Harry Potter and the Way of Reason

Aftermath: Albus Dumbledore and—

The old wizard sat alone at the table, among the sounds in the headmaster's office, surrounded by countless unnoticed instruments; clothes to wear.Holding a quill in wrinkled hands, he was scribbling on a formal-looking piece of parchment.Even if you could be there and see his wrinkled face, it's hard to infer anything about this man, whose expressions are as incomprehensible as those enigmatic instruments.You might notice that the face looks a little sad, a little tired, but that's how Albus Dumbledore always looked when he was alone.

There were only scattered ashes in the fireplace of the Floo network, and there was no sign of a flame. This magic channel is now closed tightly, as if it does not exist anymore.On the physical plane, the oaken door to the office is closed and locked; outside the door, the never-ending staircase remains motionless; at the bottom, the gargoyles guarding the entrance to the staircase do not move, their pseudo-life disappears and only the solid stone remained.

Just then, the quill was halfway through a word, in the middle of a letter—

With frightful rapidity the old wizard sprang to his feet, dropped his half-written quill, and let it fall on the parchment; he turned like lightning toward the oak gate, and his yellow robes flew, and a spear of terrible The wand of power jumped into his hand—

Just as suddenly, the old wizard stopped, stopping his movements just as the wand appeared.

A hand knocked on the oak door, three times.

Now, with more deliberate speed, the dreaded wand returned to the dueling holster under the old wizard's sleeve.The old man took a few steps forward, posed a more formal pose, and calmed down his expression.On the table, the quill had moved to the side of the parchment, appearing to have been set down carefully rather than hastily; the parchment was turned over, revealing a blank space.

Driven by the silence of his will, the oak door swung open.

Green eyes glared at him, hard as stone.

"I admit I'm shocked by you, Harry," said the old wizard quietly. "The invisibility cloak keeps you from my notice, but I don't feel my puppet move and the stairs don't spin. How did you get here?"

The boy took his time and walked into the office step by step until the door closed smoothly behind him. "I can go wherever I want, and I don't need to ask anyone's permission," said the boy.His voice seemed calm; perhaps too calm. "I showed up at your office because I decided to come, so to hell with the code. Headmaster Dumbledore, if you think I'm staying at this school because I'm a prisoner here, you're dead wrong. I just haven't chosen to leave just yet. Now, keep this in mind, and answer my question: Why did you order your agent, Professor Snape, to break the agreement we made in this office, which is Say, he can't abuse students in the fourth grade or below?"

The old wizard stared long at the angry young hero.Then, with a slow movement that would not alert the boy, he opened a double drawer of the desk with wrinkled hands, took out a piece of parchment, and placed it on the desk. "Fourteen," said the old wizard, "that's not the total number of letters sent by the owls last night. Only to those who hold the seat of the Wizengamot, or are of great wealth, or have allied themselves with your enemies The number of letters from the family. And for Robert Gargson, all three are true; his father, the Lord Gargson, was a Death Eater, and his grandfather was Dee's wand. I don't know what it says, but I can guess. Don't you understand, Harry Potter? Every time Hermione Granger wins what you call a victory, Slater Lin's threat to her has increased, time and time again. But now Slytherin has won, easy and safe, without violence and without permanent damage. They've already won, don't have to fight her again Already..." The old wizard sighed, "This is my original plan. My original hope. If the defense professor didn't stand up and intervene, it could have been successful. Now this dispute is going to be brought up to the school board, Severus would have superficially outmaneuvered the Defense Professor; but it would feel different to the Slytherins, not the clean ending that would satisfy them."

The boy took a few steps into the room, tilting his head to look at the half-moon glasses; for some reason, the boy seemed to be looking down at the principal instead of up. "You say this Lord Gargson is a Death Eater?" said the boy softly. "Very well. Then his life is settled, and I won't have any moral problems with whatever he does to him—" "

"Harry!"

