Before proceeding with discussion, I have two items that must be mentioned.
First, the bad news: Christie has had to withdraw from posting, owing to other life commitments needing priority—things like working and having two children. She hopes to still read along, and maybe we’ll even get her to comment from time to time. :)
Second: I would be failing in my duties as your resident Potterhead if I did not embed the following video.
At your service.
Masha responded to the last chapter with some insightful comments on Trelawney and the subject of Divination. She’s right that Trelawney is “a delightful fraud”; my favorite comment, however, was
Maybe Trelawney's merely a reminder that attempting to make a formula from a mystery is impossible and makes those that attempt it look ridiculous.
I’m delighting in academics and am lately feeling crazy fond of knowledge, the scientific method, theorizing, philosophizing, and all that—but Masha’s point introduces a nice little check into the West’s zeal in both the scientific and religious arenas. Not a halt, just a check—a warning not to dash off the edges of the earth in pursuit of the one explanation that solves everything.
On to the next chapters!
This Week in Reading Harry
Read: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, chapters 16 and 17
1. Hermione irritates her classmates by fussing about how her Transfigured teapot looked more like a turtle than a tortoise, while everyone else is saying things like “Were the tortoises supposed to breathe steam?”
As someone who this week got a patient "I know you attempt to get 100% on your exams" email from a Spanish professor who knew I'd be upset with a 95%, I ... think it's a good thing I'm not on campus to irritate classmates who have healthier priorities. We annoying worrywarts are typically more invested than we need to be in the given moment, and we tend not to know how to stop that.
2. Professor Lupin’s final exam. I absolutely love this. Around the time I went up against my Statistics final, I think I would have battled the exact same boggart as Hermione—substituting professors, of course.
3. The Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures makes its decision before finally weighing the evidence. “Justice”—to borrow Thomas Hardy’s scare quotes from the end of Tess of the D’Urbervilles—has all too often done the same.
4. I’d like to say that Harry’s fabricated crystal-ball viewing, in his Divination final, is testimony to Rowling’s confidence in the act of choosing—but that would involve SPOILERS.
5. Regarding humans' astounding capability for self-deception, I have to wonder how much of the students’ crystal-ball reporting Professor Trelawney actually believes. “A little disappointing,” she says, “but I’m sure you did your best.” Her disappointment appears to center in Harry’s failure to see death in the ball. I find this a mystery indeed.
6. The real prediction, which—again, self-deception—Trelawney refused to believe that she actually made.
7. Ron demonstrates his bravery. I love that it’s Ron, wobbling on a broken leg, who says, “If you want to kill Harry, you’ll have to kill us too!”
8. Crookshanks demonstrates his humanity. I like a cat with a feel for justice. (It's outside the norm. The Oatmeal: "Dogs are a man's best friend. Cats are man's adorable little serial killers.")
9. Hermione gets two out of three questions wrong. It happens to the best of us; it’s shockingly hard to get all the evidence regarding any tolerably important matter in this life.
10. “I’m Moony”—a werewolf. Here's Moony's backstory, drawn from Pottermore, for your reading pleasure. SPOILERS for latter books abound.
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More Moony and the introduction of Peter Pettigrew, next post. For now, to tide you over until that day, here are some links to give you the warm fuzzies: first, Kelly Orazi's beautiful MuggleNet piece on J.K. Rowling's recent Twitter statement that "You got the letter. You went to Hogwarts. We were all there together." (If that doesn't make your week, I'm not sure how to help you.)
It's been almost exactly a year since the last Harry Potter Book Club post went up on my blog. I, for one, have missed our conversations. People have gone on talking about books and stuff, but it really just hasn't been the same.
Fifty shades of gray, listed by hexadecimal value.
I have such a weakness for puns.
Not having read that book, I have nothing else of interest
to say about it.
It's asking a great deal, I know, but perhaps you all might forgive the H.P.B.C. for having taken the year off. Masha had a baby. Christie traveled to Wales and back again, and had a baby. I took a job, entered college, and underwent metamorphosis.
But I'm still twelve years old at heart.
Some things never change. Source.
I'll let Masha and Christie discuss their lives or not, as they choose. For now, I'll limit myself in this post to the subject at hand, which is Harry Potter—but I've seriously been through enough Transfiguration this year to find it worth noting that going forward with Harry Potter, picking up right where we left off in the middle of book three, I'm reading with new eyes. New eyes, and a few more unicorn hairs.
:: Conversation with my friend Bekah ::
Me: I found more gray hairs.
Bekah: Not gray. They are silver in a magical way, like unicorns.
Me: THAT. Yes.
Never fear: if you're curious, the general thoughts and feels will come up. Harry has experiences that can be made relevant to nearly everything important, and I'm well practiced at making mental leaps. Till Rowling brings it up, then.
Flippantly minor newsworthy item: I got a smartphone this year. I love it almost as much as Mr. Weasley might.
My favorite tech junkie.
So, right—Harry Potter. Remember, anybody can post to the book club on their own blog! That said, for the sake of one priceless commodity—time—I'm dropping the little-used link carousel. If you're not Masha or Christie and you post to the book club, leave me a comment with a link to your post, and I'll link back to you in my next post. M and C, I can of course find your posts without the aid of magic. :)
Also, with an unpredictable schedule and practically no time for reading, I can't promise to post regularly. I can, however, promise to give it the old college try! I'm in college. I'm doing stuff like that.
