Dumbles: The Root of All Evil

Warnings: this is basically going to be a massive headcanon.

It’s no secret that I despise Dumbles. I think he’s a megalomaniacal creep who uses Hogwarts to build cults made of brainwashed children for himself. And frankly, this showed depiction of him really isn’t helped by the fact that Rowling post-canonically declared him gay. But what are Unfortunate Implications to Harry Potter? Nothing, I tell you.

I also have the firm conviction that Dumbles is the direct root of all the problems and evils in Harry Potter. All. Of. Them.

In Book One, he arranged the events so he could deliberately groom Harry, the eleven-year-old boy, to go after two adult dark wizards. This is canon. The book admitted it, although it saw nothing wrong with it. It even had Harry, our abuse victim, defend the old creep because what’s more heartwarming in children’s books than abused kids defending their abusers?

He’s also the reason why Sirius went off the rails and after Peter, and conveniently ended up in jail for twelve years so Harry wouldn’t possibly be raised by a loving godfather (who is a bit of on the psychopathic side but then, so are all the characters in Harry Potter).

For some inexplicable reason, Sirius never insisted on his innocence or asked for a rehearing even though the Minister for Magic himself made regular trips to his prison. I suspect this moronic passivity from Sirius had something to do with Dumbles too. After all, it’s not like he could’ve had Harry be raised by someone who actually cares about him (to whatever extent).

I also have this headcanon that Dumbles arranged the pre-canon events as well. He basically set up the Potters to die: when he got the prophecy from Sybill, he told the Potters to hide so Tommy would automatically assume the prophecy is about them, he offered himself as their Secret Keeper so he could more conveniently slip the information to Tommy, and he took James’ invisibility cloak at some unspecified time so it wouldn’t potentially help them when Tommy inevitably attacked. Afterwards, he dumped Harry on the Dursleys — in late October — and gave them a letter in which he insinuated things that made them treat Harry worse than they otherwise might’ve. All so Harry would be more susceptible to grooming, as abused and neglected children often are.

Of course, this pet theory is a little thin in Book Two. But that’s where this massive headcanoning comes in.

You see, I find this bit from Book Two extremely suspicious:

‘I d-didn’t know,’ sobbed Ginny. ‘I found it inside one of the books Mum got me. I th-thought someone had just left it in there and forgotten about it…’

‘Miss Weasley should go up to the hospital wing straight away,’ Dumbledore interrupted in a firm voice.

Granted, he might be worried about Ginny’s “mental health”. But this is the same dude who is deliberately and systematically grooming Harry to die like a sacrificial pig so, y’know, pardon my doubts.

Because I think Dumbles is a child-abusing creep, I think he deliberately interrupted Ginny so she wouldn’t reveal something incriminating. And I think that incriminating has something to do with Dumbles and the events in this book.

If you think about it, it’s not like we got actual evidence that it was Lucius who gave the diary to Ginny. All we got, basically, were allegations from Dumbles and Dobby and Harry.

Here’re the problems with that: Dumbles is a creepy child-abusing liar and Dobby is an abusive creep who also thinks that:

‘Albus Dumbledore is the greatest Headmaster Hogwarts has ever had. Dobby knows it, sir. Dobby has heard Dumbledore’s powers rival those of He Who Must Not Be Named at the height of his strength.’

So it wouldn’t be too far-fetched to say that he’d do anything if Dumbles asked — even going so far as defying and incriminating his own master whom he doesn’t like anyway.

As far as Harry is concerned, he blamed Lucius after Dumbles and Dobby had already implicated him. Never mind that the kid is so dumb he couldn’t think his way out of a wet paper bag.

So none of them are exactly credible evidence.

And sure, Rowling does imply that Lucius did it with his “suspicious” reactions. But you can just as easily explain his reactions away as anger because Dumbles is accusing him of things he hasn’t done and wariness because he doesn’t know what Dumbles is angling for.

And yes, Dobby does punish himself after he implicates that the diary came from Lucius but here’s the thing: maybe he didn’t punish himself because he snitched on his master but because he lied that the diary came from Lucius?

And as for Lucius, he’s a Slytherin. If they see an opportunity, obviously they’ll take advantage of it. Lucius saw the chaos happening at Hogwarts and decided to use it to get Hagrid and Dumbles kicked out, and good riddance. Two child-abusing morons gone, how sad.

If you read Book Two, you’ll notice several things: Dumbles knew by the second victim it was Tommy who was doing all the tomfoolery at his school, and he apparently knew Tommy was “enchanting” a student if not Ginny herself, and yet — he did absolutely nothing.

As I said back in Book Two: no curfews, no escorts, no safety measures, no aurors, no investigations, no warnings, no searches. Instead of doing something, he let five people and a cat get petrified, and let twelve-year-old kids take care of his problems for him and an eleven-year-old girl get groomed.

I thought this suspicious inactivity was because he knew it was Ginny doing it. And Ginny was only attacking people who had been “mean” to the precious Boy Wonder. So Dumbles knew the other students wouldn’t be in danger so long as they stayed on the Boy Wonder’s good side.

I even wrote a short chapter coda about that: Untying.

But anyway, I think that’s it for Book Two headcanoning. I finally managed to start the Canon!AU where I’ll explore this in more depth — and then have Draco murder the old creep because he deserves it.

It’ll be glorious.

The Burrow

It looked as though it had once been a large stone pigsty, but extra rooms had been added here and there until it was several storeys high and so crooked it looked as though it was held up by magic (which, Harry reminded himself, it probably was). Four or five chimneys were perched on top of the red roof.

— Harry Potter and The Chamber of Secrets (with only one secret)

These chimneys became a status symbol, with banks of tall, decorated, polygonal-shaped brick stacks becoming a distinctive feature of Tudor country houses. (Some chimneys were actually false to make it appear the owner had more fireplaces than he did.)

— The English Country House Explained by Trevor Yorke

Ha ha, that is what that was. I bet the Malfoys don’t have false chimneys, just saying~.

Tommy’s Friends

So, an important question occurred to me. In the chapter from hell — that is, chapter seventeen — of the second book, Tommy said this:

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

“You see?” he whispered. “It was a name I was already using at Hogwarts, to my most intimate friends only, of course. . . .”

Where are these intimate friends? If you think about Tommy’s prominent followers, there’s Lucius who started attending Hogwarts either twenty or twenty-one years after Tommy graduated. There’s Severus who started attending Hogwarts twenty-six years after Tommy graduated, and the same applies to Peter.

How exactly did he recruit these people? What happened to Tommy’s own peers? Did they all die? Did this ever come up in the books? Probably not.

Chapter Eighteen – Dobby’s Reward

Imprisonment? Execution?

Oh, wait. Those are rewards for me.

Let’s see if I can get this book over with by the weekend. But first, I would like to rectify myself from the previous chapter. So this happened:

Her face was white as marble, and as cold, yet her eyes were closed, so she wasn’t Petrified. . . .

And I wrote that maybe she was petrified with her eyes closed and then I belatedly remembered that no, you idiot, it’s the snake and the snake had to look you in the eyes. So obviously Ginny couldn’t have been petrified with her eyes closed.

But honestly, the eye thing was just so distracting because that little scene went like this: Harry runs to Ginny, flings his wand aside like a heroic genius, grabs her and turns her over, and it’s only after this that he goes all: “Oh, her eyes are closed so she can’t be petrified!”

When by all means, she should’ve been as stiff as a stone if she was petrified and Harry should’ve noticed this the instant he grabbed her. Her eyes shouldn’t have been the focus there. But anyway, I’m sorry about that.

Secondly, this bothered me so much that I went back and checked it. This is the whole Mirror of Erised scene in the first book:

She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair and her eyes — her eyes are just like mine, Harry thought, edging a little closer to the glass. Bright green — exactly the same shape, but then he noticed that she was crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He wore glasses, and his hair was very untidy. It stuck up at the back, just like Harry’s did.

. . . And slowly, Harry looked into the faces of the other people in the mirror and saw other pairs of green eyes like his, other noses like his, even a little old man who looked as though he had Harry’s knobbly knees . . .

The Potters smiled and waved at Harry and he stared hungrily back at them . . .

I bolded the important bits myself. So there is a mention of eyes like Harry’s and as we know Harry inherited his green eyes from his mom. So presumably, these other green eyes are Evanses.

But, I also realised several problems with this scene. The Mirror of Erised — that is, the mirror of desire — shows you what you want, not what’s true or real. So here’s the first problem: Harry doesn’t know what his parents or family look like so obviously his heart’s desire wouldn’t know that either, right? Petunia had no photographs of Lily and James in the house and all Harry has learned at this point is that he has his mother’s eyes. Because every creep feels the need to comment on it.

I already wrote before that the mirror seems to show Harry the actual Lily and James. But d’you notice something curious? The narration only makes mention of people who look like Harry and then it lumps them all into Potters, green eyes included. And I find this weird.

I mean, obviously Harry doesn’t know his mother’s maiden name. But there’re two problems with that: one) the narration isn’t Harry and two) just because he doesn’t know Lily’s maiden name it doesn’t mean that the narration couldn’t make a proper indication to the Evanses side of the family. For example, Rowling could’ve added something like:

He thought he even saw Aunt Petunia’s long neck and his mum’s red hair among the crowd of people. They must’ve been his mum’s family.

Because I’m sure even our dimwitted hero isn’t dim enough not to figure that out, even if he doesn’t know their family name is Evans.

Of course, the real problem with this exclusion of the Evanses isn’t so much Harry’s as it’s Rowling’s. Y’see, if you read Harry Potter it’s pretty obvious that Rowling doesn’t care at all about Muggles and this attitude bleeds into her every character who is supposed to be a bastion of tolerance and inclusion. This is how you get the hi-lar-i-ous dichotomy of Hagrid attacking an eleven-year-old Muggle boy for something his dad said to him getting outraged about Draco calling Hermione a Mudblood. Because, yeah.

So to be fair, the green eyes could indicate Evanses even though narratively they were all lumped into Potters. But here comes the third problem I realised: Harry doesn’t actually much care about the Potters, either.

Ask yourself this: has Harry ever put any effort into finding out anything about his family? For example, Hagrid gave him photos of his parents which he got from their mythical friends, but Harry never asked who these friends were so he could send them owls and ask them for stories about his parents. He hasn’t even mentioned the photobook since then.

Like, other characters occasionally mention stuff about James or Lily but Harry just — he never asks anything, he never tries to find out anything, he never does anything. So you get this weird dichotomy where he occasionally has rage fits over his deceased family that supposedly shows how much he cares about them, but there’s just nothing that actually supports it. It’s just lip service.

But anyway! Let’s finally move on to the actual chapter.

Harry, however, was looking past them. Professor Dumbledore was standing by the mantelpiece, beaming . . .

Oh, joy. The greatest headmaster that wasn’t is back. On the same day that Harry took care of the problem, isn’t that an Unfortunate Coincidence? I bet he’s beaming because he no longer has to directly groom Harry to be a suicidal twit.

. . . next to Professor McGonagall, who was taking great, steadying gasps, clutching her chest.

Someone give the woman smelling salts.

“You saved her! You saved her! How did you do it?”

HARRY: I begged god for help. And what d’you know, god helped! Which is a good thing ’cause I didn’t prepare myself at all for anything. This really raises the question of how useless the rest of you arseholes are.

Then he started telling them everything. For nearly a quarter of an hour he spoke into the rapt silence . . .

A quarter of an hour. That’s fifteen minutes.

*starts laughing uncontrollably*

Oh my god, these characters did so little and so little happened in this book that Harry recounts the entire thing in fifteen minutes.

That’s it. Rowling’s taking the piss.

And seriously:

. . . he told them about hearing the disembodied voice, how Hermione had finally realised that he was hearing a Basilisk in the pipes; how he and Ron had followed the spiders into the Forest, that Aragog had told them where the last victim of the Basilisk had died; how he had guessed that Moaning Myrtle had been the victim, and that the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets might be in her bathroom…

This is the summary of the entire book. Does this sound like a good story to you? Really read it and tell me, what did these characters actually do?

“. . . but how on earth did you all get out of there alive, Potter?”

Because the author wrote it that way.

. . . But then he faltered. He had so far avoided mentioning Riddle’s diary — or Ginny. She was standing with her head against Mrs Weasley’s shoulder, and tears were still coursing silently down her cheeks. What if they expelled her? Harry thought in a panic. Riddle’s diary didn’t work any more… How could they prove it had been he who’d made her do it all?

I don’t know if this is because my patience was completely obliterated in the previous chapter when Tommy just wouldn’t shut the fuck up and actually do something, or because Ginny has been such a nonpresence throughout this entire book, but I just — I don’t care. I don’t care about her misery. And I still prefer the headcanon that she’s faking it or actually feeling it for other reasons.

And to reiterate myself, Tommy didn’t make her do it all. Tommy didn’t force her to write in the diary. Tommy didn’t want her to write in the diary. Tommy was just a book, pieces of paper, and magical ink. He had no power, aside from what Ginny gave to him.