The boy's voice was as clear as ice, frozen from the purest unpolluted spring. "You seem to think that the light should live in fear of the dark. I say it should be the other way around. I'd be inclined not to kill Lord Gargson, even if he's a Death Eater. But just discuss it with the Defense Professor for an hour, It's enough to come up with some clever way to bankrupt him, or to have him exiled outside of Magical Britain. I think that's enough to make our case."

"I admit," the old wizard said slowly, "I really never thought of destroying a family that lasted 500 years and fighting a Death Eater because of the disputes in the corridors of Hogwarts. Harry." The elderly wizard raised a finger and pushed up the half-moon glasses, which had slipped a little from his nose due to his sudden movement. "I bet Miss Granger couldn't think of it either, and neither did Professor McGonagall, nor Fred and George."

The boy shrugged. "It's not about the corridor," said the boy. "It's about getting justice for his past crimes, and I'll only do it if Gagson does it first. After all, I don't want people to be unconditionally afraid." Me. I want them to know that being neutral is safe with me, and poking me with a stick is extremely dangerous." The boy smiled, but there was no smile in his eyes. Advertise that I will teach the true meaning of Chaos to those who continue to fight me, but those who do not provoke me are safe."

"No," said the old wizard, his voice deepening to reveal his true age and strength, "no, Harry, this must not be done. You don't know what fighting means yet, and the enemy What happens when you meet in the middle of the night. So you are like a little boy, dreaming to teach your enemies to fear you. I am very worried, because although you are too young, you may already have enough power to turn a part of your dream into reality .There isn't a fork in that road that doesn't lead to darkness, Harry, not one. It's the unmistakable Dark Lord's way."

The boy hesitated, then his eyes flicked to the empty golden platform where Fox sometimes roosted.Few could have noticed the gesture, but the old wizard took full notice of him.

"Well, I don't teach them to be afraid of me," said the boy.His voice was still harsh, but not so cold anymore. "I still don't think you should let children get hurt just because you're worried about what Lord Gargson might do. It's all your job to protect them. If Lord Gargson does try to interfere with you, stop him at all costs." .Give me full command of my coffers, and I can take care of any fallout from the ban on bullying at Hogwarts, be it Lord Gargson or whoever else."

The old wizard shook his head slowly. "You seem to think, Harry, that I can wipe out all the enemies if I use all my strength. You are wrong. Lucius Malfoy controls Minister Fudge, and through the Daily Prophet, all over Britain, His control over the trustees is only a hair away from throwing me out of Hogwarts. Amelia Bones and Barty Crouch are allies, but if we act recklessly, they will know Even they will go away. You live in a world that is more fragile than you think, and we have to be very careful. The previous wizarding wars never ended, Harry, they just continued in another form; Black The king is asleep, and it's up to Lucius Malfoy to temporarily move his pawns. Do you think Lucius Malfoy will easily allow you to capture one of his pawns?"

The boy smiled, and there was a trace of coldness in his expression. "Well, I will find a way to set up a game, so that Lord Gargson looks like he has betrayed his own faction."

"Harry—"

"Difficulty means you need to be creative, Headmaster. It doesn't mean you can abandon the children you are responsible for protecting. Let the light win, and if it causes trouble—" the boy shrugged, "let the light win again. "

"If phoenixes could talk, they would talk like you," said the old wizard, "but you don't understand the price of phoenixes."

The sound of the last two words was so clear that it seemed to echo in the office, and then there was a huge roar all around them.

Between an ancient shield on the wall and the coat rack of the Sorting Hat, the stone wall began to shift and become two stone pillars, with a gap in the middle, a passage, and a set of upward stone steps leading into the dark depths. place.

The old wizard turned and strode up the steps, then looked back to where Harry Potter stood. "Come here!" said the old wizard.There was no gleam in those blue eyes now. "Since you have reached the point where you do not hesitate to use violence uninvited, please go further."

