Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality (102 page)

“Then why,” Albus said, and now there was no humor at all in his voice, “when I planned to retrieve Harry immediately after his arrival in Diagon Alley, did I find that this would result in paradox?”

Minerva sank further back into her chair, dropped her left elbow onto the hard uncushioned armrest, leaned her head into her hand, and shut her eyes in despair.

There was a narrowly circulated proverb to the effect that only one Auror in thirty was qualified to investigate cases involving Time-Turners; and that of those few, the half who weren’t
already
insane, soon would be.

“So you suspect,” Severus’s voice was saying, “that Potter went from Diagon Alley to Azkaban, then looped back to Diagon Alley afterward to be picked up by us -”

“Precisely,” said Albus’s voice. “Though it is also possible that Voldemort or his servants watched to make sure Harry did arrive in Diagon Alley, before they began their attempt on Azkaban. And that they had someone with a Time-Turner who would send back the message of their success, to trigger the abduction. Indeed, it was my suspicion of this possibility that caused me to dispatch you and Minerva on your own mission, before I myself went to Azkaban. I thought then that their breakout would fail, but if retrieving Harry Potter meant observing the fact of their eventual failure, then I myself could not have gone to Azkaban after I had interacted with him, for Azkaban’s future cannot touch its past. When, in Azkaban, I received no report from you or Minerva, nor from Flitwick whom I told to try contacting you, I knew that your interaction with Harry Potter had been an interaction with Azkaban’s future, meaning that someone was sending messages through Time -”

Then Albus’s voice stopped.

“But Headmaster,” said Severus, “
you
came back from Azkaban’s future and interacted with us…”

The Potions Master’s voice trailed off.

“But Severus, if I had
received
reports from you and Minerva of Harry’s safety, I would not, in the first place, have gone backward in time to -”

“Headmaster, I think we must draw diagrams for this.”

“I agree, Severus.”

There was the sound of parchment being spread on a table, and then quills scratching, and more arguing.

Minerva sat in her chair, head resting in her hand, eyes shut.

There was a story she’d once heard about a criminal who had possessed a Time-Turner which the Department of Mysteries had sealed to him, in a case of extremely bad judgment as to who needed one; and there had been an Auror assigned to track down this unknown time-criminal, who had also been given a Time-Turner; and the story ended with both of them in St. Mungo’s ward for Total Unrecoverable Nutcases.

Minerva sat there with her eyes shut, trying not to listen, trying not to think about it, and trying not to go insane.

After awhile, when the argument seemed to have wound down, she said aloud, “Mr. Potter’s Time-Turner is restricted to the hours of nine PM through midnight. Was the shell tampered with, Albus?”

“Not to my most discerning Charms,” said Albus. “But the shells are new things; and to defeat the Unspeakables’ precautions and leave no trace of the defeat… might
not
be impossible.”

She opened her eyes, and saw Severus and the Headmaster staring intently at a parchment covered with tangled squiggles that would have no doubt driven her mad to comprehend.

“Have you come to any
conclusions?
” Minerva said. “And please don’t tell me how you arrived at them.”

Severus and the Headmaster looked at each other, then turned to look at her.

“We have concluded,” the Headmaster said gravely, “that either Harry was involved or he was not; that either Voldemort has access to a Time-Turner or he does not; and that regardless of what could have happened within Azkaban, nobody would have visited the Little Hangleton graveyard during the period Moody has already watched over it within my own past.”

“In short,” Severus drawled, “we know nothing, dear Minerva; though it seems at least
likely
that another Time-Turner was involved, somehow. My own suspicion is that Potter has been bribed, tricked, or threatened into conveying messages backward in time, perhaps even regarding this very prison break. I shall not make the obvious suggestion as to who is pulling his strings. But I suggest that at nine o’ clock tonight, we test whether Potter is able to travel the full six hours backward to three o’ clock, to see if he has yet used his Time-Turner.”

“That seems wise to do in any case,” said Dumbledore. “See that done, Minerva, and tell Harry to stop in my office at his convenience, afterward.”

“But you still suspect Harry of direct involvement in the prison break itself?” Minerva said.