Ginny is the one who wrote in the diary. Ginny is the one who didn’t stop writing in the diary. Ginny is the one who went back after the diary like an addict looking for a fix and started writing in it again even when she knew “Tommy was controlling her”. She didn’t try to come clean until her life was in danger.

I just think it’s ridiculous to deny Ginny’s agency when the other thing is an inanimate book that can’t do anything if no one’s writing in it. Regardless of what it is, she got something from that diary and Tommy.

It kind of feels like Rowling was trying to rip off The Lord of the Rings without understanding what the One Ring and Sauron were. But I don’t know, she did claim she’s never read any fantasy books in an interview or something, didn’t she?

Instinctively, Harry looked at Dumbledore, who smiled faintly, the firelight glancing off his half-moon spectacles.

“What interests me most,” said Dumbledore gently, “is how Lord Voldemort managed to enchant Ginny, when my sources tell me he is currently in hiding in the forests of Albania.”

Relief — warm, sweeping, glorious relief — swept over Harry.

…..there are no words to express how much I despise Dumbles.

So, let’s start with the first book: Dumbles knew everything — and I do mean everything — that was happening in it. And he did absolutely nothing about any of it, aside from grooming an eleven-year-old boy to go after two adult dark wizards.

In this book, Dumbles knew it was Tommy doing all this tomfoolery and it would seem he deduced he’s been enchanting a student — if not Ginny herself. And what did Dumbles do? Well, unlike Rowling I trust you’re intelligent enough to know the answer to that yourself.

And instead of asking the pertinent question — such as: Hold up, Dumbles! If you knew what was going on, why didn’t you intervene and help the eleven-year-old girl being groomed? — Harry feels relief. And not just any relief! He feels “warm, sweeping, glorious relief”.

Someone tell me, in plain fucking English, what has Dumbles DONE that makes everyone think he’s the greatest wizard ever? Because this is honestly just creepy; it makes me think he’s drugging the entire Wizarding world with an iteration of imperius.

As far as I’m concerned, Dumbles and Tommy are just two sides of the same shitty coin. Which could’ve been interesting if Rowling actually acknowledged it. But nope, instead I have to suffer the Brainless Cult of Dumbles.

“Very few people know that Lord Voldemort was once called Tom Riddle. I taught him myself, fifty years ago, at Hogwarts. He disappeared after leaving the school… travelled far and wide… sank so deeply into the Dark Arts, consorted with the very worst of our kind, underwent so many dangerous, magical transformations, that when he resurfaced as Lord Voldemort, he was barely recognisable. Hardly anyone connected Lord Voldemort with the clever, handsome boy who was once Head Boy here.”

And not once did you think of making this public knowledge, Dumbles? And not one of these brainless twits thinks this information could’ve come in handy earlier? No? Okay then.

“Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can’t see where it keeps its brain.”

Somehow, this amused me endlessly. You’ve probably noticed by now that my opinion of these books isn’t high — to put it mildly. In my opinion, there’s this weird anti-intellectual and especially anti-freethinker slant in these books. So if you just remove half of this sentence:

“Never trust anything that can think for itself . . .”

I got myself the fourth quote that encapsulates the spirit of these books. ♡ I’m becoming half-convinced that Rowling’s actually taking the piss.

“I d-didn’t know,” sobbed Ginny. “I found it inside one of the books Mum got me. I th-thought someone had just left it in there and forgotten about it…”

“Miss Weasley should go up to the hospital wing straight away,” Dumbledore interrupted in a firm voice.

Since I think Dumbles is a piece of shit no different from Tommy, I find this abrupt interruption quite suspicious. I don’t know what he’s trying to stop Ginny from revealing, but I honestly have this feeling that Dumbles arranged the events in this book as well.

“There has been no lasting harm done,” said Dumbledore.

So — what’s the point of these books? Look, it’s not that I want children to suffer lasting harm or anything. But they go through these insane things and some character development from that would be nice. Instead, a wooden doll in The Adventures of Pinocchio has had more character development in ten chapters than any of the Harry Potter characters in the entirety of two books. And Pinocchio started off as an obnoxious brat, but I’ll make its own post about that later.

“I seem to remember telling you both that I would have to expel you if you broke any more school rules,” said Dumbledore.

Our twelfth mention of expulsion and no one has been kicked out yet. This is tediously repetitive.

I wonder if I should write a fic where Harry gets expelled myself. I have about three major Harry Potter fics I want to — or at least hope to — write. One would be this complete re-write of the entire series where Harry gets sorted into Slytherin. Another idea I had is this canon!AU where he befriends Draco before they go to Hogwarts but gets sorted into Gryffindor. And one idea is an AU of Tommy’s fifth year and Hagrid’s third year where I want to explore that idea of them having been friends during that year. I already did a sort of rough draft of it: Betwixt if anyone is interested, ha ha.

I wanted it to have this undercurrent of ominosity but it seems I failed. Because two people I know kindly read it for me and they both said it was cute, ha ha. The other person said the cuteness might’ve been inevitable because of Hagrid and I said, is it? I don’t find Hagrid cute. He’s on my list of murderable characters.

“Am I a Professor?” said Lockhart in mild surprise. “Goodness. I expect I was hopeless, was I?”

You know, I still like Gilderoy. It’s not his fault he has a terrible creator who hates blondes. I’ll try to come up with something nice for him. And who knows, maybe someday I’ll write that AU where he’s Harry’s overbearing but efficient manager, ha ha.

If I’ll ever write anything again, that is.

“He tried to do a Memory Charm and the wand backfired,” Ron explained quietly to Dumbledore.

“Dear me,” said Dumbledore, shaking his head, his long silver moustache quivering. “Impaled upon your own sword, Gilderoy!”

Tee hee hee~ I R O N Y.

Also, does this imply that Dumbles knew Gilderoy is a fraud who’s been Obliviating people left and right and centre?

“First of all, Harry, I want to thank you,” said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling again. “You must have shown me real loyalty down in the Chamber. Nothing but that could have called Fawkes to you.”

Dumbles makes me feel sick. Like, actually sick. He’s such a creepy, megalomaniacal control-freak who does absolutely nothing yet gets all the credit for some unfathomable reason, and instead he grooms children! to become his mindless pawns, drones and cult followers. If this is Rowling’s idea of a god, then thanks, but I’ll pass.

“Professor Dumbledore… Riddle said I’m like him. Strange likeness, he said…”

“I don’t think I’m like him!” said Harry, more loudly than he’d intended. “I mean, I’m — I’m in Gryffindor, I’m…”

“Professor,” he started again after a moment, “the Sorting Hat told me I’d — I’d have done well in Slytherin. Everyone thought I was Slytherin’s heir for a while… because I can speak Parseltongue…”

Harry, your school house does not, in fact, magically alter who you are as a person. If you actually think it does and you don’t want to be in Slytherin because you think all Slytherins are evil, then the problem is very much you.

As far as Sally goes, you have a thousand years between you so, Harry, seriously, get over yourself.

“. . .Unless I’m much mistaken, he transferred some of his own powers to you the night he gave you that scar. Not something he intended to do, I’m sure…”

“Voldemort put a bit of himself in me?” Harry said thunderstruck.

“It certainly seems so.”

“So I should be in Slytherin,” Harry said, looking desperately into Dumbledore’s face.

That’s the part you focus on?

This kid makes me despair.

. . . “Listen to me, Harry. You happen to have many qualities Salazar Slytherin prized in his hand-picked students. His own very rare gift, Parseltongue… resourcefulness… determination… a certain disregard for rules,” he added, his moustache quivering again.

Ha ha ha, Harry might certainly have determination when the plot finally demands it but he’s the furthest thing from resourceful.

“Yet the Sorting Hat placed you in Gryffindor. You know why that was. Think.”

“It only put me in Gryffindor,” said Harry in a defeated voice, “because I asked not to go in Slytherin…”

“Exactly,” said Dumbledore, beaming once more. “Which makes you very different from Tom Riddle. It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.”

The both of you disgust me.

This is the headmaster of this school. This child grooming creep who shows gross favouritism towards Gryffindors, and facilitates gross prejudice and discrimination against Slytherins.

Think of it this way if you may: Dumbles says Harry is different from Tommy not because the little dimwit chose Gryffindor but because he rejected Slytherin. And then these idiots actually have the arrogance to wonder why Slytherins won’t just get in line and worship Dumbles.

Maybe because he’s a piece of shit?

“. . . while I write to Azkaban — we need our gamekeeper back.”

Noooo.

“And I must draft an advertisement for the Daily Prophet, too,” he added thoughtfully. “We’ll be needing a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Dear me, we do seem to run through them, don’t we?”

And that wouldn’t have something to do with you choosing people whose lives you want to ruin?

Also, come to think of it. Shouldn’t Dumbles as “the greatest wizard ever” know that this position is cursed? And this is one more thing he does nothing about.

. . . when the door burst open so violently that it bounced back off the wall.

Lucius Malfoy stood there, fury in his face. And cowering under his arm, heavily wrapped in bandages, was Dobby.

I can honestly say that a door bouncing back into your face doesn’t make for a dramatic entrance, ha ha.

Also… yay… Dobby, the little creep, is back.

Here’s a fun fact: sociopaths try to make you pity them.

. . . Dobby went scurrying after him, crouching at the hem of his cloak, a look of abject terror on his face.

You know what’s actually disgusting about this? Dobby would totally do this same thing with Harry:

Dobby went scurrying after him, crouching at the hem of his cloak, a look of complete rapture on his face.

And Rowling would see absolutely nothing wrong with this.

“. . . They’d heard that Arthur Weasley’s daughter had been killed and wanted me back here at once. They seemed to think I was the best man for the job after all. . . .”

To repeat myself, again: no curfews, no escorts, no safety measures, no Aurors, no investigations, no warnings, no searches. Instead, Dumbles knew it was Tommy all along by the second victim and apparently even knew he was “enchanting” a student. Instead of doing something, he let five people and a cat get petrified, and let twelve-year-old kids take care of his problems for him and an eleven-year-old girl get groomed. But hey, Dumbles knows all about grooming, doesn’t he? It’s just he has a preference for young boys.

“So — have you stopped the attacks yet?” he sneered. “Have you caught the culprit?”

“We have,” said Dumbledore, with a smile.

What’s that “we”? You and your teachers didn’t do anything.

“A clever plan,” said Dumbledore . . . “Because if Harry here–” . . . “and his friend Ron hadn’t discovered this book, why — Ginny Weasley might have taken all the blame. No one would ever have been able to prove she hadn’t acted of her own free will…”

“And imagine . . . what might have happened… The Weasleys are one of our most prominent pure-blood families. Imagine the effect on Arthur Weasley and his Muggle Protection Act, if his own daughter was discovered attacking and killing Muggle-borns. . . .”

That actually is a clever plan. And it even got Dumbles and Hagrid kicked out! Not to mention there were no irreversible victims and all Ginny would’ve got is expulsion. Lucius is so clever and active and actually resourceful, I like him.

Y’know, maybe the Slytherins are so popular because they seem to be the only characters with any actual agency?

Also, yeah, the Weasleys are such a prominent pureblood family Ron doesn’t even know if all of his family is pureblood.

The elf was doing something very odd. His great eyes fixed meaningfully on Harry, he kept pointing at the diary, then at Mr Malfoy, and then hitting himself hard on the head with his fist.

And still, behind his back, Dobby was pointing, first to the diary, then to Lucius Malfoy, then punching himself in the head.

And Harry suddenly understood. He nodded at Dobby, and Dobby backed into a corner, now twisting his ears in punishment.

You’re extremely slow, aren’t you, Harry?

Harry grabbed the diary and dashed out of the office. . . . Harry took off one of his shoes, pulled off his slimy, filthy sock, and stuffed the diary into it. . . .

He forced the smelly sock into Lucius Malfoy’s hand.

Mr Malfoy ripped the sock off the diary, threw it aside, then looked furiously from the ruined book to Harry.

So he didn’t even need the diary for this plan? And oh my god, I think this was Harry’s first plan. He’s evolving!

“Dobby has got a sock,” said Dobby in disbelief. “Master threw it, and Dobby caught it, and Dobby — Dobby is free.”

Seriously? Lucius threw the sock wherever and Dobby apparently caught it from air and this qualifies as giving it to him? If it’s this easy for the house-elves to get free, then how are they enslaved?

“Harry Potter freed Dobby!” said the elf shrilly, gazing up at Harry, moonlight from the nearest window reflected in his orb-like eyes. “Harry Potter set Dobby free!”

“Least I could do, Dobby,” said Harry, grinning. “Just promise never to try and save my life again.”

The elf’s ugly brown face split suddenly into a wide, toothy smile.

Harry, you are the stupidest character I’ve ever had the displeasure to read about — and this includes the girl from Kiss in the Blue whom I wanted to get stabbed to death, the brainless sex doll in A Guy Like You whom I wanted to die, and the two toxic morons in Life is Strange.

