"So." Harry reiterated. "All the members of both armies need to move into the safe zone. But we can't cast any magic once we're inside there, so the main questions are whether, firstly, Daphne's spell to get them into the Sanctuary at the same time will work, and secondly, whether we can communicate to the four of them the how to cast the spell. Which I am at a loss on both counts; I don't even know if they can use magic."

"Why wouldn't they be able to use magic? They're from Beauxbatons, they're not Squibs." Zabini interjected.

Harry had expected that someone would question this, and he had a response at the ready. "Because they don't have wands; I can only assume the professor has taken them away."

"So why don't we just give them one of ours?"

Crap.

Harry mentally kicked himself. He needed a reminder to start thinking three or four levels deep when simulating discussions. Unfortunately, unlike Draco, Harry did not have a tutor from the time he could start talking to teach him the fine art of lying through his teeth.

"Okay, give one to her, to Pinkie," Harry said, exasperated, and then quickly caught his mistake. "The pink one, I mean."

Luna volunteered and walked up to Pinkie Pie, handing over her wand. Pinkie nodded solemnly, and spoke in a thick, distinctly not-Pinkie accent, "My hovercraft is full of eels."

"The narwhal bacons at midnight," Luna responded, serenely.

"Wait, you can understand her?" Draco sputtered.

"Hmm? Oh, no. Not in the slightest." Luna smiled and stared off in the distance, twirling a lampshade that she was inexplicably carrying with her.

As a sidebar, Tracey Davis leaned over to Lavender Brown and whispered, "What is she even doing here? She doesn't even go to Hogwarts yet."

Lavender shrugged, "Madame Maxime granted her special disposition to participate. Overheard her talking to Professor Quirrell, something about needing a dotty character for comic relief, and then something or other about her having a such a big role in some kind of rolling cannon?"

At this point, Luna, who was clearly eavesdropping, hung the lampshade over her head and chimed in, "It doesn't at all sound like a cheap attempt at backpedaling to cover up a mistake in continuity."

Meanwhile, Pinkie was examining the wand curiously, holding it by the wrong end, testing its flexibility, and even trying to take a small nibble from it. "DO YOU want… Do you WANT… Do you want, to go back to my place, BOUNCY bouncy?"

"Right then." Draco shook his head. "Daphne, tell us again about the spell."

"Technically, it's a Class II Dark Spell, but no one ever really bothers with enforcing those classifications. It's designed to help thieves bypass magically locked doors. It teleports the target a few feet in a given direction."

"But crucially, it CAN be cast on multiple people simultaneously, correct?" Harry asked, partially to reassure himself.

"Of course." Daphne drew a pair of circles with her wand and spoke firmly, "Hocerat Triumphi!"

Harry and Draco both briefly glowed a dull blue, disappeared, and then immediately instantiated a few feet away past the barrier in a poof of orange light. Harry held his hands in front of himself, impressed.

Applejack, Rainbow Dash, and Fluttershy were watching intently. Applejack gestured and started speaking quickly to Pinkie Pie. "I'm glad you guys… skipped a class. We're having fun, aren't we?"

Rainbow Dash nodded in agreement. "I wanna play video games."

"We had a good conversation, knowwhatI'msayin'?" Applejack pointed to the barrier, then at Harry and Draco. She did a gesture to Pinkie Pie, pantomiming a rough approximation of Daphne's wand movement. "You! You're the ringleader here," she barked, and then let out a stream of gibberish, furiously sniffling as she explained something to Pinkie that was as comprehensible to everyone else watching as it was perfectly reasonable to Pinkie.

"Are you getting any of this?" Harry leaned over to Draco.

"Nope. I think she said something about 'getting in the fridge'? Anyway, it looks like she's understanding it. But, how are we going to teach them the incantation if we can't communicate with them? If they were from Durmstrang, there would be a good chance they knew the spell. But Beauxbatons isn't exactly famous for its acceptance of 'dark magic'."

The question was more or less answered for them as Pinkie worked her mouth around the unfamiliar words. "Hock-a-rat Tri-Umphrey."

A few students cheered in surprise, and Draco gaped at them, then turned, still open-mouthed, to Harry.

Harry just shrugged. "I'm kind of just learning to lean into it."

Seamus, who had been more silent than usual and wearing a stormy expression the entire time, finally spoke up. "You know, this all seems a bit too clever, this whole 'Everyone gets an Outstanding' plan. It's a bit cockamamie if you ask me. It's like the time my dad decided to spend his whole bonus at the tracks, told me mum he had a 'system' that was foolproof. Lost it all on three races."

Harry suddenly became acutely aware of the fact that Seamus was holding his wand, and Draco suddenly became acutely aware of several members of both Chaos Legion and Dragon Army shifting their robes in that telltale way of readying one's wand without making it obvious.