(NB: College is way better than middle and high school. J. K. Rowling should really write a book about wizard university, because MERLIN'S PANTS IT WOULD BE WONDERFUL. LIKE BABY UNICORNS.)
We left off with chapters 13 and 14. Recap:
Sirius Black broke into Gryffindor Tower
Lupin and Snape confronted the Marauder's Map
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle got punished by McGonagall for dressing up as dementors and sabotaging the Quidditch game
Hermione got herself in over her head.
I must say, the number of times I've thought of Hermione's near-hysterical "I can't, Harry, I've still got four hundred and twenty-two pages to read!" these last months has not been insignificant.
Now, on to chapter 15! It's theoretically an easy one, as we're talking Quidditch.
* * *
This Week in Reading Harry
Read: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, chapter 15
Potential discussion points:
1. Injustice in the Wizarding world. Hagrid has lost his case for Buckbeak against the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures—which is a remarkably chilling name. Disposal?
The loss of the case is too easily written off by Ron—and therefore Harry and the reader—as a result of Lucius Malfoy's throwing the weight of his wealth and power around. What has to be remembered is that Buckbeak did actually savage Malfoy, albeit under direct provocation, and therefore a handful of people who weren't present at the savaging chose to defend the child over the animal. It happened to be the wrong choice.
Wizards and witches, Rowling reminds us again and again, are human. Humans universally make choices based on the information at hand, fed through layers of conscious knowledge and unconscious presupposition, obvious passions and muddled emotion. Injustice can result at any point: misinformation, misunderstanding, wrong presuppositions, conflicting emotions and loyalties.
What's shocking to me is how easy it is, especially when you're removed from a situation, to be part of injustice. It's awful when you realize you have been.
I'm not a huge fan of corporal punishment, but occasionally it seems to be the only way to settle an attitude—noting, of course, that this was a very small and not ultimately damaging strike given in response to an attitude the size of Grawp.
3. Cheering Charms. They sound addictive. You know how when you have chronic pain, you don't realize just how much pain it is till the right medication takes it away suddenly? I was lucky enough to experience eight hours this year with my usual anxiety completely sedated, and ... oh gosh. No amount of chocolate or alcohol has ever provided the same sense of relief and contentment as having anxiety just magically gone for a little while.
4. The crystal-gazing scene. This is possibly one of the funniest scenes in the series.
Harry, at least, felt extremely foolish, staring blankly at the crystal ball, trying to keep his mind empty when thoughts such as "this is stupid" kept drifting across it.
I haven't pulled anything more profound out of it, however; not until the part where:
"There's going to be loads of fog tonight."
Art by Marigolade-69.
5. Intellectualism finally gets fed up with Divination and storms out of the room. I'll let Masha take the lead on this subject, but here are some foggy preliminary thoughts:
I have vivid, detailed, emotive dreams that do sometimes seem to connect organically to waking experience, though I see them not as predictive but as curiosities that can occasionally be helpful in clarifying thought processes.
Also, single crows make me nervous. On the whole, however, I take firm refuge in science—which, when it's done properly, at least is supposed to acknowledge what it does not know. What I appreciate about Masha's approach to superstition, however, is that she makes the same concession. If more of us made that concession, the world truly might be a better place.
6. The Quidditch final, House rivalry, and competitive sports. I played volleyball in high school (not that I was good at it; I was just tall); I haven't got a problem with a little team spirit and competitiveness. Learning to lose and win graciously are good life skills. Sports are more fun than running on treadmills, and I can definitely yell and cheer at a Superbowl party when the Seahawks are playing. All admitted!
But team spirit is both charm and curse. Humanity admittedly might never get anything significant done without it, but when it's directed against other people, it bleeds the human soul of empathy. Fiercely loyal partisanship in politics blinds people to the truth underlying opposing positions. In religion (or the rejection thereof), the team mentality is death to caritas; speaking as a Christian—and as one who looks like an insider while sometimes having outsider feelings—I get frustrated with communal habits of dismissiveness toward, and unwillingness to work with, people who live outside the inner sanctum.
Most of all, though, I worry about team spirit when it leads otherwise sincere people to fight dirty. (Fred and George, you know I love you like crazy, but ...) I worry about a sports team when it starts regularly fouling its rivals in a game, and that concern gets profoundly personal when dirty fighting makes its way into things like politics and religion, which affect real humans' lives. My own record is hardly perfect here—I am absolutely as human as the next girl who hates losing—but part of growing is learning to play fairer, so there's always hope.
And there's your Hufflepuff optimist talking. :)
That ought to be enough to be going on with for this week. Happy Potter talk!
^^ The above setup terrified me so much that I had a hard time answering the questions myself. I never would have gotten Ginny's Patronus, either. I can rock trivia if it's book-based, but IMO, stuff that's only on Pottermore is not fair game.
Usually I prefer to link art I can credit, but for this I can only give a source. To the unknown artist: Thank you for including Harry and Hermione in the Weasley family portrait. It wouldn't be the same without them.
What's missing for me is a healthy family dynamic. Not ideal..I'm not expecting ideal, - really, honestly, I'm serious! - just reasonably attractive. I know everyone thinks I'm mean for rejecting the Weasleys... I hate-with-a-passion the 'hen-pecked husband' thing. Can't stand it. I am way too sick of the over-abundance of Father-as-object-of-Ridicule gigs to embrace yet another. I'd love to see a family where spouses share a mutual respect and nurture each others dignity...