Dobby is nothing to you. Dobby threatened and blackmailed you with your own letters, got you imprisoned and starved for days, almost quadriplegied and murdered you, and didn’t have a single ounce of respect towards you or your wants.

You get what you tolerate and what you tolerate is what you deserve.

“You told me all this had nothing to do with He Who Must Not Be Named, remember? Well–“

“It was a clue, sir,” said Dobby, his eyes widening, as though this was obvious. “Dobby was giving you a clue. The Dark Lord, before he changed his name, could be freely named, you see?”

That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, you useless creature.

. . . Harry didn’t know whether the best bit was Hermione running towards him, screaming, “You solved it! You solved it!” . . .

You literally gave him the answer. By the power of plot, even Harry can’t be that useless.

. . . Draco was no longer strutting around the school as though he owned the place.

So he’s Draco again now?

On the other hand, Ginny Weasley was perfectly happy again.

Well, she certainly got quickly over her part in the events.

. . . and practised disarming each other by magic. Harry was getting very good at it.

Thank you. That wasn’t so hard, now was it?

“. . . He was so upset when she was — you know — attacked. . . .”

That’s a nice passive way you put that, Ginny.

“. . . I can’t stand another two months with only Dudley to talk to…”

You don’t talk. All you do is bully each other.

Well, that’s it for this book. This last one was a bit uninspired but, well, these last chapters are always just a rehash of the current book anyway as if I just didn’t finish reading it. And well, I was tired. My English never works well when I’m tired.

Harry’s spell count so far: three.

“Harry — you’re a great wizard, you know.”

Chapter Seventeen – The Heir of Slytherin

The second to last chapter!!!!

He pulled out his wand and moved forward between the serpentine columns.

I don’t know if I should be proud Harry’s finally thinking of defending himself with his wand or wonder why he didn’t have it in his hand in the first place? I mean, when did he put it away? I’d assume he’d still need it for light?

He kept his eyes narrowed, ready to clamp them shut at the smallest sign of movement.

I really don’t see what good this would do. It’s a giant snake. It’s extremely poisonous. It could bite Harry’s head off, crush him, suffocate him, or simply poison him. Which it actually did later.

On that thought, you know what Harry should’ve got himself? Reflective glasses — like those one-way mirrors that reflect from one side and are transparent from the other.

Would those have helped? I dunno, but it would’ve been better than doing nothing and getting deus ex machinaed out of your shoddy nonpreparations.

Harry had to crane his neck to look up into the giant face above: it was ancient and monkey-like . . .

Marcus is trollish, Millicent is hag-like, and apparently Sally is monkey-like. Please, Rowling, tell me aaaall about dehumanisation.

He flung his wand aside . . .

How is this kid not dead yet? Oh, right. ‘Cause of “love”.

Her face was white as marble, and as cold, yet her eyes were closed, so she wasn’t Petrified. . . .

Maybe she was Petrified with her eyes closed? Like, come on, Harry. Aren’t you capable of even the most basic logic? Also, if she was petrified wouldn’t you have noticed it the instant you touched her and lifted her up? Since she’d be as stiff as a stone?

“She’s still alive,” said Riddle. “But only just.”

You had an entire year and a day to suck up her life or soul or whatever. Dude, what’ve you been doing?

“A memory,” said Riddle quietly. “Preserved in a diary for fifty years.”

Speaking of dude, what’re you doing, less talking and more killing. Don’t you remember what happened in the previous book? Why are you this stupid and incompetent? Like, are there people who actually take Tommy seriously? I mean, are there people who actually think he’s scary?

Because he’s such a useless and pathetic blundering moron I just — I can’t imagine it. But if Rowling’s main characters are useless, I guess it makes sense her villains are equally useless.

. . . Harry, sweating, managed to hoist Ginny half off the floor, and bent to pick up his wand again.

But his wand had gone.

Oh, gosh! I wonder how that ever happened! Oh, that’s right. You threw it away.

How is this kid not dead yet? I demand karmic Darwinian justice in these books!

He looked up. Riddle was still watching him — twirling Harry’s wand between his long fingers.

DUDE. LESS INTENSE STARING AND MORE INTENSE KILLING.

This book just goes on and on and on and on and on and on. *cries* Like, Tommy is acting like a complete moron who inexplicably can’t just murder the brat or turn him into a chicken or whatever. Or a rooster, that would’ve been hilarious. And Harry is acting like a complete moron who can’t catch a hint. Stop. Wasting. My. Time. Book.

“I’ve waited a long time for this, Harry Potter,” said Riddle. “For the chance to see you. To speak to you.”

“We’re going to talk now,” said Riddle, still smiling broadly, and he pocketed Harry’s wand.

Oh my god.

“How did Ginny get like this?” he asked slowly.

“Well, that’s an interesting question,” said Riddle pleasantly. “And quite a long story. I suppose the real reason Ginny Weasley’s like this is because she opened her heart and spilled all her secrets to an invisible stranger.”

Oh my fucking god.

“What are you talking about?” said Harry.

“The diary,” said Riddle. “My diary. Little Ginny’s been writing in it for months and months, telling me all her pitiful worries and woes: how her brothers tease her, how she had to come school with second-hand robes and books, how–” Riddle’s eyes glinted “–how she didn’t think famous, good, great Harry Potter would ever like her…”

All the time he spoke, Riddle’s eyes never left Harry’s face. There was an almost hungry look in them.

OH MY FUCKING GOD.

I’m too tired for this shite. That’s it for today. *goes back to reading The Adventures of Pinocchio*

“It’s very boring, having to listen to the silly little troubles of an eleven-year-old girl,” he went on.

That’s boring? THAT’S boring? IMAGINE HOW BORING IT IS TO READ SIX FUCKING PAGES!!!! OF AN INCOMPETENT VILLAIN MONOLOGUING ON THEIR INCOMPETENT VILLAINY. While our dimwit hero Harry is nothing but a prop so Tommy can explain the W H O L E book to the audience. It’s when these books get to these moments that I feel my will to live die a slow agonising death.

Maybe that’s why Ginny’s dying so slowly. Tommy wanted to talk her to death.

“If I say it myself, Harry, I’ve always been able to charm the people I needed.”

I really fail to see how. You’re stupid, you’re incompetent, you’re pathetic, you’re inefficient. What have you actually achieved? That we’ve been shown. Oh, that’s right. Nothing. Because you just can’t murder the bane of your existence as soon as the dimwit steps through the door and he’s unaware of your presence.

“What d’you mean?” said Harry, whose mouth had gone very dry.

“Haven’t you guessed yet, Harry Potter?” said Riddle softly. . . .

This is hell.

If you want a picture of hell, imagine a villain soliloquying their villainy — for ever.

“No,” Harry whispered.

“Yes,” said Riddle, calmly.

I don’t know why, but this exchange is hilarious.

“It took a very long time for stupid little Ginny to stop trusting her diary,” said Riddle. . . .

No, like, seriously, dude? Is this how you lost the first time?

TOMMY: Ah, Harry Potter. At last. How I have searched for you, my nemesis! Tonight, you shall die!

HARRY: A-da.

TOMMY: But first, I must tell you of the long arduous journey it took me to get here! I want you to know exactly what I did, how I did, to whom I did, and why I did, so you can truly appreciate my evil villainy if I say so myself!

HARRY: A-ga.

LILY: Um, could you please stop trying to murder my son?

TOMMY: Silence, you Mudblood wench! I’m talking, and talking, and talking, and talking, and talking, and talking, and talking, and talking, and talking.

“And why did you want to meet me?” said Harry. . . . 

“Well, you see, Ginny told me all about you, Harry,” said Riddle. . . .

NO SERIOUSLY DUDE. WRITE A VERY SPECIAL MEMO.

“. . . So I decided to show you my famous capture of that great oaf, Hagrid, to gain your trust.”

“Evening, Rubeus,” said Riddle sharply.

“What yer doin’ down here, Tom?”

So he’s gone back to Hagrid?

“It was my word against Hagrid’s, Harry. . . .”

Oh my gooood. *starts crying out of sheer abject tedium*

If this is the standard you have, this is the standard you get.

“On the one hand, Tom Riddle, poor but brilliant, parentless but so brave, school Prefect, model student . . .”

I can with utmost honesty say that’s not my image of you at all.

“. . . on the other hand, big, blundering Hagrid, in trouble every other week, trying to raise werewolf cubs under his bed . . .”

“. . . trying to raise werewolf cubs under his bed . . .”

“. . . trying to raise werewolf cubs . . .”

“. . . werewolf cubs . . .”

Please, do tell me all about what great world building Harry Potter has.

“But I admit, even I was surprised how well the plan worked. I thought someone must realise that Hagrid couldn’t possibly be the heir of Slytherin. It had taken me five whole years to find out everything I could about the Chamber of Secrets and discover the secret entrance… as though Hagrid had the brains, or the power!”

That’s because everyone in these books is brainless.

Also, when and how did Tommy find out he’s the heir of Slytherin? Or did he just make a lucky guess?

And, er, Tommy, opening the chamber requires neither brains nor power. Even Harry managed to open it and I’m sure we can both agree that the kid doesn’t have either of those things.

“Only the Transfiguration teacher, Dumbledore, seemed to think Hagrid was innocent. . . .”

He just won’t shut up. He literally just won’t shut the fuck up.

“I bet Dumbledore saw right through you,” said Harry, his teeth gritted.

“Well, he certainly kept an annoyingly close watch on me after Hagrid was expelled,” said Riddle carelessly. . . .

And in true Dumbledore fashion! He did nothing about it! But hey, at least he was monitoring the situation.

“Haven’t I already told you,” said Riddle quietly . . .

Well, it’s a little hard to tell what you have and haven’t told already with you talking incessantly. And considering the way Tommy carries on, I’m amazed Ginny isn’t dead by now. I want one of them to die already — I don’t care who. Preferably them all.

“. . . that killing Mudbloods doesn’t matter to me any more? . . .”

That’s good to hear because frankly, man, you suck at it.

“From everything Ginny had told me about you, I knew you would go to any lengths to solve the mystery — particularly if one of your best friends was attacked. . . .”

Ha ha ha ha, oh, I think you both way overestimated this kid’s initiative and smarts.

“Well,” said Riddle, smiling pleasantly, “how is it that a baby with no extraordinary magical talent managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did you escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort’s powers were destroyed?”

I dunno, ’cause your only extraordinary talent is yakking away ad nauseam?

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

“You see?” he whispered. “It was a name I was already using at Hogwarts, to my most intimate friends only, of course. . . .”

And they didn’t laugh at you? Man, those must’ve been some great friends you got there.

…..oh gods, now I’m imagining a club of gothic teens coming up with edgy fake names for themselves.

“I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me even before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch?”

Dude, the real issue was that your mother was a mind-raping rapist.

Also, this could’ve been interesting. Tommy is hating his dad, and as a consequence all Muggles, because he thinks his dad abandoned his mom for being a witch. It’s a reason for what he feels and why he feels it, which is a good thing. But of course, Rowling does absolutely nothing with it.

“Not the greatest sorcerer in the world,” said Harry, breathing fast. “Sorry to disappoint you, and all that, but the greatest wizard in the world is Albus Dumbledore. Everyone says so. . . .”

Well gosh! If everyone says so, it must be true!

“. . . Even when you were strong, you didn’t dare try and take over at Hogwarts. Dumbledore saw through you when you were at school and he still frightens you now, wherever you’re hiding these days.”

Can’t imagine why since Dumbles hasn’t done a single fucking thing. Well, aside from that small matter of grooming Harry to die like a sacrificial pig. That he’s doing exemplarily.

And you know, I’ll talk more about this when I get to Book Six.

“To business, Harry,” said Riddle, still smiling broadly.

Wouldn’t that be the day.

“Twice — in your past, in my future — we have met. And twice I failed to kill you. How did you survive? Tell me everything. The longer you talk,” he added softly, “the longer you stay alive.”

Maybe the dimwit survived because you spend more time talking at him than murdering him? But hey, what do I know?

“A lot of the greatest wizards haven’t got an ounce of logic, they’d be stuck in here for ever.”

I’m not a “great wizard”.

But the longer Riddle stood there, the more life was dwindling out of Ginny…

No, seriously. How is she not dead yet? How much life can an eleven-year-old girl possibly have? One of these characters should just die already and by this point I would really prefer if it were all of them.

“My common Muggle-born mother,” he added, shaking with suppressed rage.

Oh fuck you, Harry, ha ha. Get off your high horse. You don’t care a single fucking whit about your common Muggle-born mother’s side of the family. You know, the Muggles? Remind me again, where were the Evanses when you were admiring your family in the Mirror of Erised last year? Oh, that’s right. No where.

“So. Your mother died to save you. Yes, that’s a powerful counter-charm. I can see now — there is nothing special about you, after all. . . .”