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There were no handrails on the stone steps, and after walking a few steps, Harry drew his wand and cast the Lumos spell.The principal didn't turn his head back, nor looked down at the road, as if he had walked the stone steps so many times that he no longer needed to look with his eyes.

The boy knew he should be curious, or afraid, but his brain was running out of energy.He is trying his best to restrain himself, not to let the anger boiling in his heart vent more.

The stairs were short and went straight up without turning or turning.

At the top was a door of solid metal, which looked black in the blue light from Harry's wand, suggesting that the metal itself was either black or red.

Albus Dumbledore raised his long wand as if waving a sign, and spoke again in that strange voice that buzzed in Harry's ears as if burning into his memory Go: "Fate of the Phoenix."

The final door opened, and Harry followed Dumbledore through it.

The chamber inside, like the door leading to it, seemed to be made of black metal.The walls are black and the floor is black.The ceiling overhead was black, except for a white chain hanging from the ceiling, with a crystal ball that shone bright silver, as if imitating the light of a Patronus Charm, but you could still tell it wasn't real.

The room was displayed on black metal pedestals, each bearing a moving photograph, or a column half-filled with a faintly glowing silver liquid, or a small souvenir; a charred silver necklace, a A squashed hat, a perfect gold wedding ring.There are three types on many pedestals, photos, silver liquid, and souvenirs.There were many wizard's wands on the pedestal, most of which were broken, burned, or the wood seemed to melt away for some reason.

That's when Harry realized what he'd seen, and his throat suddenly stopped; the rage inside him was smashed to pieces like a sledgehammer, perhaps the worst blow he'd ever suffered in his life.

"It's not all those who died in all my wars," said Albus Dumbledore.His back was turned to Harry, who could see only his curly white hair and yellow robes. "Not even most of them. Only my closest friends, and people who died from my worst decisions, have something here to commemorate them. Those who I regret and regret the most, this is their place."

Harry lost count of how many pedestals there were in the room.Maybe a hundred or so.The black metal room is large and apparently leaves room for a future pedestal.

Albus Dumbledore turned to face Harry, his deep blue eyes steely beneath his brows, but when he spoke his voice was calm. "You seem to be completely ignorant of the cost of the phoenix," said Albus Dumbledore quietly, "I suppose you are not an evil man, but are profoundly ignorant, and have no doubt of your ignorance; It used to be. But I never could hear Fox as clearly as you did that day. Maybe when my phoenix came to me, I was old and full of sorrow. About when to fight, if there is If there is anything I do not understand, please tell me this wisdom now." There was no anger in the old wizard's voice; yet there was an impact in these charred and shattered wands that made one fall from a broom It was so hard to breathe, they rested in the silvery light, glowing faintly. "Otherwise you can go, but in that case, I don't want to hear it anymore."

Harry didn't know what to say.There was nothing quite like it in his own life, and all words seemed lost.If he had looked, he might have found something to say, but he did not believe at that moment that words meant anything.You shouldn't be able to win any arguments among those who died because of your decisions, but even knowing about it, there's still nothing to say.Harry had no right to say anything.

Harry almost turned and walked away if it hadn't occurred to him that a part of Albus Dumbledore might be here forever, forever, no matter where he was.If you're standing in a place like this, you'd be willing to do anything, lose anything, just stop fighting.

A pedestal caught Harry's attention; the picture on it didn't move, smile or wave.It was a Muggle photo of a woman staring gravely at the camera, her brown hair braided, a common hairstyle among Muggles, but Harry had never seen a witch in that way. kind of hairstyle.There is a cylinder of silver liquid next to the photograph, but there are no souvenirs; no rings melted or wands broken.

Harry walked forward slowly and stood in front of the pedestal. "Who is she?" Harry said, feeling his voice sound strange.

"Her name was Tricia Glasswell," said Dumbledore, "the mother of a Muggle-born witch whose daughter was killed by Death Eaters. She turned out to be a detective for the Muggle Then began to inform the Order of the Phoenix about the Muggle government's information, until she—betrayed—fell into Voldemort's hands." The old wizard's voice choked up, "She died a painful death, Harry. .”

