Except that some part of Harry was utterly convinced that magic was real, and had been since the instant he saw the putative letter from the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The best term I've heard for this fic is "parallel universe". The funny thing was, he should have agreed with Dad. There was a long silence in the garden.
Beneath the moonlight glints a tiny fragment of silver, a fraction of a line I will use the scientific method even if it makes me feel stupid. This called for careful calligraphy. Usually Harry was pretty good at answering that question, but in this particular case, he had no clue what his brain was thinking. For years, I begged her. He shut the door behind him and tried to think. This fic is widely considered to have really hit its stride starting at around Chapter 5. If Mum had sent the letter herself, that would explain how it arrived at the letterbox without a stamp. I also don't know where to obtain any of the books or equipment listed in your acceptance letter. That seemed like a rather suspicious sort of excuse. A flat metal plate on a door affords pushing, and a handle on a door affords pulling, and the thing to do with a testable hypothesis is to go and test it. He was given anything reasonable that he wanted, except, maybe, the slightest shred of respect. You'll think I'm -" She swallowed. A human mind can't just visualize a whole cat's anatomy and, and all the cat biochemistry, and what about the neurology? Rowling owns Harry Potter, and no one owns the methods of rationality. I want my husband to, to listen to his wife who loves him, and trust her just this once -" Harry closed his eyes briefly. Calling out Letter for Hogwarts! You may not realise how easy it is for a trained magician to fake the seemingly impossible. The funny thing was, he should have agreed with Dad. A cunning and manipulative Draco Malfoy and a powerful yet cynical Prof. I recently received your letter of acceptance to Hogwarts, addressed to Mr. His voice trembled a little. There is a letter lying on the living-room table, and an unstamped envelope of yellowish parchment, addressed to Mr. That's not just an arbitrary rule, it's implied by the form of the quantum Hamiltonian! Dear Deputy Headmistress Harry paused, reflecting; then discarded the paper for another, tapping another millimetre of graphite from his mechanical pencil. Come for the premise, stay for the story and along the way let the message of rationality rub off and enlighten you.
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