THANK YOU.

. . . Then he heard Riddle’s hissing voice: “Kill him.”

Considering the snake didn’t kill most of the people fifty years ago or any of the people currently, does that mean he never actually gave it the order to kill them? I’ll go with this headcanon because it’s more interesting.

Something very hard and heavy thudded onto the top of Harry’s head, almost knocking him out.

Did it give him a concussion? No? Fine. Be that way.

A gleaming silver sword had appeared inside the Hat, its handle glittering with rubies the size of eggs.

I’m surprised this sword wasn’t made of gold as well.

“Kill the boy! Leave the bird! The boy is behind you! Sniff — smell him!“

Tommy, snakes aren’t dogs. They smell with their tongues. Also, stop yelling at it and start helping it, you moron. Someone should put you back to villain school.

. . . Harry threw his whole weight behind the sword and drove it to the hilt into the roof of the serpent’s mouth.

Good for you, Harry! You actually did something! Of course, there is still the problem that you didn’t prepare yourself at all before you went to the chamber, and instead, literally begged for god to help you. And did the god in the machine ever deliver!

“You’re dead, Harry Potter,” said Riddle’s voice above him. “Dead. Even Dumbledore’s bird knows it. Do you see what he’s doing, Potter? He’s crying.”

I bet he’s crying at the absolute abyss of your stupidity.

“So ends the famous Harry Potter,” said Riddle’s distant voice. . . .

And he. still. won’t. shut. the. fuck. up. Harry, grab that fang and throw it at him!

And seriously, man, you don’t know anything about phoenixes? What kind of a “greatest sorcerer” are you?

. . . Instead of going black, the Chamber seemed to be coming back into focus.

Come to think of it, Harry’s glasses. He already went through one cave-in and do you know what cave-ins mean? Dust! He’s tripped and been smashed against the wall. More dirt! And possibly cracks!

How’s he seeing anything with those glasses?

Then, in a rush of wings, Fawkes soared back overhead and something fell into Harry’s lap — the diary.

For a split second, both Harry and Riddle, wand still raised, stared at it. Then, without thinking, without considering, as though he had meant to do it all along, Harry seized the Basilisk fang on the floor next to him and plunged it straight into the heart of the book.

And through into his thigh. Oh, the irony.

I guess this is good because this is the second thing Harry has actually done — but even this had to be literally dropped into his lap.

And I actually feel more sorry for the snake than any of these dumbasses.

“Harry — oh, Harry — I tried to tell you at b-breakfast, but I c-couldn’t say it in front of Percy. . . .”

The hell d’you think your brother would do to you? What is the problem with all of these arseholes when it comes to Percy? Besides, if she thought Percy was suspecting her and she’s trying to come clean, then what the fuck does it matter if Percy’s there to hear?

“It was me, Harry — but I — I s-swear I d-didn’t mean to — R-Riddle made me, he t-took me over . . .”

Ah, yeah. A book made you. A book took you over. A book that couldn’t do anything to you if you’d stopped writing in it. Even when you tossed it away, you went back after it like an addict looking for a fix. Remember, she started writing into it again. She wasn’t just taking it from Harry for fear of him finding out that it’d been her all along.

“I’m going to be expelled!” Ginny wept . . . 

Yeah, because that’s going to be your biggest problem.

“. . . I’ve looked forward to coming to Hogwarts ever since B-Bill came . . .”

You were a year old when Bill started Hogwarts (Bill was born in November, 1970, which means that by some stupid rule he would’ve started Hogwarts in 1982 instead 1981). Hey Rowling, children don’t start developing explicit memories until they’re four. Stop making your year-old characters into super-babies.

“. . . w-what’ll Mum and Dad say?“

You’re the greatest disappointment of our vigorous sex life? And boy, do we have lots to compare you with.

After a few minutes’ progress up the dark tunnel, a distant sound of slowly shifting rock reached Harry’s ears.

You wanna swear on that?

Soon the distant noise of Ron straining to shift the rocks was gone. The tunnel turned and turned again. . . . He wanted the tunnel to end, yet dreaded what he’d find when it did. And then, at last, as he crept around yet another bend, he saw a solid wall ahead on which two entwined serpents were carved, their eyes set with great, glinting emeralds.

I might be wrong but it doesn’t sound like a couple of minutes’ trip.

“Ron!” Harry yelled, speeding up. “Ginny’s OK! I’ve got her!”

He heard Ron give a strangled cheer and they turned the next bend to see his eager face staring through the sizeable gap he had managed to make in the rock fall.

“Ginny!” Ron thrust an arm through the gap in the rock to pull her through first. “You’re alive! I don’t believe it! What happened?”

He tried to hug her but Ginny held him off, sobbing.

Aw, Ron’s such a cute big brother.

“And how come you’ve got a sword?” said Ron, gaping at the glittering weapon in Harry’s hand.

‘Cause heaven knows he can’t do a thing with his wand.

. . . Gilderoy Lockhart was sitting there, humming placidly to himself.

“His memory’s gone,” said Ron. “The Memory Charm backfired. Hit him instead of us. Hasn’t got a clue who he is, or where he is, or who we are. . . .”

Tee hee hee~ I R O N Y.

Think of it this way, if you may. Rowling created this character for the sole purpose that she could do this to him? For no plot-related reasons, because Gilderoy was in no shape or form relevant to the plot. This is the same with Draco, whom she characterised for the sole purpose that she could then give all the things he wanted to Harry. This is some next level character creation, I say.

“He looks like he wants you to grab hold…” said Ron, looking perplexed. “But you’re much too heavy for a bird to pull up there.”

“Fawkes,” said Harry, “isn’t an ordinary bird.” He turned quickly to the others. “We’ve got to hold on to each other. Ginny, grab Ron’s hand. Professor Lockhart–“

“He means you,” said Ron sharply to Lockhart.

“You hold Ginny’s other hand.”

Just because Fawkes is no ordinary bird it doesn’t mean that there’s any way that an eleven-year-old girl can pull the weight of an adult man.

But hey, magic. It’s magical.

Harry knocked and pushed the door open.

Oh sweet heavens, it’s over. I thought it’d never end. And now I have only one more chapter to go!

*checks the title of the next chapter*

Oh, you [censored].

Harry’s spell count so far: three.

“Harry — you’re a great wizard, you know.”

Chapter Sixteen – The Chamber of Secrets

“All those times we were in that bathroom, and she was just three toilets away,” said Ron bitterly at breakfast next day, “and we could’ve asked her, and now…”

Yeah. Imagine that.

It had been hard enough trying to look for spiders. Escaping their teachers long enough to sneak into a girls’ bathroom, the girls’ bathroom, moreover, right next to the scene of the first attack, was going to be almost impossible.

Use your Invisibility Cloak? Like — why are these characters so stupid?

“The whole point of keeping the school open at this time is for you to receive your education,” she said sternly. “The exams will therefore take place as usual, and I trust you are all revising hard.”

Oh, yeah. Sure. Hogwarts is just really into education.

(Maybe the reason why these characters are so stupid is because this school isn’t conducive to learning.)

. . . It had never occurred to Harry that there would be exams with the castle in this state. . . . 

“Professor Dumbledore’s instructions were to keep the school running as normally as possible,” she said. “And that, I need hardly point out, means finding out how much you have learned this year.”

Why, though? Six people have been petrified and you aren’t any closer to finding the culprit, the monster, or the chamber. Why couldn’t you send the kids home and offer them distance education?

Since this irritates me, I’ll headcanon this: Dumbles knows that Ginny was the Real Dark Wizardess All Along. She petrified Argus’ cat because he was going to punish Harry for being a slop, she petrified Colin for acting like an annoying creepy stalker, she petrified Justin for having a hissy fit over the heir of Slytherin thing and blaming Harry for it, and she petrified Hermione to weasel her way in between the Golden Trio and because she was catching onto her. Nicholas and Penelope were just collateral damage.

So Dumbles knows the other students aren’t in any danger from her, so long as they aren’t “mean” to the Wondrous Boy Wonder.

Harry looked down at the pair of white rabbits he was supposed to be turning into slippers. . . .

I’m ever so glad that these animal abuses are the only lessons we get to hear about.

When the hubbub had subsided, Professor McGonagall said, “Professor Sprout has informed me that the Mandrakes are ready for cutting at last. Tonight, we will be able to revise those people who have been Petrified. I need hardly remind you all that one of them may well be able to tell us who, or what, attacked them. I am hopeful that this dreadful year will end with our catching the culprit.”

Oh, then do tell what happened to the victims who were petrified fifty years ago? Did they conveniently not see anything?

Harry suddenly realised who Ginny looked like. She was rocking backwards and forwards slightly in her chair, exactly like Dobby did when he was teetering on the edge of revealing forbidden information.

This is funny because a few chapters ago I wrote:

It was Ginny all along, acting out her stalker fangirlism and using Tommy to achieve that. She’s Dobby.

It’s fun to be validated.

“I’ve got to tell you something,” Ginny mumbled, carefully not looking at Harry.

Then why did you approach Ron when he was with Harry?

Also, Ginny is finally — after a year — trying to come clean when she herself is in danger. I guess that keeps up with the overall characterisation of all the characters in these books. Mainly that they’re all more or less selfish psychopathic morons.

“If you’ve finished eating, I’ll take that seat, Ginny. I’m starving, I’ve only just come off patrol duty.”

Because there aren’t any free seats available? How tiresomely contrived.

“Well, er, if you must know, Ginny, er, walked in one me the other day when I was — well, never mind — the point is, she spotted me doing something and I, um, I asked her not to mention it to anybody. I must say, I did think she’d keep her word. It’s nothing, really, I’d just rather–“

Okay? Didn’t Ginny just walk in on Percy snogging his girlfriend? Why is that such a big deal? Is this because these books were written in the nineties, by an author who was born in the sixties?

Like, I just don’t get why that is something Percy feels the need to hide unless he’s embarrassed of his girlfriend. Which raises the question why he’s with her in the first place. Unless he has less than honourable intentions with her.

“That’s right,” said Ron, catching on. “Why don’t you leave us here, sir, we’ve only got one more corridor to go.”

And the rest of the Gryffindors had absolutely nothing to say about Ron and Harry convincing Gilderoy to dump them?

“You know, Weasley, I think I will,” said Lockhart.

So Harry is Harry and Draco is Draco, but the rest of the students get to be called by their surnames?

“Hermione,” said Harry. Ron and Professor McGonagall both looked at him.

“We haven’t seen her for ages, Professor,” Harry went on hurriedly, treading on Ron’s foot, “and we thought we’d sneak into the hospital wing, you know, and tell her the Mandrakes are nearly ready and, er, not to worry.”

Ha ha ha. What a load of horseshit. While Ron was ready to assault Draco for Hermione and drew his resolve from her absence, Harry hasn’t thought about Hermione since they were banned from visiting her. Well, aside from this instance:

Snape swept past Harry, making no comment about Hermione’s empty seat and cauldron.

But I’m still not sure if this is Harry being a guilt-tripping weirdo or if it’s the narration hinting that Severus isn’t as bad as he seems. The narration has been weird from the beginning; it’s following Harry but it isn’t quite from Harry’s point of view.

But I seriously don’t have the faintest clue how Harry is feeling about his best friend lying petrified in the hospital wing or if he’s feeling anything at all about it. Of course, I can always assume what he’s feeling but that still doesn’t mean Harry’s actually feeling it.

. . . “Of course, I realise this has all been hardest on the friends of those who have been… I quite understand. Yes, Potter, of course you may visit Miss Granger. I will inform Professor Binns where you’ve gone. Tell Madam Pomfrey I have given my permission.”

Harry and Ron walked away, hardly daring to believe that they’d avoided detention. As they turned the corner, they distinctly heard Professor McGonagall blow her nose.

…..um? Shouldn’t you escort them, Minerva? Wasn’t that why you were all ready to rage at them for wandering around alone?

They had no choice now but to go to the hospital wing and tell Madam Pomfrey that they had Professor McGonagall’s permission to visit Hermione.

Why, though?

Madam Pomfrey let them in, but reluctantly.

“There’s just no point talking to a Petrified person,” she said . . .

Has any doctor said this about a comatose patient? “Oh, there’s no point visiting your comatose loved one so run along, will you.”

It was a page torn from a very old library book. . . .

And beneath this, a single word had been written, in a hand Harry recognised as Hermione’s. Pipes.

So not only did Hermione rip an old book, she also defaced it. Why didn’t she just write a note? Or take the whole book with her if she was that excitable? How is this consistent with her prior characterisation?

Also, the next paragraphs just made me feel deeply embarrassed. But I’m starting to learn that this is a regular occurrence as I’m re-reading these books.

It was as though somebody had just flicked a light on in his brain.