And I'm going to repeat what I said in response, which is that:
I'm OK with my love for the Weasleys being a bit irrational. Because it's true that the dynamic between Arthur and Molly is far from ideal, and is the sort of thing that's absolutely insufferable in real life. The dynamic between Molly and anyone is less than ideal, except for Harry perhaps—and it's her love for Harry, her mothering of the motherless, that redeems her so thoroughly to me.
To be fair, she welcomes Hermione as freely as she does Harry. And anyone who had to raise Fred and George can perhaps be forgiven for being a bit prone to panicking and yelling.
Allie Brosh and the Weasley twins FTW! From Cheezburger.
We don't see a lot of healthy family dynamics anywhere in Harry Potter, actually. You get a little of it in Harry's flashbacks of his parents' death scene, so you know what he lost, but there aren't a lot of clear, positive family pictures in the stories.
The Weasleys are far from ideal, but Potter fans everywhere love them, and I do, too. Maybe it's just that at thirty-six, after that much lifetime with a close-knit family that is capable both of wounding deeply and surviving those wounds, I sympathize a bit. Or maybe it's that there's sort of a Catholic nostalgia around the prolific, poor family where nobody is perfect, and nobody quite follows all the rules, but everybody is wanted and welcome.
Molly and Arthur Weasley remind me of two couples I've known for whom bickering seemed to be part of the package. One of those couples is gray-haired and still together—and possibly still bickering—and the other seems to have ironed out their differences, at least for public viewing. I would call them both happy, though I don't know either well enough at this point to say for sure.
As for hen-pecked husbands, I generally dislike the caricature on principle, but I can't say that I've ever been acquainted with the reality. At least, not with anything fitting the general image. The dominant husband and painfully subservient wife—now that I've seen, and if the Weasleys had been that, I would have responded with visceral dislike much like Masha has expressed. Ergo, no judgies from this quarter.
In other news, I went hunting for Weasley fan art, and now I have "Weasley Is Our King" stuck in my head.
I have a post on a friend's beautiful modern visual art that I'm desperately trying to get posted. Not to mention the two book reviews that want writing up. They require conscious thought. Conscious thought takes work, however.
Conscious feels—not so much. :D
Kristina Horner, this is so perfect, and I love you. I always knew we were a lot alike, even though I called myself a Gryffindor and you called yourself a Slytherin.
The only thing—well, I'm not so sure about cuddling a badger. They bite. I don't need a badger for biting instead of cuddling; I have a cat for that. Most of the time, I can pry her teeth out of my hand.
Friendship is, I think, the love Rowling is least comfortable with..it is the weakest portrayed in the series, the most often portrayed, the least inspiring of all the loves shown in the series.
I would make that argument for romance, not friendship.
Apart from frequency of portrayal, every argument Masha makes here strikes me as highly defensible if we're talking about the romantic relationships—a point I believe firmly even though I shipped the canon pairs from the earliest books. But since we'll probably get to romantic love later on, I won't bother defending my position just yet.
As for friendship:
The primary friendship: Harry, Ron, and Hermione is a frustrating one for me. Harry and Ron are pretty consistently abandoning Hermione for all manner of petty reasons, Ron is - it seems, never really stops hating Harry for life in the limelight, and Harry has the sort of trust issues that can only come from an abusive childhood..but why do they never, ever go away - at least with his two closest friends?
If that had been a wizarding photo booth,
those pictures would move. Source.
Reader experience is so personal that I can't argue with that. I can argue that Ron does eventually stop hating Harry for life in the limelight, but unfortunately my best proof requires a quote from the epilogue to Deathly Hallows, which is off limits right now.
In these first three books, the Trio is very young, and when I was their age, I was a petty friend, too. I spent a year being angry with my best friend for turning thirteen nine months before I did. Said best friend also got a much earlier grip on maturity. When I think of the evening I spent sneaking up behind her and startling her, or the afternoon I kept flipping her off the inner tube in the pool after promising her again and again that I wouldn't... yeah. I'm lucky she didn't call me a jerk and find a nicer girl to hang out with.
I can't find it in me to condemn Ron when I've been forgiven so much. :)
As for Harry never getting over his trust issues: Masha, can you give me an example of that? I'm not sure what you mean by that, so I'm not sure how to defend him.
Because the trio aren't the only friends represented in the series, but they're probably the best shot at healthy, true friendships, and it's disappointing.
I'd give that "best shot" to the Marauders, actually, sans traitor. No disappointment necessary.
The Marauders—Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs—are introduced in this book, and despite certain notable personal failures, the three loyal ones were indeed loyal. The bond of love between them ran deep. Like, David and Jonathan, Frodo and Sam deep. Deep enough to induce singer-songwriter-GarageBandmaster Zoe Bromelow to write all kinds of songs celebrating that love.
Taking her band name from the dedication to Deathly Hallows, Ms. Bromelow is well known for her Marauder-era tunes. Her songs are pretty rough-cut, but she's just about unrivalled in wizard rock for her ability to pack emotion into a short lyric and a haunting little melody. She is absolutely my favorite wrocker, and here are two applicable songs, both of which I love. It's sloppy academic practice to use wizard rock songs as arguments, but I'm totally going to do it anyway.