"Seamus, what you're experiencing is called the Semmelweis Effect. You're so used to the existing paradigm that you are reflexively rejecting evidence to the contrary."

"Don't condescend me. I did your anti-conformity training, just like the rest of Chaos Legion." Seamus spat.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Did you? You barely made a peep when you were supposed to be sneering! Face it, you expect things to be a certain way, and you don't like it when things don't meet those expectations."

Seamus muttered under his breath in reply, "I don't think Hermione would-"

Snap.

"HERMIONE-" Harry roared, "-wouldn't be DEAD if it weren't for you… you PUPPETS. You CHILDREN. If more than a handful of you had the guts to do anything besides what you've been told by an authority figure! Now just… just SHUT UP, and do what I say."

If the irony of that sentence occurred to anyone in the crowd, no one dared put a voice to it.

As they crossed the threshold of the Sanctuary and made their way back to the starting point, several students looked expectantly up at the scoreboard. They were puzzled to find that nothing had changed, that all their grades were still represented by hazy question marks.

They also saw Professor Quirrell sitting down on a wooden chair that almost looked like a throne on the dais in the clear. He had a vaguely annoyed expression on his face and was slowly clapping his hands sardonically.

Draco had a growing sense of apprehension in the pit of his stomach.

"Professor? The game is over." Harry said timidly, his final words being equal parts statement and question.

"Is it? It would seem that in your maddeningly endless quest to prove your own cleverness at the expense of all else, you failed to heed the rules. And worse still, you leveraged your position of authority to browbeat other students into accepting your own flawed interpretation. Mr. Finnegan was quite correct that I would not have allowed for such an obvious, elementary loophole in my final exam of all things."

Harry was dumbfounded, but he had at least enough sense to not even attempt an argument with the Professor when he was in this state. Although his voice was relatively calm, Harry could see that he was seething. He tested the waters, "What do you mean, Professor?"

The Professor repeated himself from before, "The game shall end in one of two conditions: when a team's Protectorates cross the bounds of the Sanctuary, or when the allotted time of two hours has elapsed. Both ending conditions come with certain consequences. Neither of those conditions has occurred. 'A team' implies the singular. The rules do not say, 'When one or more teams'. A team. A. One. There is a winner, and there is a loser. And your actions have seen to it now that there will be far more losers than winners

"You see, your friends," he gestured towards them with a half flourish, punctuated by a flick of his wrist, "From whom I have just now removed the Incantation of Babel, and can now understand what I am saying, are in a bit of a predicament. The only way for the game to end before the two-hour mark has elapsed, is for one of the two pairs to cross the threshold of the Sanctuary. The rules do not, incidentally, say anything as to which direction the crossing must occur. And yet, also as per the rules, at the moment they cross the threshold, any members of their team outside the bounds of the Sanctuary will forfeit the game."

"Including themselves…" Harry whispered.

"Yes, including themselves. Which put their team at quite a disadvantage… But then, what of the other team? The rules also happen to clearly state that whoever from the other team is within the Sanctuary at the time that their opponents' Protectorates cross the boundary, they will also forfeit the game. Now, of course, you can get around that by simply having the other team exit the boundary… The rest of the team, except for that team's Protectorates, of course. It's almost as if these awkward, circuitous rules were specifically designed to punish a student who would attempt to violate the spirit of the test."

Harry's mind was racing. It was questionable enough, drawing an arbitrary distinction between "a team" and "multiple teams". The sum of all integers greater than or equal to one is necessarily inclusive of the set of all integers equal to one. That said, he should have been tipped off by the unnecessary specificity of the rules. Arbitrariness was either the sign of a poorly designed system or a deliberate choice meant to avoid a particular outcome. Harry should have known that Professor Quirrell was not a poor game designer.

But then again…

"Professor, I have a question."

"I cannot promise to answer it, but either way, I would make it quick. The clock, as they say, is ticking."

Harry spoke quietly, in deference. "Will you be upset or angry if I act the part of the teacher toward you and teach a lesson? Even if I point out a mistake that is simple and obvious and makes you feel… stupid?"

"No," hissed Professor Quirrell. "Not if the lesson is true."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "You see, I think you have a blind spot around strategies that involve doing nice things for other people. To the point where it stops you from achieving your own values of self-interest. Perhaps you think… it's not your style, I suppose. In fact, that particular part of your self-image… May have cost you everything." Harry made eye contact and put hard emphasis on that last word.

He continued, "I asked you once when speaking of levels of anticipation, at what level did you play the game? Do you remember how you replied?"

"One level above you." The Professor replied, with a slight, twisted grin.