Yeah, surely that light wouldn’t have flicked on by itself. I mean, think about it this way, if you may. Rowling, literally, simply gave Hermione the answer when she realised that her little trio of detectives did absolutely no detectiving in the entire book and she was running out of pages. Hermione then, literally, gives Harry the answer because Harry is a wee little dimwit who can’t think his way out of a wet paper bag let alone do some actual i n v e s t i g a t i n g on his own. In the previous chapter, I listed several things he could’ve done instead but he didn’t do a single thing.

This is, honestly, just deeply embarrassing. This is our hero, who is so characterless, so passive, so incurious and so purposeless that he needs everything handed to him by the providence — or in this case, the author. This is the example for a generation of kids.

And then Harry goes on to explain everything he just read to the audience for the second time, as if the audience is as dumb as him.

“Ron,” he breathed, “this is it. This is the answer. The monster in the Chamber’s a Basilisk — a giant serpent!”

You. Don’t. Say. I’m ever so glad he said this because it’s not like I read this exact same information, like, two seconds ago.

“That’s why I’ve been hearing that voice all over the place, and nobody else has heard it. It’s because I understand Parseltongue…”

Yeah, that still doesn’t explain anything. To reiterate myself, as seems to be a theme in these books, you’re a Parselmouth. Not a Parselmind. If you’re hearing the snake through pipes in the stonewalls, then by all means everyone else should’ve been hearing it, too, even if they couldn’t understand what it was saying.

Harry looked up at the beds around him.

“The Basilisk kills people by looking at them. But no one’s died — because no one looked it straight in the eye. . . .”

That’s some extremely convenient get out of death free card. And it still doesn’t explain why the snake didn’t eat any of the victims, especially since it was complaining about how hungry it is.

THE BASILISK: Oh, look! A prey! Conveniently alone in this deserted corridor! I shall kill it with my deadly gaze and devour it — and oh gosh, I missed. It’s only petrified. That won’t do. I must go hunt a new one. Curse you, reflective surfaces! I thought only vampires had to contend with them!

“The Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it!” he read aloud.

You know what? I would’ve forgiven this entire book if Harry had conjured himself a rooster and gone after the basilisk armed with it. That would’ve been… that would’ve been one of the most glorious things I’ve ever seen.

I shall write it myself. It must be written! I’ll do it in that other AU I had an idea for, ha ha.

“But how’s the Basilisk been getting around the place?” said Ron. “A dirty great snake… Someone would’ve seen…”

Oh my god. You read the page together.

It was a page torn from a very old library book. Harry smoothed it out eagerly and Ron leaned close to read it too.

. . .

And beneath this, a single word had been written, in a hand Harry recognised as Hermione’s. Pipes.

Rowling, I know you were writing for children but could you please stop assuming that children are as stupid as your characters?

“Pipes,” he said. “Pipes… Ron, it’s been using the plumbing. I’ve been hearing that voice inside the walls…”

Yes, Harry. The snake was speaking loud enough that you heard it. Inside STONEWALLS.

And I have to suffer at least two more chapters of this.

“The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets!” he said hoarsely. “What if it’s a bathroom? What if it’s in–“

“–Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom,” said Harry.

You know, why would they assume it’s in Myrtle’s bathroom just because she died there? I mean, if the snake is moving around the pipes, shouldn’t it theoretically have access to every bathroom? And since I’m on this reasoning, couldn’t it come out of any bathroom depending on what floor it’s on?

“This means,” said Harry, “I can’t be the only Parselmouth in the school. The heir of Slytherin’s one, too. That’s how they’ve been controlling the Basilisk.”

Well, as I said before, I wasn’t aware that Parseltongue also gives the ability to control snakes. Too bad Harry never tried to take advantage of this, but I guess that would’ve been “evil”. Because snakes are “evil” or something.

“What’re we going to do?” said Ron, whose eyes were flashing. “Shall we go straight to McGonagall?”

“Let’s go to the staff room,” said Harry, jumping up. “She’ll be there in ten minutes, it’s nearly break.”

You know, I actually like this. I like that they’re trying to consult the adults even if nothing comes of it. Because at least they tried and it makes the adults seem less like useless, pernicious wastes of page.

Well, not that they actually ever amount to much else than useless, pernicious wastes of page in these books, though.

“It has happened,” she told the silent staff room. “A student has been taken by the monster. Right into the Chamber itself.”

. . . Snape gripped the back of a chair very hard and said, “How can you be sure?”

Aw, he cares about the dunderheads. ♡

By the way, how did they get this information so quickly? Didn’t one of the teachers have a lesson during this time? Because Harry and Ron were waiting for the bell to ring but it didn’t. So presumably someone found this incident out before the classes ended.

The staff-room door banged open again. For one wild moment, Harry was sure it would be Dumbledore. But it was Lockhart, and he was beaming.

“So sorry — dozed off — what have I missed?”

He didn’t seem to notice that the other teachers were looking at him with something remarkably like hatred. . . .

You know. I get that Gilderoy is probably an insufferable braggart and a useless nuisance. But would that still make him hateful?

Because I once had a co-worker who was kind of like him. He would constantly brag about what a good worker he is while he came to work late every day and was absent once a week because of a hangover. I mostly thought he was amusing and let him prattle on whenever we had a shift together.

I suppose this scene is supposed to be humorous and, like, give Gilderoy his comeuppance but it just doesn’t make the other teachers look good.

A student has finally been taken and they take a moment to bully their colleague? Besides, it’s not like they’re any more useful than Gilderoy. They’re just shutting down the school — a hundred pages too late, might I add. Like, how many of them actually went around looking for the Chamber and Ginny? They must have at least some clairvoyance spells — you know, like the ones in Mad-Eye Moody’s eye. But nope, they aren’t actually doing any more than Gilderoy.

“Harry,” said Ron, “d’you think there’s any chance at all she’s not — you know–“

Harry didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t see how Ginny could still be alive.

And yet against all odds she is! Because Tommy is really slow at sucking up her life force or whatever. In spite of having a year to do it.

“D’you know what?” said Ron, “I think we should go and see Lockhart. Tell him what we know. He’s going to try and get into the Chamber. We can tell him where we think it is, and tell him it’s a Basilisk in there.”

Is Ron so desperate that he finally thinks Gilderoy is legit? He hasn’t believed a single thing about Gilderoy so far.

Darkness was falling as they walked down to Lockhart’s office. There seemed to be a lot of activity going on inside it. They could hear scraping, thumps and hurried footsteps.

You’re telling me he seriously hasn’t legged it out of there already?

So, Hogwarts’ school hours end around three or four o’clock. We’re in late May, and the sun sets in Scotland in late May around ten o’clock. But I suspect that just like in Finland, the light still lingers for a good while afterwards (unlike, say, around the equator region where it pretty much gets dark immediately after the sun sets). So it might be even slightly later than ten in this scene.

So Gilderoy has had around six to eight hours to get his useless arse out of Hogwarts, and he still hasn’t? Like, what was even the point of adding Gilderoy into this chapter aside from revealing that he was a fraud all along? Like that’s in any way surprising or important to the plot?

“You’re the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher!” said Harry. “You can’t go now! Not with all the dark stuff going on here!”

These kids have some really weird assumptions about teachers. Isn’t there that one saying that “those who can, do; those who can’t, teach”??

And yeah, I know Gilderoy wrote a slew of books on the heroics he didn’t do but Harry decided first to focus on his teacher position. Instead of his seeming position as a — um — hunter of dark forces…???? (I have no idea what these people would call themselves.)

But anyway. Like, imagine if this had been another character. Someone who’d never written a slew of books on the heroics they didn’t do. Just because they’re a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher doesn’t mean they know anything about Defence Against the Dark Arts aside from theory. It doesn’t mean they have practical knowledge or experience or anything.

If your sister has been “kidnapped” by a magical monster, you call the magical police.

“You mean you’re running away?” said Harry disbelievingly. “After all that stuff you did in your books?”

Yeah, he’s been running away for the past six to eight hours.

“Books can be misleading,” said Lockhart delicately.

Ha ha ha. This and these:

“A lot of the greatest wizards haven’t got an ounce of logic, they’d be stuck in here for ever.”

“People here’ll believe anything,” said Ron in disgust.

Go to my favourite quotes list. I feel they really encapsulate the spirit of these books. ♡

. . . “Do use your common sense. My books wouldn’t have sold half as well if people didn’t think I’d done all those things. No one wants to read about some ugly old Armenian warlock, even if he did save a village from werewolves. He’d look dreadful on the front cover. No dress sense at all. And the witch who banished the Bandon Banshee had a hairy chin. I mean, come on…”

. . . “There was work involved. I had to track these people down. Ask them exactly how they managed to do what they did. Then I had to put a Memory Charm on them so they wouldn’t remember doing it. . . .”

…..okay. Let me repeat:

“. . . performed the immensely complex Homorphus Charm . . . the fur vanished — the fangs shrank — and he turned back into a man. Simple, yet effective — and another village will remember me forever as the hero who delivered them from the monthly terror of werewolf attacks.”

“No one wants to read about some ugly old Armenian warlock, even if he did save a village from werewolves. . . .”

“Ask them exactly how they managed to do what they did. Then I had to put a Memory Charm on them so they wouldn’t remember doing it.”

Bolded by yours truly. I trust they speak for themselves. But hey:

“A lot of the greatest wizards haven’t got an ounce of logic, they’d be stuck in here for ever.”

“People here’ll believe anything,” said Ron in disgust.

“Books can be misleading,” said Lockhart delicately.

Maybe I have it wrong. Maybe Rowling is self-aware and mocking her fans.

“So you’ve just been taking credit for what a load of other people have done?” said Harry incredulously.

Pot, kettle, black. You know, I had this thought earlier that Gilderoy is actually a meta-commentary on Harry and Harry Potter.

He pulled out his wand and turned to them.

“Awfully sorry, boys, but I’ll have to put a Memory Charm on you now. Can’t have you blabbing my secrets all over the place. I’d never sell another book…”

Harry reached his wand just in time. Lockhart had barely raised his, when Harry bellowed, “Expelliarmus!“

This book is really trying my patience here. Who was the supposed editor for these early books? Because they should consider exchanging jobs.

Gilderoy had his wand. In his hand. Instead of writing: Harry reached his wand just in time. Lockhart had barely raised his . . . How about writing something more like:

He pulled out his wand and turned to them.

“Awfully sorry, boys, but I’ll have to put a Memory Charm on you now. Can’t have you blabbing my secrets all over the place. I’d never sell another book…”

But as soon as he’d turned around, Harry had raised his wand. Lockhart had barely finished speaking, when Harry bellowed blah blah blah.

Considering Gilderoy blabs like a moron before Obliviating the other morons. But nope. Instead Harry draws his wand faster than his shadow.

What is wrong with these characters? Why are they all so incompetent and stupid and just!!!!

And if you don’t want other people to blab your secrets all over the place, why are you REVEALING those secrets?

You know what? I need a goddamn break.

“What d’you want me to do?” said Lockhart weakly. “I don’t know where the Chamber of Secrets is. There’s nothing I can do.”

“You’re in luck,” said Harry, forcing Lockhart to his feet at wandpoint. “We think we know where it is. And what’s inside it. Let’s go.”

The break was useless. I still want to shred these books to pieces.

They just heard Gilderoy is a complete fraud. They even threw his wand out of the window. They know he’s useless and they rendered him effectively useless. So why are they dragging the dead weight with them? Are they planning on feeding him to the basilisk? Why are they wasting their time, the page time, and my time with this garbage?

Just so Rowling can pretend to be clever and slam the reader over the head with I R O N Y? Tee hee hee~.

They sent Lockhart in first. Harry was pleased to see that he was shaking.

Harry, sweetheart, could you please act less like a psychopathic little kid?

Moaning Myrtle was sitting on the cistern of the end toilet.

You know, considering Myrtle has made it a habit of hanging in the pipes, how come she never noticed the pipes in her bathroom go under the school?

. . . “I just remember seeing a pair of great big yellow eyes. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away…” She looked dreamily at Harry. “And then I came back again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. Oh, she was sorry she’d ever laughed at my glasses.”

And it never occurred to you to correct people on how you died? They reported it as a freak accident, or blamed Hagrid and his pet spider for it. But you — just didn’t care. You had faaaar more important things to do — such as spectrally bullying your bully.

…..I wonder if my family members would be mad if I took their copies of these books and burned them?

Besides, if Myrtle wanted to haunt Olive Hornby, then what’s she doing at Hogwarts? Why isn’t she haunting Olive Hornby?

Okay, I have six more pages to go. I can totally do this. It seems that my patience wears extremely thin as each book nears its end.

“Open up,” he said.

Except that the words weren’t what he heard; a strange hissing had escaped him . . .

Soooo… why’s Harry suddenly hearing himself speak Parseltongue? Forget between books, Rowling can’t even keep the stuff she writes consistent within a book.

He couldn’t not go, not now they had found the entrance to the Chamber, not if there was even the faintest, slimmest, wildest chance that Ginny might be alive.