"Up to No Good" (sorry, I couldn't find a way to embed these)
So I'll stay with Padfoot even when he's crazy I'll stick with Wormtail even when he's lazy Be Prongs' friend even when he's insufferable This means trouble
You always could see right through me A silent smile for some inner beauty I always did know how to calm you down But life's not the same without James and Lily
It's hard to sleep and it's hard to cry But still I repeat it like a lullaby This war will end We'll see them again I swear on every star in the sky
Spoilerific, but I couldn't resist. Art by ahshow.
We'll get some pictures of the Marauders' love and loyalty at the end of this book: Moony embracing the long-lost Padfoot as a brother, and Prongs' love reaching forward one generation to save Padfoot's life and soul.
So much simmering resentment. I look back at my own school-day friendships and I remember having friends like that: friends I liked (even loved), but didn't really trust, friends I knew would isolate me at the first mis-step..those weren't my closest friends. My dearest friends from school were the ones I trusted with my whole heart, the ones I know are still there for me, despite the miles, despite the spiritual distance, despite the paths we've taken that lead away from each other. There's still that core closeness..and maybe that closeness is there, somewhere deeply hidden in the trio. Buried behind back-biting, petty betrayals, and thoughtless cruelties, maybe there's the core of friendship. But if it's there, it seems like a sad, struggling thing - beset on all sides.
Hermione is the constant in the Trio, the one who—despite bossiness and a taste for following the rules that goes mostly unshared by her best friends—is never, as far as I can recall offhand, disloyal. She bickers with Ron and is occasionally rude to him, usually after he does something particularly unkind to her, but she never gives either of them up for lost causes. Both boys need that loyalty.
In Prisoner of Azkaban, Ron and Hermione don't speak to each other for weeks on account of Hermione's cat supposedly killing Ron's rat. Harry and Ron are both more heartless without Hermione, and it's her approach, trembling, with the important knowledge of a mutual friend's grief, that begins reconciliation. That act cracks Ron's pride. When Ron's pride cracks, Hermione's caves in, and Harry's might never have existed. All is forgiven.
The Trio is beset on all sides, what with a serious lack of adult guidance and an evil wizard trying desperately to kill one of them off. They quarrel like siblings and sometimes have a real blowup between them, but there is always love there. It pulls them back together every time.
Still, if it is there - and I never see it reading the books, really, only in discussing them afterwards with enthusiastic people who can see it - it does raise the friendships in the series above where I saw them. I like to hope that maybe Rowling is trying to draw that aspect of friendship out. Reminding her readers again and again that love is something constant..something that 'bears all things..endures all things..[and] never fails.'
Human love fails regularly. Rowling shows us that, but she also shows it growing, becoming more than itself, finding new ways around old breaches. Some sort of conflict between the Trio plays a role in the overarching conflict in several of the books, if not all seven, but the friends always return to peace.
What do you think, are her friendships true and beautiful? Are they Loving?
I'd argue that Rowling's friendships are realistic: true and beautiful at times, flawed and unattractive at others. They develop, progress and regress, and finish out the story rather wonderfully, in my opinion, though I'm not allowed to talk about that yet. :)
Hail, friends! It's H.P.B.C. time. I didn't mean to move the Book Club to Tuesdays, but—well, the blog schedule's more or less up in the air till I get settled into new routines. Thanks for your great patience. ;)
It's too bad Rowling never gave us a sneak peek into the staffroom: Snape sipping bad coffee (no cream) and glaring at Lupin - remembering every wrong done to him; Lupin avoiding conversations that might lead to awkward werewolf issues; McGonagall drinking some sort of smokey, peaty tea (with milk and a biscuit), writing lesson plans and ignoring everyone..tension and unspoken arguments everywhere. Dumbledore couldn't have picked a less cohesive staff if he tried.
Her post also contains a recipe for a dementor drink, in case you want to practice your Patronus charm. And I recommend reading down into the comments to get BTanaka's dramatization of a Hogwarts staff meeting.
As for Christie, the news is out: she's finally getting to move to Wales to join her husband! Which seems a tad more important than keeping up with the H.P.B.C. right now. I know she's still reading the book, but she's also packing, and preparing to say goodbye to family and friends, and finishing up a job, and chasing a three-year-old... and she doesn't have any more time allotted her per day than the rest of us do. We'll look forward to a post from her whenever she gets the chance.
In the meantime, she's getting to move a lot closer to Hogwarts than the rest of us. Not fair.
On to this week's reading!
* * *
This Week in Reading Harry
Read:Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, chapters 13–14
Potential Discussion Points:
These chapters are quick reads and pretty light in a lot of ways. I'll just hit the high points:
1. Cedric Diggory. He's such a good guy. He was awesome even before he sparkled. ;) (Sorry, Masha. I couldn't resist.)
2. Bath buns. Here's a recipe, if you want to try them out. Apparently Jane Austen loved them, which is reason enough to give them a try; of course, the ones she got were probably better than Hagrid's. These look good, but I don't have caraway seeds, so I can't make them right now. Bad planning on my part.