"Has she ever saved someone's life?" Harry asked.

"Yes," said the wizard quietly, "saved."

Harry lifted his gaze from the pedestal to look at Dumbledore. "Would the world be a better place if she hadn't fought?"

"No, no," said the old wizard.His voice was tired and sad.He looked even more hunched, as if closing himself off. "I get it, you still don't. I don't think you do until you—oh, Harry. Long, long ago, when I was not much older than you, I saw the real face of violence, and Its price. Filling the air with a deadly curse - for whatever reason - for whatever reason, Harry - is evil, sinful by its very nature, as horrific as a Dark Arts ritual. Violent Once started, will attack any life nearby like a Voldebat. I... hope you don't learn this the way I did, Harry."

Harry looked away from those blue eyes and looked down at the black metal floor.Clearly the Headmaster was trying to tell him something important; and Harry didn't think it was stupid either.

"Once upon a time there was a Muggle named Mohandas Gandhi," Harry said to the floor, "and he didn't think the Muggle British government should rule his country. He refused to fight. He convinced his whole country Not to fight. Instead he taught his people to go up to the British soldiers and let the soldiers knock them down without a fight and then the British couldn't take it anymore and we set his country free. I read this When it happened, I thought it was very beautiful, I think it is more noble than all the wars fought with guns and swords. They actually did it, and it really succeeded." Harry took another breath. "Only later, I found out that Gandhi told his people during World War II that if the Nazi army invaded their country, they should also resist non-violently. But the Nazis would just shoot everyone. Maybe Wens Don Churchill always felt there should be a better way, a smarter way, to win without hurting anyone; but he couldn't find one, so he had to fight." Harry looked up to see the Headmaster staring at him , "Winston Churchill was the man who tried to persuade the British government not to exchange Czechoslovakia for a peace treaty with Hitler,[1] he thought they should fight right away—"

"I remember the name, Harry," said Dumbledore.The old wizard's lips turned up slightly. "But, I must be honest, my dear Winston is by no means the kind of person who would feel a pang of conscience, not even after drinking a dozen hot whiskeys."

"The thing is," Harry said after a brief pause, he suddenly remembered who he was talking to, and felt like an ignorant, daring child going mad, who had no right to be in this room, right? Don't think Dumbledore asked any questions, and then he suppressed the feeling, "The point is, saying that violence is evil is not an answer. It doesn't tell you when to fight and when not to fight. It's A difficult question, and Gandhi refused to face it, and it made me lose some of my respect for him."

"So what's your answer, Harry?" asked Dumbledore quietly.

"One answer is that you should only use violence if you can stop it," said Harry. "You can't risk people's lives unless it's to save more people. That sounds good. The problem is, If a policeman sees a thief stealing something in a house, the policeman should stop the thief, even if the thief might resist and cause someone to be injured or even killed. Even if the thief just wants to steal some jewelry, the loss is nothing more than something. Because If there weren't even people who would bother thieves, there would be more and more thieves. Even if they were just stealing each time, it would be so bad for - the fabric of society -" Harry paused down.In this room, his thoughts were not as organized as they usually seemed.He should have been able to give a perfect logical proof based on game theory, or at least be able to see how to prove it, but he couldn't think of it.Hawks and Doves - "Can't you see that if bad people are willing to use violence to get what they want, and good people always back down because violence is too terrible to take the risk, then - that's not a good society , Headmaster! Aren't you aware of the effect of these acts of bullying on Hogwarts, and especially on Slytherin House?"