This might seem like a dumb question but what does Harry care? He’s barely talked twice with Ginny and I couldn’t call either of those times an actual conversation. He’s barely interacted with her for the entire year.

So, does he care because of Ginny herself? Does he care because she’s Ron’s little sister? Does he care because she’s a Weasley? Does he care because she’s a person who needs help? No, seriously. What is Harry’s motivation for doing this?

And sure, Harry will go out of his merry way to get himself killed if someone’s in trouble but he doesn’t quite strike me as actually helpful.

“Well, you hardly seem to need me,” said Lockhart, with a shadow of his old smile. “I’ll just–“

He put his hand on the door knob, but Ron and Harry both pointed their wands at him.

“You can go first,” Ron snarled.

No, seriously, why are they dragging the wandless dead weight along with them? Except out of petty mean-spiritedness?

But the tunnel was quiet as the grave, and the first unexpected sound they heard was a loud crunch as Ron stepped on what turned out to be a rat’s skull. Harry lowered his wand to look at the floor and saw that it was littered with small animal bones. Trying very hard not to imagine what Ginny might look like if they found her . . .

I miss Dark Souls. Sure, the world building is obscure, dispersed as it is through item, place and enemy descriptions, the visual designs, and the dialogue, but they’re still far, far superior to this trash.

As an aside, I tried to start these things politely. I tried to remain polite. But as I progress, I basically despise these books more and more and I just don’t care anymore.

But anyway, why does Harry think the snake has eaten Ginny? It hasn’t eaten a single human so far and apparently the giant snake only eats small rodents.

. . . Lockhart’s hands were pressed over his eyes.

Ha ha, he’s cute.

Very slowly, his eyes as narrow as he could make them and still see, Harry edged forward, his wand held high.

What good will closing your eyes do if the snake can just bite your head off? Or crush and suffocate you? You know, kind of like the boa you sicced on your cousin? Oh wait, no, I bet that scenario would’ve gone something like this: But Dudley was so fat even the giant boa couldn’t wrap itself around him once!

. . . The creature that had shed it must have been twenty feet long at least.

Twenty feet. That’s six metres. I don’t know, it doesn’t sound so big. I mean, it’s not even as big as the biggest non-magical snakes, dead or alive. Giant anacondas (Eunectes murinus) can grow up to 30 feet. Reticulated pythons (Python reticulatus) grow up to 30 feet long. Titanoboa (Titanoboa cerrejonensis) could grow up to 42 feet.

There was a sudden movement behind them. Gilderoy Lockhart’s knees had given way.

“Get up,” said Ron sharply, pointing his wand at Lockhart.

Lockhart got to his feet — then he dived at Ron, knocking him to the ground.

You know, what did they think he would do? Even Sun Tzu wrote this, way back in the 6th century BCE, that you never corner your enemy without a way out. When they don’t have a way out, they’ll fight to the death because they have nothing to lose.

“The adventure ends here, boys!” he said. “I shall take a bit of this skin back up to the school, tell them I was too late to save the girl, and that you two tragically lost your minds at the sight of her mangled body. Say goodbye to your memories!”

I actually would’ve liked to see the other professors’ faces.

The wand exploded with the force of a small bomb. Harry flung his arms over his head and ran, slipping over the coils of snake skin, out of the way of great chunks of tunnel ceiling which were thundering to the floor. Next moment, he was standing alone, gazing at a solid wall of broken rock.

Y’know, years ago I read this theory that examined (or made fun of, whichever) these books as sexual symbolism. Which is kind of funny and horrible because both Harry and Ron went to save Ginny from the secret chamber (innuendo, apparently) but Ron was thwarted and his wand momentarily stolen, so Harry made it there first.

More Ron/Ginny proofs!

(I did say I might make more incest jokes.)

Harry looked up at the tunnel ceiling. Huge cracks had appeared in it. He had never tried to break apart anything as large as these rocks by magic . . .

Er… when have you ever tried to break apart anything with magic?

“Wait there,” he called to Ron. “Wait with Lockhart. I’ll go on. If I’m not back in an hour…”

I think Harry is vastly overestimating his abilities. Especially when he doesn’t even know how big the place is. Who knows, it might take him an hour just to get to where Ginny is.

Oh thank fuck it’s over.

I almost forgot!

Harry’s spell count so far: three.

“Harry — you’re a great wizard, you know.”

Chapter Fifteen – Aragog

So I had a thought still regarding Hagrid and his expulsion. Hagrid was raising a giant spider in the dungeons. Tommy said that the snake attacked several students, finally killing one. So I assume most of the victims were petrified fifty years ago, too.

What I’m getting at is: spiders and snakes are totally different. Spiders usually wrap the prey in silk, wait for it to die, and vomit all over the prey. Then they chew and suck up the meat with the fluid. This snake petrified its victims. Why did the so-called authorities think Hagrid’s pet spider had anything to do with the petrifications? Don’t A N Y of these morons investigate anything? Are their brains only for decoration to keep their heads from resembling raisins?

And yes, I get that Tommy framed Hagrid and the authorities just went along with it because they wanted to brush the whole thing under the carpet, but if that’s the case you really gotta write it better than this. Because this is basically the equivalent of picking a random person off the street to be your scapegoat. It’s like the whole Wizarding world is actively enabling Tommy — Dumbles, especially, included. Which means that just like with Gilderoy, it isn’t so much that Tommy is intelligent but that everyone else is completely brainless in comparison.

Also, this is kind of embarrassing to admit but I think I accidentally converted myself into lowkey shipping Hagrid and Tommy. Which is bizarre because I actively dislike Hagrid and Tommy is just a big meh to me.

But the thing is, it makes a terrible kind of sense? Like, in chapter thirteen Tommy knew where Hagrid was keeping his giant pet spider, or that he had a giant pet spider, and Hagrid wasn’t all that surprised that Tommy knew it or that he was there. He didn’t rush to hide his spider or make up excuses. They were on a first name basis, in spite of being in different years and in different houses. I mean, Tommy was in Slytherin and Hagrid hates Slytherins. They’re both half-bloods and share an interest in magical monsters and they both have a hobby of attacking children. And Hagrid loves monsters and he’s half of one while Tommy is kind of one, y’know? Not to mention it would also kind of explain Hagrid’s extreme prejudice against Slytherins if he was personally betrayed and burned by one, right?

It would certainly be more interesting than Hagrid hating on Slytherins just because one Slytherin Mudblood decided to go all Dark Wizard.

And to go on a bit of a tangent here: this is a regular problem in Harry Potter. Rowling writes these things — like Hagrid hating on Slytherins and all the younger Weasley brothers hating on Percy — and she doesn’t give them reasons. They just do because they do. And all I get from it is that the characters are just unbelievably petty which, frankly, doesn’t make them interesting. It makes me despise them.

But anyway, I can imagine them being friends or a thirteen-year-old Hagrid even having a small crush on Tommy, and Tommy finding it amusing and taking advantage of it but ultimately being unable to respond because he doesn’t get love. And the thing is, I don’t… really want to imagine that. Because the image in my head is kind of ew. Maybe because I’m imagining their adult actors which is… just… not… I mean, I know that Hagrid was really popular among gay readers because they thought he was the biggest leather daddy bear ever but personally I’d rather give it a pass. Which, granted, might have something to do with despising him.

And Tommy is just… Tommy. He was a stupid-looking face in the back of someone’s head in the first book; how am I supposed to take him seriously?

It would also explain away the abovementioned stupidity in regards to the lack of investigation if Hagrid actually confessed to all the crimes for Tommy. Because as I asked before, how d’you hush up something when snakes and spiders are completely different, Hagrid knows he had a pet spider that couldn’t petrify for shit and all he had to do was say it, and the only victim who died came back as a ghost — and wait, what happened to the other victims who were petrified? Were they never revived and interrogated?

So, I don’t know. I think if Rowling really wanted to write a tragic gay villain love — in spite of not writing it — then she already had a premise for it here. Instead of, y’know, post-canonically declaring Dumbles was gay all along and in love with some random character we were never even shown. I bet her gay readers would’ve been happy if she’d declared Hagrid gay instead.

But anyhow, onto the current chapter.

Summer was creeping over the grounds around the castle; sky and lake alike turned periwinkle blue and flowers as large as cabbages burst into bloom in the greenhouses. . . .

And of course, we start off with a time skip. So, in the previous chapter I talked about world building and plot segregation. Now let’s add to that plot and pacing segregation.

I’ve been pointing this out individually in each chapter, but the way Rowling has paced her “plots” just makes these characters look like passive, idle morons.

To kindly remind you, so far we’ve had: one petrified cat, two petrified boys, and one petrified ghost. (And two petrified girls.) The first attack happened on Halloween, in chapter eight. I’d say we’re now either in late April or early May, in chapter fifteen. That’s several months and several pages in which — basically nothing happened.

I know Rowling really wanted the year-timeframe because of the whole “school” thing — even though we don’t see any of the school or the lessons, and the school isn’t teaching the kids anything practical, instead all they seem to be doing is grooming each generation of kids into the Cult of Dumbles. Which might explain why Tommy wanted the position so bad.

The thing is, though, the characters just don’t do enough to justify that year-timeframe. Because the books are pretty much paced like this: something happens → these characters faff about like morons for several weeks. A new thing happens → some more faffing about like morons for several weeks. These books are nothing but fluff.

Here’s just one example, among many, of what these characters could’ve done instead: Dumbles could’ve closed the school for a while and had his good friend Mad-Eye Moody walk through the entire school and see if he finds any hidden secret paths with his magical eye. That can see through everything. And surely the enchantments to make this eye could’ve been used in other ways too? Which brings us right back to world building and plot segregation.

As an aside, I feel I need to further clarify this. When I bring up these alternatives what the characters could’ve done, it’s not that I want them to do something and immediately succeed. My exact problem is that they don’t even T R Y.

This is the same problem I had in Boku no Hero Academia with Izuku. My problem with Izuku in the first chapter wasn’t that he didn’t do and succeed; it was that the little wishy-washy loser didn’t even try to do a thing for himself. Instead, he bleats how much he wants to be a hero and how he doesn’t care what other people say, and all he actually does is scribble notes (that will forever piss me off) and immediately gives up when his “hero” says don’t.

What’s absolutely aggravating about this is that these characters who don’t even try get everything handed to them anyway by the author, and that’s the exact moment when the story becomes nothing but a wish fulfilment fantasy for people who want to cope with their lack of life choices. Instead of, like, giving actual healthy messages to the readership? But majority of the people didn’t seem to get that.

Here’s the stark truth: nothing is truly impossible unless you don’t even try.

I mean, seriously. Ask yourself this, which story would you rather read: the one where the main character makes things happen, whether good or bad, or the one where things happen to them?

Also, keep in mind what I’ve said about PTSD when you consider your answer.

With Dumbledore gone, fear had spread as never before . . .

…..yeah, I’m still rather siding with Lucius than these morons.

You know, this is a regular problem with people in real life, too. They’re so hung up on appearances and words that they don’t pay any attention or understand that the only thing that truly defines a person is their actions.

Cattle die
kinsmen die
you yourself will die
but I know one thing that never dies
the deeds of a dead man’s life

— paraphrased from memory

Which is why I, for example, always look at what characters actually do instead of just what the author tells me. Because I’m hardly ever impressed by what authors tell me.

As an aside, this is also one of the many reasons why democracy is useless. Democracy is, essentially, a system of manufactured consent. It’s to give you the illusion of freedom and the trappings of power.

Harry constantly repeated Dumbledore’s final words to himself. “I will only truly have left this school when none here are loyal to me… Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.” But what good were these words? Who exactly were they supposed to ask for help, when everyone was just as confused and scared as they were?

Aw, Harry, don’t you know? Dumbles is god. And all you gotta do is ask god for help and he’ll deliver — and you know what? I can’t, my whole body is repelling against this line of thought.

. . . about a fortnight after Dumbledore and Hagrid had left . . .

A fortnight? That’s two weeks. What have you been doing during that time — oh, that’s right. Nothing.

“I always thought Father might be the one who got rid of Dumbledore,” he said, not troubling to keep his voice down. “I told you he thinks Dumbledore’s the worst Headmaster the school’s ever had. . . .”

I agree. ♡ I told you Draco is a little bit meta. Of course, I don’t think Rowling intentionally wrote him that way but curiously that’s what ended up happening anyway.

Snape swept past Harry, making no comment about Hermione’s empty seat and cauldron.

Should he have made a comment then? I’m a little confused: is this trying to say Severus is horrible for not making a comment or that he’s not bad for not making a comment?

“Sir,” said Malfoy loudly. “Sir, why don’t you apply for the Headmaster’s job?”

Ha ha, he’s such a cutie. ♡

“I’m quite surprised the Mudbloods haven’t all packed their bags by now,” Malfoy went on. “Bet you five Galleons the next one dies. Pity it wasn’t Granger…”

Draco sure holds his grudges, ha ha. Okay, he might half-seriously mean the stuff he says (because he’s a kid and probably a sheltered kid at that) but mostly this is just about Hermione and her very first words to him:

“At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in,” said Hermione sharply. “They got in on pure talent.”