3. Harry's anti-dementor spell. OK, I shouldn't laugh... I shouldn't... but Malfoy and company's getting scared out of their wits by a Patronus and then chewed out by Professor McGonagall, after a really mean-spirited attempt to sabotage Harry, always makes me grin. "Fifty points from Slytherin!" It's about time you took fifty points from a House other than your own, Professor. I mean, really. ;)
And yet, this picture is kind of adorable. Source.
4. Lupin and the Marauder's Map. Ooh, so many secrets. It's so much fun reading this when you know the end of the book. Considering what you knew, Lupin, I'm appalled that you didn't turn that map in. Glad, but appalled.
What I have never quite been able to figure out is whether Snape knew who the mapmakers were. Obviously he didn't know what the map was, but did he recognize the names?
Frankly, I think... aw, dang, it's SPOILERS. Well. Let's put it this way. The four insults carry a decent bit of personality to them. I'm partial to Mr. Moony's; he's clearly the most literate of the bunch. But then, of that foursome—while I love all three of the good guys very much, Moony is my favorite. He just is. What a beautiful heart.
5. Harry, crime, and punishment. It's common for critics of the Potter series to complain that Harry gets into an awful lot of trouble and never seems to get punished, face consequences, or be otherwise fairly set in his place by an adult. This chapter presents two of the best counterexamples in the series:
a. Hagrid tells Ron and Harry off for their mistreatment of Hermione. Hagrid isn't the world's most observant guy, but he's so softhearted that he winds up being very perceptive when it matters to a friend. While Harry and Ron don't respond with immediate behavior changes—Ron is too angry, and Harry too fond of taking the easy way out when he's not having to risk his life to save the world—they are not untouched by the lecture.
Source. Looks like one of Marta's to me.
But GOSH. This was surprisingly hard to find.
Do people ever draw Hermione with, like, books?
Instead of being hit on by every guy in the series?
b. Lupin manages what Snape never could have done: he makes Harry feel guilty for breaking the rules. I'm not sure there's a more successful punishment in any of the books than Lupin's few, well-chosen words here. It's quite a powerful little scene—it manages to make me feel like I took a deserved kick to the stomach, and I didn't go sneaking off to Hogsmeade.
6. Poor Hermione, who "took nobody's advice but signed up for everything." I'll have to be careful to not get myself in that deep when I sign up for classes. No SPOILERS for me! I have to do everything in [SPOILERIFIC noun and adjective redacted].
Bother! That comment was a waste of time. Too many spoilers.
"Ah, well, people can be a bit stupid abou' their pets," said Hagrid wisely. Behind him, Buckbeak spat a few ferret bones onto Hagrid's pillow.
One of many, many reasons to love J.K. Rowling: she's so. freaking. hilarious. <3
He is. Several men spend quality time in James Potter's vacant shoes—Dumbledore, Arthur Weasley, SPOILER—and as much as Harry loves and honors those men, only SPOILER really steps up as father rather than as friend or mentor. And even SPOILER, for SPOILERIFIC reasons, only gets halfway there. Lupin is not just a quality teacher for Harry in this book; he is as wise and loving and parental as any relative stranger could reasonably be, and no one ever quite equals him in that.
While Harry never acknowledges that gift in words, I think he knows it—and I think that's a lot of what's behind the fury in a certain scene in book seven.
... and it's clear he steps into the role unwillingly.
There are a lot of possible reasons for that. Masha says,
Maybe he knows that reaching out to Harry will eventually require him to confront all the losses and missed-opportunities in his past.
...and that's similar to my own thoughts. Lupin was conscientious on his own even when very young, but was also very easy to influence, unwilling to challenge anyone he loved. Now in his thirties, he's prone to a sense of guilt and inadequacy so strong that it chokes his judgment, makes it next to impossible for him to feel his way forward in the right direction. (He reminds me of myself sometimes....) And yet, he's wise and caring and possibly more empathetic than anyone else in the series. I love that guy.
There's lots more to come from Remus John Lupin... but for now, on to this week's reading!
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This Week in Reading Harry
Read: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, chapters 11–12
Potential Discussion Points:
Source. But I was sad and it was the meme-makers' fault,
so I put in a tiny apostrophe after "dementors."
The usage could be singular, rather than plural,
but it's clearly possessive.
1. Christmas at Hogwarts. I love that presents appear at the foot of the bed in the Wizarding World, although this seems to be a charm of some sort, not connected to any personage either legendary or historical or both. Which makes me miss Narnia's Father Christmas.
Christmas dinner at Hogwarts sounds like an awkward family gathering full of stereotypes. Trelawney (the crazy relative) and McGonagall (the enforcer of family tradition) are much less than civil to each other. Dumbledore (the one who makes sure everyone gets together, like it or not) has to play diplomat between them. Snape (the one who 'has not' and is therefore a little to the outside of things, like a spinster aunt who wanted to get married) gets teased about something that embarrasses him.
Which makes me particularly grateful for my family Christmases.
2. The Firebolt. Not the most sensible gift, but then, it's not given by the most sensible guy. Sometimes gifts are given with more feeling than wisdom. Feeling types—as opposed to Thinking types, in the Myers-Briggs—are often subject to this failing. (Being an off-the-charts Feeler, I do this sort of thing myself, usually with affirmation. I wish I could stop, because I see it make people uncomfortable.)
3. Buckbeak and Hagrid. Right now, I'm smiling because Hagrid couldn't leave Buckbeak outside at Christmas, and because Ron made tea as a form of comfort. Crazy they both may be, but it's a good kind of crazy.