“Possible but unlikely,” said Severus, at the same time Albus said, “Yes.”

Minerva pinched the bridge of her nose, took a deep breath, let it out. “Albus, Severus, what possible
reason
has Mr. Potter to do such a thing!”

“None that I can think of,” said Albus, “but it remains that Harry’s magics alone, of all the means known to me, might have -”

“Hold,” said Severus. All expression vanished from his face. “A thought occurs to me, I must check -” The Potions Master seized a pinch of Floo powder, strode across the room toward the fireplace - Albus hastily waved his wand to light it - and then in a flare of green flame, and the words “Slytherin Head of House office”, Severus was gone.

She and Albus looked at each other and both shrugged; and then Albus turned back to studying the parchment.

It was only a few minutes later that Severus spun back out of the Floo, brushing traces of ash from himself.

“Well,” said the Potions Master. Again the expressionless face. “I am afraid that Mr. Potter does have a motive.”

“Speak!” said Albus.

“I found Lesath Lestrange in the Slytherin common room, studying,” Severus said. “He was not reluctant to meet my eyes. And it seems that Mr. Lestrange did not like to think of his parents in Azkaban, in the cold and the darkness, with the Dementors sucking away their life, hurting every second of every day, and he told Mr. Potter so in as many words, and begged him to get them out. Since, you see, Mr. Lestrange had heard that the Boy-Who-Lived could do anything.”

She and Albus exchanged glances.

“Severus,” Minerva said, “
surely…
even
Harry
… has more common sense than
that…
”

Her voice trailed off.

“Mr. Potter thinks he is God,” Severus said without expression, “and Lesath Lestrange fell to his knees before him in a heartfelt cry of prayer.”

Minerva stared at Severus, feeling sick to her stomach. She had studied Muggle religion - it was the most common reason for needing to Memory-Charm the parents of Muggleborns - and she knew enough to understand what Severus had just said.

“In any case,” said the Potions Master. “I looked within Mr. Lestrange to see if he knew anything of his mother’s escape. He has heard nothing. But the instant he learns, he will conclude that the person responsible was Harry Potter.”

“I see…” Albus said slowly. “Thank you, Severus. That is good news.”

“
Good news?
” Minerva burst out.

Albus looked at her, his face as expressionless as Severus’s, now; and she remembered, with a shock, that Albus’s own - “It is the best reason I can possibly imagine for removing Bellatrix from Azkaban,” Albus said quietly. “And if it is
not
Harry, let us recall, then it is certainly Voldemort himself making his first moves. But let us not be hasty in judgment while there is much we do not yet know, but soon will.”

Albus once more stood up from behind his desk, strode to the fireplace still alight, cast in another pinch of green powder, and stuck his head into the flames. “Department of Magical Law Enforcement,” he said, “Director’s office.”

After a moment, the voice of Madam Bones came through clear and sharp, “What is it, Albus? I am somewhat busy.”

“Amelia,” said Albus, “I beg of you to share any discoveries you have made concerning this matter.”

There was a pause. “Oh,” said the cold voice of Madam Bones from the blazing fire, “and is that a two-way road then, Albus?”

“It may be,” the old wizard said calmly.

“If any Auror dies of your reticence, old meddler, I will hold you responsible in full measure.”

“I understand, Amelia,” Albus said, “but I have no wish to spark needless alarm and incredulity -”

“
Bellatrix Black
has escaped from
Azkaban!
What alarm or incredulity do you think I will call
needless,
in the face of that?”

“I may call on you to remember those words,” said the old wizard into the green flames. “For if I learn that my fears are not needless, I
will
tell you. Now, Amelia, I beg you, if you have learned anything whatsoever upon this matter, please share it.”

There was another pause, and then Madam Bones’s voice said, “I have information which I learned four hours into the future, Albus. Do you still want it?”

Albus paused -

(weighing, Minerva knew, the possibility that he might want to go back more than two hours from this instant; for you couldn’t send information further back in time than six hours, not through any chain of Time-Turners)

- and finally said, “Yes, please.”

“We had a lucky break,” said Madam Bones’s voice, “one of the Aurors who witnessed the escape was a Muggleborn, and she told us that the Flying-Fire spell, as we were calling it, might be no spell at all, but a Muggle artifact.”