So yes, I just find this amusing.

Harry went to tip an armful of withered stalks onto the compost heap and found himself face to face with Ernie Macmillan. Ernie took a deep breath and said, very formally, “I just want to say, Harry, that I’m sorry I ever suspected you. I know you’d never attack Hermione Granger, and I apologise for all the stuff I said. We’re all in the same boat now, and, well–“

He held out a pudgy hand, and Harry shook it.

And in one single scene Ernie shows he has more character and integrity than Harry can ever hope to have. I can’t remember a single instance where Harry admitted he was wrong or apologised to someone. Hell, he sliced Draco right open in Book Six and almost murdered him, and the psychopathic brat cared more about some book as if this book never happened. And then he went on to spend his sunlight-filled days snogging Ginny Weasley because, yes.

Which also makes those fics where he deigns to forgive Draco horrifying. I really, really need to write my version of it. To summarise it:

HARRY, *like a sanctimonious twat*: I forgive you.

DRACO, *disbelievingly*: Fuck off.

This is not to say that Draco never did anything wrong. But really, Harry is the last person he has anything to apologise for. So far the only person he should probably apologise to is Neville. For some reason Draco was rude to him from the beginning which makes me wonder if they knew each other before Hogwarts.

Also, Ernie changed his mind because Harry would never attack Hermione? Why? If the kid is attacking random people he had arguments with, why couldn’t he possibly do the same to his friend? He could’ve easily fought about something or the other with Hermione, and petrified her as a punishment.

“We’ll have to use the Invisibility Cloak again,” Harry told Ron. “We can take Fang with us. He’s used to going into the Forest with Hagrid, he might be some help.”

Kid, Fang is a total wuss. What kind of help d’you imagine he’d be? A distraction if something attacks you?

“Right,” said Ron, who was twirling his wand nervously in his fingers. “Er — aren’t there — aren’t there supposed to be werewolves in the Forest?” he added . . .

Funny that you asked, Ron! I have just the solution for you!

“. . . performed the immensely complex Homorphus Charm . . . the fur vanished — the fangs shrank — and he turned back into a man. Simple, yet effective — and another village will remember me forever as the hero who delivered them from the monthly terror of werewolf attacks.”

You’re welcome. ♡

Preferring not to answer that question, Harry said, “There are good things in there, too. The centaurs are all right, and the unicorns.”

One centaur was all right. The rest would just as well leave you to die.

“Don’t you people realise,” said Lockhart, speaking slowly, as though they were all a bit dim, “the danger has passed! The culprit has been taken away.”

I agree that all of these characters are dim, but they just took a suspect away. And because Wizards are thoroughly incompetent they only took away one suspect. And a shoddy suspect at that.

“My dear young man, the Minister of Magic wouldn’t have taken Hagrid if he hadn’t been one hundred per cent sure that he was guilty,” said Lockhart, in the one of someone explaining that one and one made two.

I still strongly doubt that ministers, magic or otherwise, do errands like this.

But Lockhart’s disgusting cheeriness, his hints that he had always thought Hagrid was no good . . .

I actually agree.

The Gryffindor common room was always very crowded these days, because from six o’clock onwards, the Gryffindors had nowhere else to go.

Oh? So normally they can wander the school until relatively late? Good to know.

Harry went to get the Invisibility Cloak out of his trunk right after dinner, and spent the evening sitting on it, waiting for the room to clear.

Why exactly? Why couldn’t you just pretend to go to bed, wait for everyone else to fall asleep, and then sneak out?

Fred and George challenged Harry and Ron to a few games of Exploding Snap and Ginny sat watching them, very subdued in Hermione’s usual chair.

You know, did Rowling bother to explain Ginny’s inactivity throughout this entire book? If she did, did she give us adequate reasons why Ginny did absolutely nothing about herself? Because she honestly comes off as a selfish sociopath, which probably foreshadows her true love with Harry.

I mean, so far she’s petrified one cat, two boys, one ghost, and two girls — one of whom was her brother’s best friend. And it’s like, she just doesn’t care?

Because here’s the thing, forget about Tommy. Tommy isn’t doing this. Tommy is, literally, just ink in a diary and not even that. He’s powerless. It’s Ginny doing all this, supposedly at Tommy’s influence or behest.

And yes, yes, she did try to toss the diary away in January — and what a sterling job she did! Instead of, y’know, sending it anonymously to the authorities. Such as, but not limited to, Dumbles, the Aurors, the Department of Mysteries, the Order of Merlin, the Dark Force Defence League. Or she could’ve borrowed an owl or a broom to toss the diary into the North Sea.

According to Rowling’s shoddy lore, Hogwarts is located near Dufftown. It takes about thirty minutes from Dufftown to the sea coast with a car — so it’d likely take even less time with a broom. Ginny could’ve made it there and back in a jiffy. She wouldn’t even have triggered any alarms since in the first book Charlie’s friends were able to fly right in and out of Hogwarts without anyone noticing a thing. Well, aside from Dumbles probably but we hate that dude.

You’d think she would’ve employed more serious methods to get rid of the diary, or come clean after she petrified her brother’s best friend and her other brother’s girlfriend, but instead she’s just sitting around looking “subdued”.

Ginny Weasley Was the Real Dark Wizardess Extraordinaire All Along~.

They reached Hagrid’s house, sad and sorry-looking with its blank windows. When Harry pushed the door open, Fang went mad with joy at the sight of them. Worried he might wake everyone at the castle with his deep, booming barks, they hastily fed him treacle fudge from a tin on the mantelpiece, which glued his teeth together.

And then spent the rest of the night waiting for him to get over his diarrhea.

Harry left the Invisibility Cloak on Hagrid’s table. There would be no need for it in the pitch-dark Forest.

Are you stupid?

Harry took out his wand, murmured, “Lumos!” and a tiny light appeared at the end of it, just enough to let them watch the path for signs of spiders.

Oh my god, you are stupid.

*takes a moment to cry*

So, Harry and Ron sneak into the Forbidden Forest. Which rumouredly has werewolves and who knows what other assorted beasts that can potentially see, hear, or smell them and which make this forest For-bid-den. And what does our splendid hero do? He leaves behind his Invisibility Cloak, which makes him invisible. And he lights up a fucking beacon in the night — y’know, just so the beasts can’t possibly miss them traipsing around in the Forest.

How did Tommy consecutively fail to murder this dumbass? Oh, right. By being even more of a dumbass.

Also, Harry’s third spell and who knows when or where he learned it? It could’ve been nice to get even a hint of what the curriculum in this school entails. And I don’t just mean the names of the subjects, if that wasn’t clear.

Two solitary spiders were hurrying away from the wandlight into the shade of trees.

By the glow of Harry’s wand, they followed the steady trickle of spiders moving along the path.

Come to think of it, since we’re already almost at the end of the school year — and the first attack happened on Halloween — shouldn’t all the spiders have already left the school? I mean, why wouldn’t they have mass exodused at the same time?

One potential explanation for this could’ve been that the spiders aren’t actually fleeing the basilisk — because if that was the case, wouldn’t they have fled ages ago already? — but they’re doing like a yearly pilgrimage to the giant spider god. It’s not like we learned anything else from Aragog except that Hagrid didn’t dunnit. So it’s not like the spiders’ behaviour had to be related to the basilisk.

Moreover, since Hagrid told the pair of dumbasses to follow the spiders that means he knows the spiders are fleeing the castle. Wouldn’t it then be inferential that he knows what they’re fleeing from? So couldn’t he have given a more sensible hint to the pair of dumbasses — such as, “look fer somethin’ spiders hate!” — instead of sending the pair of dumbasses to their potential death? I mean, if it’s a magical creature and spiders hate it, the pair of dumbasses could’ve consulted the professor of Care of Magical Creatures. Just because Harry et al. don’t take their class it doesn’t mean they don’t exist.

Or hilariously, they could’ve consulted Gilderoy. But that would’ve required him to be knowledgeable if magically useless — which is what I would’ve done.

But Hagrid was miles away now, probably sitting in a cell in Azkaban . . .

Oh, how I wish.

“What d’you reckon?” Harry said to Ron . . .

I reckon you already lost the trail.

“Shut up,” said Harry frantically. “It’ll hear you.”

Harry, a pertinent question: is your wand still lit up?

“Harry!” Ron shouted, his voice breaking with relief. “Harry, it’s our car!”

Well, isn’t that an Unfortunate Coincidence.

Harry didn’t even have time to turn around. There was a loud clicking noise and suddenly he felt something long and hairy seize him around the middle and lift him off the ground, so that he was hanging, face down.

<monotone>I bet that Invisibility Cloak would’ve come in handy right about now.</monotone>

Harry suddenly realised that the spider which had dropped him was saying something. It had been hard to tell, because he clicked his pincers with every word he spoke.

Would spiders be able to speak English? I mean, anatomically?

“. . . Hagrid is my good friend, and a good man.”

Hilariously, this is said by a giant spider that was willing to feed Hagrid’s friends to his children.

“. . . I have lived here in the Forest ever since, where Hagrid still visits me. He even found me a wife, Mosag, and you see how our family has grown, all through Hagrid’s goodness…”

You know, hasn’t Hagrid basically royally fucked over Britain with this thing? You see, this spider is an invasive species. The common thing about invasive species is that they don’t have natural restrictors on their population growth and the native species tend to lack natural defences against them. So invasive species usually breed in massive numbers, spread uncontrollably, and pretty much use up all the resources they can around them.

Some people think that animals only kill to eat, to survive, but that isn’t true. When there’s an abundance of prey, they kill for sport.

But anyway, someday Aragog is going to die and it’ll only take a couple of generations until the new leaders forget about Hagrid, or Aragog’s promise not to harm humans, or why those things mattered in the first place. And at that point, these spiders will start to expand their territory and they will start eating humans, and probably all the other animals to near extinction.

Also, I just realised that these spiders are most likely inbred.

Thanks, Hagrid. Brilliant job.

“. . . I never saw any part of the castle but the cupboard in which I grew up. . . .”

Ha ha, I just realised this spider is Harry.

“We do not speak of it!” said Aragog fiercely. “We do not name it! I never even told Hagrid the name of that dread creature, though he asked me, many times.”

Oh, great. We have another Tommy.

But anyhow, one) so Hagrid knew there was another monster in the castle, which his pet spider was afraid of, and he didn’t think to present this information to the authorities?

Two) Even if Aragog refused to name the “dread creature”, why didn’t Hagrid consult his professor of Care of Magical Creatures and ask what creature spiders are afraid of? And then presented that information to the authorities!

Three) These characters are dumb.

“My sons and daughters do not harm Hagrid, on my command. But I cannot deny them fresh meat, when it wanders so willingly into our midst. Goodbye, friend of Hagrid.”

Oh, apparently it won’t even take a couple of generations. All it’ll take is for Aragog to croak.

Also, could one of these characters die already? I just find it unbelievable that not one of them has died yet. I feel like there should be karmic Darwinian justice in the world.

…..now I have this faint recollection that Rowling did write a dead Aragog.

Even as he reached for his wand, Harry knew it was no good, there were too many of them, but as he tried to stand, ready to die fighting . . .

Ha ha ha.

“Follow the spiders,” said Ron weakly, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “I’ll never forgive Hagrid. We’re lucky to be alive.”

“I bet he thought Aragog wouldn’t hurt friends of his,” said Harry.

“That’s exactly Hagrid’s problem!” said Ron, thumping the wall of the cabin. “He always thinks monsters aren’t as bad as they’re made out, and look where it’s got him! A cell in Azkaban!” He was shivering uncontrollably now. “What was the point of sending us in there? What have we found out, I’d like to know?”

So, when Rowling does seem to have a smidgen of self-awareness she — completely misses the point. The problem isn’t that Hagrid’s sitting in jail for his shit behaviour — frankly, he deserves to sit in jail for the stuff he’s done. The problem is he consistently endangers others with his shit behaviour.

Also, Harry has gone back to feeling like a puppet trying to pass off as a human. I find it funny that most fan fic writers think Harry is some super moral character when the kid is, at best, completely amoral. At least he’ll be easy to write, I guess.

. . . He sat on the edge of his four-poster, thinking hard . . .

I bet that’s a novel experience for Harry.

The creature that was lurking somewhere in the castle, he thought, sounded like a sort of monster Voldemort — even other monsters didn’t want to name it.

Hey look, I had the same thought.

He couldn’t see what else they could do. They had hit dead ends everywhere. Riddle had caught the wrong person, the heir of Slytherin had got off, and no one could tell whether it was the same person, or a different one, who had opened the Chamber this time. There was nobody else to ask. . . . 

This kid is so stupid. Here are just a few suggestions of what you could’ve done:

One) Ask the paintings. They were around fifty years ago.

Two) Ask the ghosts. They were around fifty years ago.

