“What do you mean ‘bureaucratically impossible’?” said Harry James Potter-Evans-Verres.
“It just is,” said Mad-Eye Moody.
“Nothing ‘just is’,” Harry said, “Everything happens for a material reason. What precisely is preventing you from acquiring the permits?”
“I suspect an unfriendly nation-state is employing bureaucramancy against us,” Moody said.
“Bureaucramancy,” Harry said dryly.
Didn’t the Ministry of Magic understand how important this was? No, because Harry had declared the existence of the Sorcerer’s Stone to be top secret.
“Can’t we just build it without the permits?” Harry said.
“I hope you’re not insinuating that a trusted Auror like myself might allow expediency to outweigh accountability,” Moody said.
“As if you cared about accountability when you assassinated the Dark Lord of Berzerkistan,” said Harry.
“I can neither confirm nor deny whether I have ever set foot in Berzerkistan,” Moody said, “But if I had, I can assure you that I would not have broken a single British law within its sovereign borders.”
“What is the worst thing that could happen if we completed the Stone Citadel without proper authorization?” Harry asked.
“The end of the world,” Moody said. Harry flinched.
“What’s the worst thing that is net ‘likely’ to happen if we build this hospital without proper authorization?” Harry asked, “Will we forfeit a tax exemption or something?”
“You sound like a Dark Lord abusing his political power for the greater good,” Moody said.
“It’s just a zoning law!”
“The hospital will not be part of Hogwarts and will therefore be unprotected by its wards,” Moody said.
Britain had 1% of the planet’s magical population. It had 1% of the planet’s armies. Hogwarts was a fraction of that. If Harry Potter revealed his hospital to the world it could would catalyze an international crisis. When that day came, it would be to the Chief Warlock’s advantage if the Stone Citadel was located inside the Hogwarts wards.
Another three minutes and fifty-four seconds ticked by. Another human being died forever. At times of civilizational inadequacy—which was all the time—Harry Potter could empathize with Lord Voldemort’s pleasure at murdering his way through the Ministry bureaucracy.
There was a knock on the door. A dreamy first-year voice said “I’m looking for Harry Potter.”
“Harry James Potter-Evans-Verres is busy. He is trying to save and/or destroy the world and/or wizardkind,” Harry said, “If you make an appointment then he might get back to you in a few epochs.”
“How about Tom Riddle?” the voice said, “Does he know what astrolabes do?”
Luna was untrained in the Muggle arts. Muggle Studies Professor Burbage declared the astrolabe beyond her pay grade and referred Luna to Harry Potter. There was no “Harry Potter” on the Marauder’s Map so Luna went to “Harry Potter’s Office”. Tom Riddle answered the door.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mister Riddle,” Luna said.
Tom Riddle ushered Luna into Harry Potter’s office, shut the door and cast thirty security charms.
“Call me Harry Potter,” Tom Riddle said.
“Call me You-Know-Who,” Luna played along. It was a relief to pretend to have friends for a change.
“Hss hsssss hsss,” Tom Riddle said in Parseltongue.
“Hiss hiss hiss,” Luna said in not-Parseltongue. She held her index fingers down from her mouth like fangs and swayed her head like a snake.
“You’re not really You-Know-Who,” Tom Riddle said.
“You’re not really Harry Potter,” Luna showed him the map, “It says so right here.”
The 12-year-old boy banged his head against the wall. Just because you’ve won a battle doesn’t mean you’ve behaved optimally. Optimal behavior is when you extract maximum utility from your circumstances. He shouldn’t have been content to retrieve his belongings. He should have looted everything of value from the corpses of his fallen enemies. If he had done that then Bellatrix Lestrange would have been in Ministry custody, he would have possessed the Marauder’s Map and his identity would have been secure.
“What do you want?” the boy said.
“I want friends,” Luna said, “But right now I’ll settle for the Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw. I am at Harry Potter’s office because Professor Burbage told me he is an expert in modern Muggle technology.”
“I’ll tell you what an astrolabe is if you pretend I am Harry James Potter-Evans-Verres from now on.”
“Deal,” Luna said.
“An astrolabe is a handheld model of the universe,” Harry said, “What is the Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw?”
“A diadem is a crown,” Luna said, “Ravenclaw’s is said to make you smarter.”
Harry Potter had heard the term “intelligence explosion” before. If Rowena Ravenclaw could create a magical device that increased her intelligence then she would not have been content to stop there. She would have used the first diadem to make a second, superior one. Then she would have used the second diadem to make an even better third iteration. She might not have stopped until after she had gone full Singularity.
“On second thought,” Harry stuffed the Ministry zoning paperwork into his trunk, “Saving the world can wait. What can you tell me about this Lost Diadem?”
Announcement
The easiest way to keep updated on this story is to subscribe to my posts here on Less Wrong.
Last chapter, CitizenTen asked if I had any plans to post this story to fanfiction websites. I currently do not. You have my permission to copy this story in part or in its entirety to any website I am not active on (which, right now, includes every website on the Internet except lesswrong.com) provided:
You respect J.K. Rowling’s copyright. Harry Potter fanfiction must remain non-commercial, especially in the strict sense of traditional print publishing.
You include an attribution link back to the original story here on Less Wrong.