"It is war too terrible to risk," said the old wizard, "but it will come. Voldemort is returning. The black pieces are gathering. In this war, Severus is the most precious piece we have One. But our wicked Potions professor has to put on airs, as the saying goes. If the price Severus has to pay is hurting the children's feelings, just theirs, Harry," the old wizard's voice was very Softly, "You'd have to be terribly ignorant of war to think it's a bad deal. The hard decision isn't that, Harry. The hard decision is—this." The old wizard made no gesture.He just stood where he was, in the middle of all the pedestals.

"You shouldn't be Headmaster," Harry said through the burning of his throat, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but you shouldn't be Headmaster and at the same time lead a war. Hogwarts shouldn't be involved. "

"These children will survive," said the old wizard, his eyes tired and old, "but Voldemort will not. Don't you wonder, Harry, why Hogwarts children seldom talk about it?" And their parents? Because no matter where they are, there will always be students who have lost their mothers, or fathers, or both parents nearby, and may be able to hear their conversations. This is the legacy of Voldemort's last visit. ...nothing is worth starting this war a day earlier, or ending it a day later." The old wizard made a gesture this time, as if pointing at all the broken wands. "We don't fight for justice! We fight because we have to, we have no choice. This is our answer."

"Is that why you waited so long to face Grindelwald?"

Harry asked this question without thinking——

The blue eyes searched him sharply, and time seemed to freeze.

"Who told you that, Harry?" said the old wizard, "No, you don't need to answer. I already know." Dumbledore sighed, "Many people have asked me this question, and I always Avoid answering. But one day you must know the whole truth about this matter. Can you swear that you will not tell it to others until I allow you to tell it?"

Harry had wished he could have told Draco, but—"I swear," Harry said.

"Grindelwald possesses an ancient and terrible magic artifact," said Dumbledore. "As long as he holds that magic artifact, I cannot break his defenses. In our duel, I cannot win, only Could fight him till he fell; but for Fawkes I would have died after the duel, and Grindelwald would not have fallen as long as his Muggle allies maintained his strength with blood sacrifices. He was truly invincible at the time. No one should know about Grindelwald's terrible treasure. More to say. That's the whole reason, Harry. There's no moral in it, no wisdom. That's all."

Harry nodded slowly.That's not entirely unbelievable, by magical standards...

"Then," continued Dumbledore's voice, lowering his voice, as if talking to himself, "because I was the one who defeated him, when I offered not to kill him, they obeyed, although there were some successes. Thousands of men thirsted for his blood. He was imprisoned in Nurmengard, a prison he built, and he has remained there ever since. I didn't mean to kill him when I went to the duel, Harry. Because, You see, a long time ago, I tried to kill Grindelwald once, and...it was...that turned out to be...a mistake, Harry..." The old wizard held his long hair in both hands. A long, dark gray wand, staring at it as if it were a Muggle fabled crystal ball, a divination tool that could be used to find answers to questions. "At that point, I thought... I thought I should never kill people. And then Voldemort came."

The old wizard looked up at Harry again, and said in a hoarse voice, "He's not like Grindelwald, Harry. He has no humanity left. He must be destroyed. When the time comes, you cannot hesitate." .Of all creatures in this world, you must never have any mercy for him; when it is all over, you must forget this, forget what you have done, and start living again. Leave your anger to That time, only for that time."

There was silence in the office.

The silence lasted for a long, long time, and was finally interrupted by a question.

"Are there dementors in Nurmengard Prison?"

"What?" said the old wizard. "No! I wouldn't even do it to him—"

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The old wizard glared at the young boy, who straightened up, the expression on his face changed.

"That is," the boy said, as if talking to himself in an empty room, "everybody already knows how to imprison powerful Dark wizards without dementors. They know it's a known fact. "

"Harry...?"

"No," said the boy.He looked up, his eyes burning like green flames. "I don't accept your answer, Principal. Fox gave me a mission, and now I understand why Fox gave it to me instead of you. You are willing to accept the checks and balances of power and let the bad guys win. I don't accept it."