And there's no better way to get your mind out of an obsession than by fixing it on someone else's need.... although my mind develops obsessions a lot more frequently than others' needs make their appeals to me. It's rather a constant thing. Fortunately, said obsessions don't usually involve revenge.
4. The Patronus, by definition:
"The Patronus is a kind of positive force, a projection of the very things that the dementor feeds upon—hope, happiness, the desire to survive—but it cannot feel despair, as real humans can, so the dementors can't hurt it. But I must warn you, Harry, that the charm might be too advanced for you. Many qualified wizards have difficulty with it."
I'll bet many qualified wizards do have difficulty with that charm. Hermione later does, as I recall, which makes sense—like the giving of not-very-sensible gifts, the casting of a Patronus is more of an emotive work than a logical or technical one. Intelligence does not necessarily increase happiness—not even when it comes with mastery.
Especially not if you're Grumpy Cat.
As for the definition itself: here in the Muggle world, we don't quite face the utter annihilation of our souls, nor can we quite place our hopes outside ourselves in some invincible protective form. But if Rowling's dementors are depression with substance and animation, it only makes sense that the antidote would be corporealized happiness and hope.
If "Expecto Patronum" doesn't work,
try kittens! Source.
5. I Expect a Guardian! I love this post by Terpsichore over at The Egotist's Club. Terpsichore asks,
What happy memory or hope is your guardian against Dementor-like feelings?
and doesn't get much of a response, but it's a good question. I'll answer, but first: considering that Lupin defines a Patronus as "a kind of positive force, a projection of the very things that the dementor feeds upon—hope, happiness, the desire to survive," it's odd that Harry is asked for a happy memory. Memories can help, but hope is what's needed, and that's what I like about Terpsichore's post. She points out several (SPOILERIFIC) instances where Harry's casting of a Patronus is done by some means other than memory, and then says,
Where a happy memory may not get us through, our hopes may; perseverance may; or faith may, the assurance about what we do not see.
I employ of all of the above; depression is not a one-weapon battle. But when I "can' see the point o' livin'," like Hagrid in Azkaban, here's one idea that defends me well: the thought of young people whom I know and love dearly, some of whom love me dearly in return—young people who need to see me fight through life, for whom my giving up would be devastating and might influence them to do likewise. I spent yesterday with two of them. There is not much in this world more precious to me than their innocent faith that Aunty lives for them.
This turns out to be a personal Patronus drawing, but I thought it was SPOILERS.
Art by MauserGirl.
6. "Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off—"
This one just hurts me. Lily's sacrifice is made much of in the story; James', perhaps because he—unlike Lily (SPOILERS!!!)—would have gotten murdered anyway, is not. But when Voldemort shows up at the Potters' hideout, James doesn't hesitate.
Fan fic in pictures: James protecting Lily in a more cheerful way.
Art by burdge
If only he could have gotten in a lucky AK. *weeps*
Apologies for the lateness of this blog post. In the past day and a half, I've submitted one university application, put together and sent off one résumé and two writing samples for a job, planned and directed the first men's chant schola rehearsal, attempted to play "Aeris' Theme" and "Clair de Lune" for my fantastic new piano teacher, and (barely) survived the requisite anxiety attacks for all of the above. Also, Hermione and I are having the same kind of week:
Professor Lupin smiled at the look of indignation on every face.
"Don't worry. I'll speak to Professor Snape. You don't have to do the essay."
"Oh no," said Hermione, looking very disappointed. "I've already finished it!"
This conversation happened yesterday morning:
Me: "...but I do have my GED, I got it way back in 1996, and I'm scheduled to take the SAT on..."
Very Nice Admissions Advisor: "How old did you say you were?"
Me: "Thirty-six."
Anxiety: "Do they not accept students who are this old?"
Very Nice Admissions Advisor: "The reason I ask is because if you're over 25, you're not required to take the SAT."
Me: "!!!"
Of course, I've already paid for it and begun re-learning all that math, so I might as well.
I thought Rowling said the Dementors represented depression, not fear. Two very different emotional experiences. So if Harry feared the dementors themselves, wouldn't he be more afraid of despair than fear?
I also enjoyed BTanaka's response:
No, his advice doesn't really make sense. The real answer, of course, is "that suggests what you fear most is hideous demons that destroy all happiness and can eat your soul. Very wise, Harry."
:D
Christie has yet to post, but I'm sure she will soon, so we're moving on!
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This Week in Reading Harry
Read:Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, chapter 10
Potential Discussion Points:
1. Harry's mother's voice. You're an orphan, raised by people who hate you. You can't remember your parents at all. Not till you were eleven did you even see pictures of your parents, and then you saw a mirror-image of them specifically designed to drive you mad with longing. Eventually you run into demoniac, soul-sucking creatures that mess with your mind in horrible ways till you lose consciousness—and in that state, as your mind goes black, for the first time in your life, you hear your mother's voice. Screaming. As she's about to be murdered for protecting you.
2. The Marauder's Map. This is one of Rowling's great inventions, and it raises so many questions that I just can't stand it. How did Fred and George ever figure out how to work it? Did Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs use the exact same phrasing? And of all things, well—I could probably never work it, because I'd have to say:
and I just can't solemnly swear that...! (Shocker revelation: I'm kind of an uptight person.)