Luna Lovegood and the Chamber of Secrets—Part 5
“What do you mean ‘bureaucratically impossible’?” said Harry James Potter-Evans-Verres.
“It just is,” said Mad-Eye Moody.
“Nothing ‘just is’,” Harry said, “Everything happens for a material reason. What precisely is preventing you from acquiring the permits?”
“I suspect an unfriendly nation-state is employing bureaucramancy against us,” Moody said.
“Bureaucramancy,” Harry said dryly.
Didn’t the Ministry of Magic understand how important this was? No, because Harry had declared the existence of the Sorcerer’s Stone to be top secret.
“Can’t we just build it without the permits?” Harry said.
“I hope you’re not insinuating that a trusted Auror like myself might allow expediency to outweigh accountability,” Moody said.
“As if you cared about accountability when you assassinated the Dark Lord of Berzerkistan,” said Harry.
“I can neither confirm nor deny whether I have ever set foot in Berzerkistan,” Moody said, “But if I had, I can assure you that I would not have broken a single British law within its sovereign borders.”
“What is the worst thing that could happen if we completed the Stone Citadel without proper authorization?” Harry asked.
“The end of the world,” Moody said. Harry flinched.
“What’s the worst thing that is net ‘likely’ to happen if we build this hospital without proper authorization?” Harry asked, “Will we forfeit a tax exemption or something?”
“You sound like a Dark Lord abusing his political power for the greater good,” Moody said.
“It’s just a zoning law!”
“The hospital will not be part of Hogwarts and will therefore be unprotected by its wards,” Moody said.
Britain had 1% of the planet’s magical population. It had 1% of the planet’s armies. Hogwarts was a fraction of that. If Harry Potter revealed his hospital to the world it
couldwould catalyze an international crisis. When that day came, it would be to the Chief Warlock’s advantage if the Stone Citadel was located inside the Hogwarts wards.Another three minutes and fifty-four seconds ticked by. Another human being died forever. At times of civilizational inadequacy—which was all the time—Harry Potter could empathize with Lord Voldemort’s pleasure at murdering his way through the Ministry bureaucracy.
There was a knock on the door. A dreamy first-year voice said “I’m looking for Harry Potter.”
“Harry James Potter-Evans-Verres is busy. He is trying to save and/or destroy the world and/or wizardkind,” Harry said, “If you make an appointment then he might get back to you in a few epochs.”
“How about Tom Riddle?” the voice said, “Does he know what astrolabes do?”
Luna was untrained in the Muggle arts. Muggle Studies Professor Burbage declared the astrolabe beyond her pay grade and referred Luna to Harry Potter. There was no “Harry Potter” on the Marauder’s Map so Luna went to “Harry Potter’s Office”. Tom Riddle answered the door.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mister Riddle,” Luna said.
Tom Riddle ushered Luna into Harry Potter’s office, shut the door and cast thirty security charms.
“Call me Harry Potter,” Tom Riddle said.
“Call me You-Know-Who,” Luna played along. It was a relief to pretend to have friends for a change.
“Hss hsssss hsss,” Tom Riddle said in Parseltongue.
“Hiss hiss hiss,” Luna said in not-Parseltongue. She held her index fingers down from her mouth like fangs and swayed her head like a snake.
“You’re not really You-Know-Who,” Tom Riddle said.
“You’re not really Harry Potter,” Luna showed him the map, “It says so right here.”
The 12-year-old boy banged his head against the wall. Just because you’ve won a battle doesn’t mean you’ve behaved optimally. Optimal behavior is when you extract maximum utility from your circumstances. He shouldn’t have been content to retrieve his belongings. He should have looted everything of value from the corpses of his fallen enemies. If he had done that then Bellatrix Lestrange would have been in Ministry custody, he would have possessed the Marauder’s Map and his identity would have been secure.
“What do you want?” the boy said.
“I want friends,” Luna said, “But right now I’ll settle for the Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw. I am at Harry Potter’s office because Professor Burbage told me he is an expert in modern Muggle technology.”
“I’ll tell you what an astrolabe is if you pretend I am Harry James Potter-Evans-Verres from now on.”
“Deal,” Luna said.
“An astrolabe is a handheld model of the universe,” Harry said, “What is the Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw?”
“A diadem is a crown,” Luna said, “Ravenclaw’s is said to make you smarter.”
Harry Potter had heard the term “intelligence explosion” before. If Rowena Ravenclaw could create a magical device that increased her intelligence then she would not have been content to stop there. She would have used the first diadem to make a second, superior one. Then she would have used the second diadem to make an even better third iteration. She might not have stopped until after she had gone full Singularity.
“On second thought,” Harry stuffed the Ministry zoning paperwork into his trunk, “Saving the world can wait. What can you tell me about this Lost Diadem?”
Announcement
The easiest way to keep updated on this story is to subscribe to my posts here on Less Wrong.
Last chapter, CitizenTen asked if I had any plans to post this story to fanfiction websites. I currently do not. You have my permission to copy this story in part or in its entirety to any website I am not active on (which, right now, includes every website on the Internet except lesswrong.com) provided:
You respect J.K. Rowling’s copyright. Harry Potter fanfiction must remain non-commercial, especially in the strict sense of traditional print publishing.
You include an attribution link back to the original story here on Less Wrong.