"Well… Somebody very wise once told me, sometimes the only winning move is not to play."

The Professor waited a moment as if expecting more than this. When nothing more came, he let out a slight, disappointed sigh. "I see. Very well, then. Make the choice of inaction, and see what that yields. Although I fail to see what your 'lesson' has taught me."

Harry shook his head. "That's not what I mean, and although I don't agree with your ambiguous wording and interpretation of the rules, I respect your right to dictate the terms of the game. But that's all it is: a game. This isn't life. Failure doesn't mean death. But, if I do fail here, it does mean that a large number of people who otherwise would have trusted my judgment and followed me at some point in the future, may now think twice. Which… now that I think about it, perhaps that was your intent."

The Professor gave a slight nod.

"So, if I were to do something nice for the rest of the students at a personal cost to myself, then, well… That, I think, would be the optimal strategy overall. For life."

The Professor narrowed his eyes, which momentarily flitted in the direction of a nearby banyan tree, tracking the movement of a fat blue jay which had dived down from the higher treeline comprised of the more mature trees. It was a rare momentary distraction which Harry barely noticed, but he said nothing.

"Casting magic inside the Sanctuary would forfeit the game… For one person. If I were to cast the same spell and transport the four of them outside the boundaries, then the game would be over for me. But it would give everyone else a second chance. So I can see that you were playing one level above me. But as such, I simply choose not to play at all."

Harry lifted his wand and pointed it towards Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, and Applejack. "I will make the sacrifice."

The Professor did not move, even when Harry was interrupted by a shout from near him.

"No!" Shouted Draco. "Harry, I will make the sacrifice!"

Hushed whispers fell across the crowd, and Harry stared, nonplussed. "I… no. This wasn't your idea. I should be the one who takes the fall."

Draco leaned in to whisper to Harry, "Do you really think that I, a Malfoy, could not recover from one failing grade?"

Plus, you get major brownie points just for volunteering yourself, even if I don't let you sacrifice yourself. Well played, Draco, well played.

"Draco, NO!" Pansy Parkinson shouted, dramatically. "Don't do it! I'll do it! I'll sacrifice myself for you, er, I mean, for everyone. Choose me, Draco! Let it be me!" She held her hands together over her heart but was quickly shoved out of the way by Millicent Bulstrode, who lifted a beefy hand into the air.

"It shouldn't be that twig! Pick me! Let me do it! I'll make the sacrifice!"

Ron Weasley, quite put out at the idea of a Slytherin being more brave and altruistic than a Gryffindor, shot up his hand without any real idea of what he was getting into. "No. I'll make the sacrifice!"

Immediately, a handful of other Gryffindor first years who didn't want to be outshone by Ron Weasley of all people, also stepped forward, declaring "I'll make the sacrifice!"

At this point, several Hufflepuffs were visibly chuffing at this display of blatant virtue signaling. After all, loyalty and friendship were the virtues of Hufflepuff, not fire-headed Gryffindorks. "Stand down, men. I shall make the sacrifice." Ernie Macmillan shouted, imperiously.

Pinkie Pie, who was thrilled by the display of her absurdity, clapped her hands together and squealed, jabbing her hand into the air. "I am Spartacus!" But she quickly put her hand down again after Rainbow Dash gave her a quick nudge to the ribs. Applejack, meanwhile, had her arms folded and was watching the proceedings silently and with apparent displeasure. Fluttershy, on the other hand, was barely paying attention, sitting on the grass near a small banyan sapling, mounding dirt around its roots.

"This is, I admit… unexpected." The Professor managed through gritted teeth. "I suggest you determine which of you will give up your grade for the year quickly, as the two hours approach quickly. And not only are you racing against time, but I can assure you I will spend the remaining minutes until the game ends reviewing the rules, looking for a way to disallow this display of ridiculousness."

As he spoke, he strolled across the dais and leaned against a modestly sized tree. He leaned against it and folded his arms, but then looked up, annoyed, at a rotund little bird that was perched near his elbow. With a hard thud, he whipped out his fist and sent the tiny creature flying. It collided into a nearby tree with a sickening crack and then tumbled lifelessly to the ground.

In the ensuing din of discussion, no one noticed Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash staring, open-mouthed, glancing at each other with extreme apprehension. Nor did they notice Applejack, who was near the Professor, slowly back away, careful not to make any sudden movements.

They certainly did not notice the muffled, quiet gasp from Fluttershy, or the immediate tension that rippled throughout her delicate muscles. It barely registered when she slowly rose up, her fists balled, and only an exceptionally astute observer would have noticed that the rays of the sun flickering through the canopy played a trick of the light, making her eyes look a fiery red.