Did Hermione ever use it? Because she strikes me as too conscientiously law-abiding. If there's a record of her working the map in the books, I've forgotten it. Feel free to remind me. Avowal of personal mischief is obviously not a problem for Fred, George, or Harry, of course.
This also raises the question of how serious you have to be about the words you use in Potter magic. Harry's not "up to no good" when he's using the map to watch over SPOILER in book seven.
3. What Harry overhears. So, yeah, eavesdropping is a bad idea. I can't say more than that without SPOILERS. But it is a convenient plot device, and Harry really gets an earful here. Mass murderer Sirius Black was his dad's best friend. Black is in Azkaban, not just for murdering thirteen people, but for betraying James and Lily and Harry to Voldemort.
As we've noted a few times, this book is full of strong contrast between darkness and light, and we get a bit of it in this chapter, which is right in the middle of the book: the darkness of Harry's dementor-inspired memory of his mother's death, followed by humor and comfort from Professor Lupin; the trip through the dark tunnel followed by a sweetshop and swirling snow; and then, in reverse pattern, the warmth of Harry's brief Christmastime moment in The Three Broomsticks with Ron and Hermione and his first taste of butterbeer, followed by a trip under the table where he hears dark things about Sirius Black and his parents' death.
I'm trying not to question the believability of a scene in which the Minister of Magic and Professor McGonagall gossip with Hagrid and a barmaid. The idea of Hagrid himself gossiping on several pints of mead is no big stretch, of course. Good old careless, reliable, affectionate Hagrid.
Your turn! Now I want to make some more butterbeer.
Now that I've got that out of the way, I should apologize for playing hooky last week (who plays hooky from Hogwarts?) I was sick. But here I am, ready for some football. I mean, Quidditch. Bah! Dean Thomas and his West Ham soccer team poster know how I feel right about now.
Snape never should have become a teacher..people who hate people are the worst teachers in the world. But at least his students learn, I mean, once they get past the emotional trauma.. Lupin (in this book) is ideal! He's capable, kind, knowledgeable..a real teacher. I like him..I wish they'd cast someone who didn't look like a grungy drunk in the movie...
...but my favorite part of her post was this meme, which is so hilarious that I'm stealing it:
Alan Rickman: close to Augusta Longbottom's age,
and still a fan favorite.
Masha's source.
The minor character Sir Cadogan was such a nice treat for me—Rowling's clearly familiar with the Arthurian, chivalric tradition, from the Welsh-originating name to the fat knight's dated speech.
Not being an Arthurian scholar myself, I was glad to know it rang true for the pros and not just for the know-nothings. :)
Now, onto this week's reading, wherein we get to turn to page 394. Honestly. I've read all the books, seen all the movies, hung out in fandom, and read Know Your Meme on the subject, and I still do not get why this is a meme. Maybe just because Alan Rickman said it.
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This Week in Reading Harry
Read: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, chapters 8-9
1. The death of Lavender's rabbit. Which, despite Rowling's love for cornball wordplay, doesn't seem to have anything to do with the phrase "the rabbit died." Anyhow, I always enjoy Hermione's logical battle with the weeping and credulous Lavender, even if Hermione's unsympathetic timing is liable to ensure Lavender's rejection of logic rather than to clear up her mind.
2. "That suggests that what you fear most of all is—fear. Very wise, Harry." I'm not sure what to make of this statement; to me, it sounds a little bit like "Seize the day" and other bits of popular aphoristic wisdom: helpful enough for certain people under certain circumstances, but not necessarily true in the transcendental sense. I'm afraid of fear, all right, but not more than I'm afraid of becoming evil. Though those two fears are admittedly related.
3. Sirius Black breaks into school. And the mystery thickens. Most of us know how all this ends, but SO MANY SPOILERS, so I'll wait a little while longer to talk much about Sirius.
4. Cedric Diggory. He gets more stage time in book four, but here he's introduced as quiet and talented and handsome and honorable. If he never did anything else in the story, I'd still have thought highly of him for wanting a rematch when he caught the Snitch just as Harry passed out and fell off his broom.
And he was definitely nicer-looking as Cedric than as Edward, I've got to admit.
5. "He's only silent because he's too thick to string two words together." Sheesh, Fred. I love you, but COME ON. Some of my favorite people are "the silent type". Including me, some days.
6. Quidditch, dementors, Dumbledore, the Gryffindor team, and the Nimbus Two Thousand. A lot of the best scenes in Harry Potter are the funny ones, especially in these early books, but there are some fantastic poignant ones, too—and I love this one, with the sopping and muddy Quidditch team, sans Wood and avec Hermione, clustered around Harry's hospital bed, shaking and whispering. They've just lost a game, but they put that aside for their teammate. I love the image Hermione gives us of angry Dumbledore; I love the feeling the teenagers show for Harry; and I love that Professor Flitwick and Hermione and Ron bring back the bits of Harry's broomstick. It's a good scene.
Hello! The Harry Potter Book Club is back in session. Christie's having to post as she can—she's got enough to do to occupy any three people—but the show goes on, and all of us with it.
Before Christmas, Masha wrote about about Divination, which was fascinating, since in her pagan days, she'd actually done it:
I can (but don't, so please, don't ask!) read pretty much anything: cards, palms, fire, moles, dreams, handwriting, wax...I used to love it, until I started worrying about my soul.