Like a punch in the stomach, that was how it felt, and the sickness in Minerva’s belly redoubled. Anyone who’d watched a Chaos Legion battle knew whose hand that showed…

Madam Bones’s voice continued. “We brought in Arthur Weasley from Misuse of Muggle Artifacts - he knows more about Muggle artifacts than any wizard alive - and gave him the descriptions from the Aurors on the scene, and he cracked it. It was a Muggle artifact called a rocker, and they call it that because you’d have to be off your rocker to ride one. Just six years ago one of their rockers blew up, killed hundreds of Muggles in a flash and almost set fire to the Moon. Weasley says that rockers use a special kind of science called opposite reaction, so the plan is to develop a jinx which will prevent that science from working around Azkaban.”

“Thank you, Amelia,” Albus said gravely. “Is that everything?”

“I’ll check if we have anything from six hours forward,” said the voice of Madam Bones, “if so they wouldn’t have told me, but I’ll have them tell you. Do
you
have anything you want to tell me, Albus? Which of those two possibilities is it looking like?”

“Not yet, Amelia,” Albus said, “but I may have word for you soon.”

He straightened up from the fire, then, which faded back to ordinary yellow flames. Every minute of the old wizard’s years, every natural second since his birth and every second which Time-Turning had added, all of that plus a few extra decades for stress, was visible on his lined face.

“Severus?” the old wizard said. “What was it actually?”

“A rocket,” said the half-blood Potions Master, who had grown up in the Muggle town of Spinner’s End. “One of the most impressive Muggle technologies.”

“How likely is
Harry
to know such arts?” said Minerva.

Severus drawled, “Oh, a boy like Mr. Potter knows
all
about rockets; that, dear Minerva, is a certainty. You must remember that things are done differently in the Muggle world.” Severus frowned. “But rockets
are
dangerous, and expensive…”

“Harry has stolen and hidden an unknown amount of money from his Gringotts vault, perhaps thousands of Galleons,” said the Headmaster, and then, to their twin stares, “That was
not
in my plan, but I made the mistake of sending the Defense Professor to supervise Harry’s withdrawal of five Galleons for Christmas presents…” The Headmaster shrugged. “Yes, I agree, sheer folly in retrospect, let us continue.”

Minerva quietly thudded her head a few times against the headrest of her chair.

“Nonetheless, Headmaster,” Severus said. “Just because the Death Eaters never used Muggle artifacts in the first war, that does not mean
he
is ignorant. Rockets fell on Britain as weapons, in the Muggle side of Grindelwald’s war. If he spent the summers of those years in a Muggle orphanage, as you told us, Headmaster… then he, too, has heard of rockets. And if he has been listening to reports of Mr. Potter and his mock battles using Muggle artifacts, he would certainly learn his enemy’s strengths and try to redouble them himself. That is
just
how he thinks; any power he sees he will try to take for his own.”

The old wizard was standing stock still, utterly motionless, even the hairs of his beard frozen in place like solid wires; and the thought came to Minerva, as frightening as any thought she’d ever had, that Albus Dumbledore was rooted to the spot in horror.

“Severus,” Albus Dumbledore said, and his voice almost cracked, “do you realize what you are saying? If Harry Potter and Voldemort fight their war with Muggle weapons there will be nothing left of the world but fire!”

“
What?
” said Minerva. She had heard of guns, of course, but they weren’t
that
dangerous to an experienced witch -

Severus spoke as though she weren’t in the room. “Then perhaps, Headmaster, he is sending a deliberate warning to Harry Potter of exactly that; saying that any attack with Muggle weapons will be met with retaliation in kind. Command Mr. Potter to cease his use of Muggle technology in his battles; that will show him the message is received… and not give him any more ideas.” Severus frowned. “Though, come to think of it, Mr. Malfoy - and of course Miss Granger - well, on second thought a blanket prohibition on technology seems wiser -”

The old wizard pressed both his hands to his forehead, and from his lips came an unsteady voice, “I begin to
hope
that it is Harry behind this escape… oh, Merlin defend us all, what have I done, what have I done, what will become of the world?”