"That's not an answer either," said the old wizard; there was no hurt in his face, he had been trained long in hiding pain. "Refused to accept a thing doesn't change it. I'm starting to wonder now if you're too young to understand such things, Harry, even if you don't look like that; it's only in a child's fantasy that wins." In all battles, no evil is tolerated."

"That's why I can kill the dementors and you can't," said the boy, "because I believe that darkness can be broken."

The old wizard's breath caught in his throat.

"The cost of the phoenix is ​​not inevitable," the boy said. "It's not some deep balancing act inherent in the universe. It's just part of the problem, and you just haven't found a pretty solution yet."

The old wizard's lips parted, but no words came out.

Silver light fell on the shattered wand.

"Fawkes gave me a mission," the boy repeated, "and I'll do it, even if it takes smashing the entire Ministry of Magic. That's the missing part of your answer. You can't stop and say, oh, Well, it looks like I can't think of a way to stop the bullying at Hogwarts and let it go. You have to keep thinking about it until you figure out how to fix it. If it means having to destroy Lucius  All of Malfoy's schemes, there is no problem."

"And the real battle, against Voldemort?" said the old wizard in an unsteady voice. "What would you do to win that battle, Harry? Would you destroy the whole world? Even if one day you can have such power, you are not above the cost, and probably never will! And you are acting like this now, it is completely crazy!"

"I asked Professor Quirrell why he was laughing," said the boy in a steady voice, "after he awarded Hermione a hundred house points. Professor Quirrell said, this is not the exact words, but the basic meaning is this, that is He found it very funny that the great and good Albus Dumbledore would just sit there and do nothing while this poor innocent girl begged him, and he would be her defender. He said to me, When good and noble men have tied and tied themselves, they often do nothing; or, if they do, you can scarcely see any difference from what a bad man does. And if he pleases , but he can help innocent girls all he wants because he is not a good person. I think about this every time I think about whether I want to be a good person when I grow up."

The old wizard didn't show how much he was hit.Only the eyes were slightly dilated, betraying his disguise, and one had to look very closely to see it.

"Don't worry, Headmaster," said the boy, "I'm not mistaken. I know I should learn what virtue is from Hermione and Fox, not from Professor Quirrell or you. That's why I'm here. The real reason. Hermione's time is too precious to be wasted on labor services. Professor Snape must rescind the order, claiming that I blackmailed him."

After hesitating for a moment, the old wizard nodded, his silver beard fluttering slowly below. "It's not the best choice for her, Harry," said the old wizard, "but this labor service can be performed under the supervision of Professor Binns, and you and she can study together in his classroom. "

"So be it," the boy said, "I guess that's about all we can do together in the end. You can expect that if you continue to side with the bad guys on the surface, or let them win, I'll be Fox." No matter how much trouble it would cause me to do, I hope we all know that."

Without another word, the boy turned and left the room, through the open black metal door, and then, "Lumos!" his wand glowed.

The old wizard stood silent, silent among the ruins of a life his own had wrought.He raised his wrinkled hand and tremblingly reached for the half-moon glasses—

The boy stuck his head in again. "Could you please open the stairs, Headmaster? I'm too lazy to leave in the troublesome way I came here."

"Go, Harry Potter," said the old wizard, "the stairs will take you down."

(Some time later, an earlier version of Harry, who had been waiting beside the gargoyle in his invisibility cloak since nine o'clock at night, followed the vice-headmistress into the passage the gargoyle made for her, spinning Stands quietly behind her on the stairs to the top, then, while invisibly, turns the Time-Turner back three times.)

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Aftermath: Professor Quirrell and—

The Defense Professor waited in a shaded clearing, leaning casually against the gnarled gray trunk of a tall beech tree.It was the end of March, and the tree hadn't sprouted yet. Its trunk and crown looked like a pale hand stretching from the ground into the air, with a thousand fingers suddenly spread out.Around and above the Defense Professor, the branches are so dense that in early spring, when the trees are mostly green, you can barely see the sky from the ground.The web of branches crisscrosses each other