoy?"

One of Madam Malkin's assistants had to turn around to face the wall.

Cold, murderous eyes stared at him. "Harry Potter."

"I'm so, so honored to meet you!"

The sullen eyes widened, and deadly menace gave way to a look of shock.

"Your son told me all about you," Harry gushed, barely knowing what he was saying, just keeping talking as fast as he could. "But of course I knew you before, everyone knew you, the great Lucius Malfoy! The pride of the most respected Slytherin house, I always wanted to get into Slytherin house, because I I heard that you studied there when you were a child—”

"What did you say, Mr. Potter?" There was a scream outside the shop, and Professor McGonagall rushed in a second later.

The expression on her face was so horrifying that Harry's mouth fell open and he was left speechless.

"Professor McGonagall!" Draco yelled. "Is it really you? I've heard a lot about you from my dad, and I've been trying to get a place in Gryffindor so I can—"

"What?" shouted Lucius Malfoy and Professor McGonagall together.They stood side by side, turned their heads to look at each other at the same time, and then backed away in unison, as if performing a pas de deux.

Then there was confusion, and Lucius grabbed Draco and dragged him out of the store.

A moment of silence followed.

Professor McGonagall held a small wine glass in his left hand and tilted it in a hurry. The red wine slowly flowed out and formed a small pool on the ground.

Professor McGonagall strode into the shop until he reached Madam Malkin.

"Mrs. Malkin," said Professor McGonagall, her voice calm. "What happened here just now?"

Madam Malkin looked at her in silence for four seconds, then began to laugh wildly.She collapsed against the wall, out of breath from laughing, which made it impossible for her two assistants, one of whom fell on all fours to the ground, giggling hysterically.

Professor McGonagall turned slowly to look at Harry, his expression icy. "I've left you here alone for six minutes. Only six minutes, Mr. Potter, look at the clock."

"I was just kidding," Harry protested amidst the hysterical laughter around him.

"Draco Malfoy said in front of his father that he wanted to go to Gryffindor House! This is not a joke!" Professor McGonagall paused and took a breath. "Where does the phrase 'trying on clothes' make you think it sounds like 'please cast a confusion spell on the entire universe'?"

"In the circumstances, it was reasonable for him to say that—"

"No. No need to explain. I don't want to know what happened here just now, ever. Whatever dark power you have, it's contagious, and I don't want to be poor Draco Malfoy, poor Mrs. Malkin, or her poor two assistants."

Harry sighed.Obviously, Professor McGonagall is not in the mood to listen to his reasonable explanation now.He looked at Mrs. Malkin, who was still panting against the wall, at Mrs. Malkin's two assistants, who had fallen to the ground laughing now, and finally looked down at himself, who still had a ruler wrapped around him.

"I haven't finished trying on clothes yet," Harry said kindly. "Why don't you go for another drink?"

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1. Basic attribution error: baike.baidu/view/1473778.htm