However, the assembled students could not help but notice when she stood on her tiptoes to face the Professors and screamed in a preternaturally loud voice: "NO!"

"That is absolutely ENOUGH! I have watched you this whole week, and the healthier you have become, the more awful you have behaved. You think that just because you're so dark and mysterious and powerful, that gives you the right to be terrible to everyone. Well, GUESS WHAT?! I've seen bad guys who are ten times as scary as you! Where I'm from, we have things that are actually scary, but you think that just because you're the biggest, baddest, meanest wizard here at this school, or maybe even this entire land, you think that means something!"

She inched closer to Professor Quirrell's face. "Well, CONGRATULATIONS! You're the scariest bunny at the petting zoo!"

Pinkie Pie clapped a hand over her mouth, and Rainbow Dash whispered to no one in particular, "You know she's mad when she takes the Bunny's name in vain."

"What else would I expect from a teacher who gets his kicks from wrapping little babies like him around his finger? I bet you've even convinced yourself that this whole evil-teacher persona is for some dark, nefarious purpose as if being here and being a huge jerk", she stamped her foot down to punctuate the word, "is somehow a more effective means of getting what you want!"

She gestured aggressively to her friends, "You are privy to a great becoming, but you recognize nothing! You are an ant in the afterbirth, a slug in the sun. It is in your nature to do one thing correctly: tremble. You live your whole life in fear, trembling at what you know to come, running away, always running. But dread it, run from it, death comes all the same. And you're just… sad! You're a sad, dying old man, and no one has loved you, no one will ever love you, and no matter how hard you try, you're going to die a stupid, cruel, pointless death just like the rest of them! You'll keep fighting it, and fighting it, and fighting it, and fighting it, you'll keep spinning stories to make yourself feel better and give some sense of meaning to your stupidly short and pointless existence, and it's not going to make one bit of difference! You were born too soon, you aren't one of the lucky ones, and you're going to die here on this stupid rock and NOTHING YOU DO IS GOING TO MAKE A SINGLE BIT OF DIFFERENCE!"

By the time she had finished, she was positively screaming at the top of her lungs. Two birds that were perched on her shoulder had gripped the edges of her cloak, lifting it up, creating the ominous impression of wings. A single snake, which had wriggled in from somewhere, had wrapped half of itself around her arm, and the other half was extended in the direction of the Professor, hissing menacingly at-

Was that a BLUE KRAIT?!

The Professor, for his part, waited pleasantly for her to finish, with an almost bored, placid smile on his face. "Child, I'll think you'll find-"

Quite unexpectedly, he stuttered on his words. "I think you'll find-"

What.

"I think… I… Buh. Buh. Buhhhh."

THUD

What.

Fluttershy had just knocked out the Defense Professor using her words.

Fluttershy. Had just. Knocked Out. The Defense Professor.

With. Her. Words.

Or, at least, that's what it looked like. It was a coincidence, of course. It had to be, right? Harry knew that things like this didn't actually happen, that the simplest explanation was most likely the true one, that the Professor, although he was looking better, was not at 100% and even when he was, he was still prone to random fits of catatonia.

And yet, he couldn't deny it. This looked bad.

Meanwhile, Fluttershy spun around and glared at the crowd, the fire still dancing angrily in her eyes. "Does anyone else have anything mean they want to say?"

She surveyed the crowd manically, and a few people nearby quickly shook their heads.

"That's what I thought! Now hug each other!" She roared.

There was not a single person in the crowd who would dare defy her, and the only noise for a few moments was the sound of robes rustling and footsteps falling on the forest floor.

"And say something nice! And mean it!"

The crowd erupted into a stilted chorus of well-wishes, and as quickly as it had come on, the fire left Fluttershy's eyes, the snake wriggled back to wherever it had come from, and the birds had dropped her cloak back onto her shoulders.

"There. Isn't that better?" She asked, pleasantly.

The crowd said nothing, absolutely nothing, and no one even noticed when the two-hour mark had come and gone. The standard mechanism for enforcing forfeiture was an enchantment which caused the victim to fall asleep on the spot, but without the Professor's conscious magic empowering it, the two-hour mark passed without consequence. The scoreboard, however, being powered by a much more mundane magic, declared that the game had ended, and the grades for all of the students had suddenly flipped to "O" for Outstanding.

Normally, this would have been cause for great celebration, but the assembled crowd just stared, open-mouthed, at Fluttershy, while Hagrid, who had been waiting nearby for security and protection, awkwardly collected the Professor in his arms and carried him away to the hospital wing.

Internally, the Professor grinned wickedly as he feigned unconsciousness. It had been a last minute change of plan, but the boy had made an excellent point. He did have a blind spot for strategies that involved being "nice".

And that was a mistake he planned to quickly rectify.