Her take is thoughtful, too; hardly a case of straight-up scientific dismissal:
It's nice to know the flakes of the world (Trelawney, Lavender, Parvati) show up alongside the Type - A, rationalists in the wizarding world as well as the real world. And really, there's no better place to reveal them than in the Divination tower.. Flakes of all types love divination - until you tell them the cute-guy-from-Whole-Foods won't actually be marrying them in the next few months - and Hermione or McGonagall types loathe it..even when it's dead on.
Read it! And then come back here for boggarts and fear-facing.
Meanwhile, want something fun to procrastinate with? Figure out which Harry Potter character you are. This was a surprising and interesting result:
Maybe we should qualify that.
I may not care much about what people en masse think of me,
but I care wildly about what individual people think.
I love it when they like me as I am,
and I love liking and accepting them in return,
and I'll always love Neville Longbottom.
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This Week in Reading Harry
Read: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, chapter 7
Potential Discussion Points:
Here's Hank Green comparing the public school system to Hogwarts, unfavorably, by way of cornball song.
"...and they don't put you in Hufflepuff if you're not cool
instead they sort you in the parking lot after school"
I get that second line, but the first... just WHAT ARE YOU SAYING, Hank??!!!
Say 'Everyone who isn't cool should be sorted into Hufflepuff'
one more time.
Just say it.
Erm. Anyway. I'm certainly no defender of concrete boxes and mystery lunchmeat, but Hogwarts ain't a perfect school system, either. Exhibit A: Severus Snape. See below.
1. Bad teachers. Hagrid is incompetent; Trelawney is a dangerous absurdity; and Snape, for numerous reasons, should never have been put in charge of young minds.
All of these are individuals to whom Dumbledore has extended mercy: sometimes with specific reasons, but always out of the generosity of a heart that recognizes the need for second chances. This probably saved Hagrid's life, and has lent Trelawney what little dignity she possesses—and we could talk about Snape, but it would all be spoilerific at this point—but as a policy, the Hogwarts faculty as a hospital for the screwed up and screwed over is not without its problems. Students learn nothing in Hagrid's classes after the Buckbeak episode. Trelawney is reverenced by some students as an oracle, and is hated by the rest as a fraud; either way, she's doing far more harm than good.
Snape is vicious to the point of being able to inflict lasting damage on young lives. We have limited insights into his relationship with Dumbledore, but if Dumbledore ever pulled him aside and attempted to stop him bullying Neville, we at least know it didn't work. Possibly it wasn't said, however, since it would have had to come out like, "Look, I need you and you need me, but go on bullying students and I have what it takes to land you in Azkaban." Snape knows way too much to make that a good idea. But still.
Dumbledore's 'hospital for the screwed up and screwed over' has at least one almost-unqualified success, however. SPOILERS. Moving on.
2. Professor Remus J. Lupin, D.A.D.A. The new professor's first class gives us a lot of insight—both into Lupin's character and into the art of engaging children in learning. Not a lot of professors would teach you, first thing, how to shoot a wad of gum up a poltergeist's nostril.
This class is brilliant. Lupin saves the reading and essay assignment till after he's carefully coached the class through some unforgettable experience, ensuring that he has both their attention and their respect. When Snape shames Neville in front of him, Lupin calmly displays a confidence in Neville that, as far as we know, no adult has ever given the boy. It's an immense and meaningful gift.
The result, like the gum up Peeves' nose, is a touch ethically questionable—and these are quiet hints at a SPOILERIFIC segment of Lupin's history—but is equally effective. The class laughs, and fear is conquered. It would be hard not to laugh.
3. Neville. He's had great courageous moments before, but Lupin's class is—if I recall correctly—the first opportunity he's ever had to win a fight. The fact that he's been fighting without winning for two books now is sign enough of his character; now, faced with his worst fears but having a capable teacher backing him up for the first time, he shows that his mind is perfectly up to the challenge.
The Wizarding world is lucky Neville is able to overcome the shame loaded on him by Snape (and Augusta Longbottom, for that matter). That's all I've got to say. For now, anyway.
4. The boggart. I don't know much about boggart mythology—I've never even read Susan Cooper's book—but the concept of a creature that takes on the appearance of a potential enemy's worst fear is fascinating. That would certainly be an effective form of self-defense. I wonder what happens when a boggart actually gets you? Does it just run you over and leave you fainting from terror? Or does it do like the Matrix and kill you with you own mind's tendency to make whatever it believes real?
Or maybe it makes like River and does it for you...
Third year at Hogwarts is probably a good age for dealing with this minor monster. Childhood fears are usually simpler than the fears of adults, as exemplified by Mrs. Weasley in book five.
At the moment I could probably confuse a boggart all by myself... but when I was first reading the books, I knew exactly what it would turn into if it crawled out of my closet: the low-head dam on the Wenatchee River. As a former whitewater raft guide and rescue tech, I know what happens when water hits a smooth, submerged obstacle like that. I know it almost invariably kills you if you get stuck in it, and I know how—I know the details. I used to have nightmares in the middle of the day about that thing.
I think I'd try to make it sprout a bunch of those agricultural sprinklers: the kind that rotate slowly for part of a circle and then speed back: "tchish, tchish, tchish, tchish, tchish, tch-tch-tch-tch-tch-tch-tch-tchish..." You know the type. I've always found them amusing.