Three) Find out who the previously petrified victims were and send them owls asking for interviews.

Four) Find out who the professors were fifty years ago and send them owls asking for interviews.

Five) Check the newspapers and obituaries from fifty years ago and find out who died at Hogwarts during that time.

Six) Consult the professor of Care of Magical Creatures.

Seven) Open a book, learn a clairvoyance spell, and try to find the Chamber of Secrets that way. (This book is making me miss the world building in Baldur’s Gate. But not the characters, though.)

Eight) Get a brain. Do some actual i n v e s t i g a t i n g.

Oops, that last one slipped out.

In conclusion: this chapter was honestly a complete waste of time. We didn’t find out anything we didn’t already know. We knew Hagrid didn’t open the Chamber because Rowling won’t ever in her life admit it even when he does do something. We knew Hagrid’s giant spider wasn’t the monster since spiders are fleeing from the castle. Besides, the victims were petrified — not wrapped in silk and sucked up like human slushies.

The only relevant information we got was that the victim died in a bathroom. And even that could’ve been accomplished in any other way that didn’t waste our time. Check steps two, four, and five.

Harry’s spell count so far: *sighs* three.

“Harry — you’re a great wizard, you know.”

Chapter Fourteen – Cornelius Fudge

You know what else the Golden Trio could’ve done if asking the ghosts about the Chamber of Secrets was too complex? Ask the paintings. The paintings are everywhere, they’re potentially centuries old or even from the Founders’ time¹, they can move between each other’s frames, and they can see, hear and talk. But of course, that would’ve required actual work from our sterling heroes and we can’t have that.

¹ And come to think of it, didn’t the Founders get living paintings of themselves?

In video games, there is this thing called gameplay and story segregation. This is the loose equivalent of ludonarrative dissonance: the separation between the gameplay narrative and the narrative. For example, in the newest reiteration of Tomb Raider Lara Croft went all: “Derpy derp, I only kill to survive~”, while in the gameplay narrative she goes on a happy-go-lucky mass murder torture spree.

In Harry Potter, there seems to be world building and “plot” segragation², but I don’t know enough Latin to make a fancy word for it. Because since Hogwarts has ghosts and alive paintings, how d’you even walk a giant snake around in the corridors without someone or something noticing? Remember, the snake usually gets around in the pipes but has to come out into the corridors to attack people. It’s not petrifying them through the walls, otherwise we’d have more victims.

² I actually googled “world building and plot segregation” to see if anyone’s come up with a word for it but I got nothing. You first heard of this on this blog, ha ha.

. . . and it would be a long time before they forgot the giant, three-headed dog he’d christened ‘Fluffy’.

Oh, really? Do tell, narrative, what happened to Fluffy after these people kept it locked up in a small room for a year? Did they just put it down when they no longer had any use for it? I wouldn’t put it past them.

And if, as a boy, Hagrid had heard that a monster was hidden somewhere in the castle, Harry was sure he’d have gone to any lengths for a glimpse of it. He’d probably thought it was a shame that the monster had been cooped so long, and thought it deserved the chance to stretch its many legs . . .

Hey, Harry. I have one word for you: Fluffy.

“How many monsters d’you think this place can hold?” Ron asked dully.

Oh, Ron. You’d be surprised.

“And Riddle was going to go back to some Muggle orphanage if they closed Hogwarts,” said Harry. “I don’t blame him for wanting to stay here…”

Note that Harry felt the need to specify Muggle orphanage. Because surely the Muggleness makes it worse.

Neville Longbottom had been sent letters from all the witches and wizards in his family, all giving him different advice on what to choose. . . .

Aw, Neville is the baby of the family. A baby they defenestrated. But at least they did it out of love.

And you know what would have been interesting? In the first book, Dumbles went all: blah de blah de blah, if there’s one thing Tommy can’t understand, it’s love. I think it would’ve been more interesting if Tommy had been abused out of “love”.

But the only thing Harry felt he was really good at was Quidditch. In the end, he chose the same new subjects as Ron, feeling that if he was rubbish at them, at least he’d have someone friendly to help him.

Our hero, everyone. He’s so admirably active and purposeful.

Okay, enough sarcasm. The thing is, I wrote a character who’s kind of like this as well. But here’s the difference, she’s a side character. I know Harry Potter is some version of coming of age tale, but who thought it was a good idea to make a driftless, passive, disinterested moron the main character? Without, you know, admitting your main character is that way.

Oh my god, Harry is a shōjo heroine, ha ha ha ha.

Also, of course Harry feels the only thing he’s good at is Quidditch because he doesn’t even have to try at it.

The contents of Harry’s trunk had been thrown everywhere. His cloak lay ripped on the floor. The bedclothes had been pulled off his four-poster and the drawer had been pulled out of his bedside cabinet, the contents strewn over the mattress.

To kindly remind you: Ginny tossed the diary away in January. She found out Harry has it on February fourteenth. And now it’s April.

In other words, Ginny waited for two. fucking. months to go after the diary. The year timeframe in these books is moronic.

“But — only a Gryffindor could have stolen — nobody else knows our password…”

Imagine if Rowling had written an attack during Yule. That and this would’ve narrowed the suspects down to Fred, George, Percy, Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Hermione. That would’ve been interesting.

He had just set foot on the marble staircase when he heard it yet again: “Kill this time… let me rip… tear…“

Just to remind you: This snake is moving through pipes. In stonewalls. Harry was a Parselmouth, not a Parselmind. If the snake is hissing loud enough that Harry is hearing it, then other people should be hearing something too even if they can’t make sense of it.

. . . Hermione, however, clapped a hand to her forehead.

“Harry — I think I’ve just understood something! I’ve got to go to the library!”

Oh my god, Rowling literally just had her go “eureka!”

Oh well, let’s get into how this could’ve been written better.

So, we know Sally was called Serpent-tongue because he could talk to snakes. The symbol of the Slytherin house is a snake. Why didn’t any pureblood — y’know, the ones who grew up in the Wizarding World — in the thousand years deduce that maybe Sally’s pet in Sally’s Chamber that only “the true heir of Slytherin” could open was a snake? Add to that the petrifications, the dead roosters, the oddly-behaving spiders, and they could’ve started to narrow down the list of snakes until they came up with basilisks.

But nope. This mystery could only be solved by the Muggleborn girl who found out she’s a witch two years ago! And the only reason why she solved it was because the author literally planted the answer in her head.

This world is made up of morons. Also, this is one of the reasons why I call Hermione an exposition and a plot device. Oh, and come to think of it — Rowling literally has the equivalent of an exchange student explaining to the natives how their world works. That’s not imperialistic at all.

. . . his only comfort was that everyone was now outside to watch the game.

Harry thinks, like five minutes after his best friend sprinted up to the library.

“This match has been cancelled,” Professor McGonagall called through the megaphone, addressing the packed stadium. . . .

Professor McGonagall ignored him and continued to shout through her megaphone: “All students are to make their way back to the house common rooms, where their Heads of Houses will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!”

Why are they making such a big production of this instance just because Hermione was petrified? None of the other kids got anything like this. They were just shoved into the hospital wing and forgotten. But now it’s all: SHUT IT ALL DOWN! WE HAVE ANOTHER ATTACK!

Also, not to sound morbid, but could at least one of these characters die already? Sally really overestimated the murder skills of this snake.

“All students will return to their house common rooms by six o’clock in the evening. No student is to leave the dormitories after that time. You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No student is to use the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher. All further Quidditch training and matches are to be postponed. There will be no more evening activities.”

No but seriously, isn’t this like a hundred pages too late?

“That’s two Gryffindors down, not counting a Gryffindor ghost, one Ravenclaw and one Hufflepuff,” said the Weasley twins’ friend Lee Jordan, counting on his fingers. “Haven’t any of the teachers noticed that the Slytherins are all safe? Isn’t it obvious all this stuff’s coming from Slytherin? The heir of Slytherin, the monster of Slytherin — why don’t they just chuck all the Slytherins out?” he roared, to nods and scattered applause.

Oh, the irony. In more ways than one.

. . . Tom Riddle had turned Hagrid in because he was faced with the prospect of a Muggle orphanage if the school closed. Harry now knew exactly how he had felt.

Note that Harry felt the need to specify Muggle orphanage again. And he equates this Muggle orphanage to the Dursleys and their abusive ways. But he still never makes the connection that it’s the Wizards who know Harry is being abused and they still send him right on back.

“I think,” said Harry, more quietly still, “it’s time to get my dad’s old Cloak out again.”

Oh, so Rowling and Harry do remember the Invisibility Cloak.

The journey through the dark and deserted castle corridors wasn’t enjoyable. Harry, who had wandered the castle at night several times before, had never seen it so crowded after sunset.

I trust the bolded parts speak for themselves.

Also, several times? The first time was when he was sneaking into the library, the second time was when he was sneaking into the Astronomy Tower, and the third time was when he was sneaking into the trapdoor. Oh, and I guess he did sneak a few times into the room with the Mirror.

Thankfully, Snape sneezed at almost exactly the moment Ron swore.

I don’t know why but somehow the thought of Severus sneezing is kind of cute. Maybe because it’s such a human thing to do?

Seconds after they had knocked, Hagrid flung it open. They found themselves face to face, with him aiming a crossbow at them, Fang the boarhound barking loudly behind him.

Hagrid expects authorities to come to get him and he decides to greet them with a face-full of crossbow to really prove his innocence. You know, in the real world this usually gets criminals and suspects killed.

“That’s Dad’s boss!” Ron breathed. “Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic!”

“Bad business, Hagrid,” said Fudge, in rather clipped tones. “Very bad business. Had to come. Four attacks on Muggle-borns. Things’ve gone far enough. Ministry’s got to act.”

I don’t know, would Ministers go around doing stuff like arresting suspects in criminal investigations? Shouldn’t this be a job for the Aurors? I almost feel like all of Rowling’s adult characters are just children playing at adults.

. . . “I’m under a lot of pressure. Got to be seen to be doing something. If it turns out it wasn’t Hagrid, he’ll be back and no more said. But I’ve got to take him. Got to. Wouldn’t be doing my duty–“

Can you take Harry while you’re at it? I mean, of all the nonexistent suspects, he’s the only one with any resemblance to a motive. What with having had conflicts with most of the victims before they were found petrified.

“Take me?” said Hagrid, who was trembling. “Take me where?”

“For a short stretch only,” said Fudge, not meeting Hagrid’s eyes. “Not a punishment, Hagrid, more a precaution. If someone else is caught, you’ll be let out with a full apology…”

“Not Azkaban?” croaked Hagrid.

Yes! Lock him up and throw away the key!

“My dear man, please believe me, I have no pleasure at all being inside your — er — d’you call this a house?” said Lucius Malfoy, sneering as he looked around the small cabin. “I simply called at the school and was told that the Headmaster was here.”

“Dreadful thing, Dumbledore,” said Mr Malfoy lazily, taking out a long roll of parchment, “but the governors feel it’s time for you to step aside. This is an Order of Suspension — you’ll find all twelve signatures on it. I’m afraid we feel you’re losing your touch. How many attacks have there been now? Two more this afternoon, wasn’t it? At this rate, there’ll be no Muggle-borns left at Hogwarts, and we all know what an awful loss that would be to the school.”

“The appointment — or suspension — of the Headmaster is a matter for the governors, Fudge,” said Mr Malfoy smoothly. “And as Dumbledore has failed to stop these attacks…”

Ha ha, I know I probably shouldn’t but Lucius totally won me over just now. If he gets Dumbles kicked out and locked up, I don’t care what else he’s done. I find it odd that the only characters with any sort of sense in these books are supposed to be evil.

“This isn’t magic — it’s logic — a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven’t got an ounce of logic, they’d be stuck in here for ever.”

Oops, I almost forgot about that one.

“Oh, now, see here, Lucius,” said Fudge, looking alarmed, “Dumbledore suspended… no, no… last thing we want just now…”

“Now look, Lucius, if Dumbledore can’t stop them–” said Fudge, whose upper lip was sweating now, “I mean to say, who can?”

Dude, what has Dumbledore done? Here’s a spoiler: n o t h i n g.

In the first book, Dumbles did absolutely nothing in spite of knowing everything that went on. All he did was groom Harry — y’know, the eleven-year-old boy — to go after the Dark Wizard Extraordinaire.

This wouldn’t have been so — *sighs with extreme reluctance* — bad if Tommy was an embodiment of some abstract that Harry had to conquer — kind of like Sauron. But, well, he isn’t. He’s an adult Dark Wizard who supposedly murdered a whole bunch of people. Even if you wanted to make the argument that Tommy is an embodiment of some abstract, Quirrell was still very much a real adult Dark Wizard.

In other words, Dumbles is an abusive piece of shit.

In this book, Dumbles has still done nothing. Before this chapter, we had: one petrified cat, two petrified boys, and one petrified ghost. There were no warnings, no curfews, no safety measures given out to the students. They just dumped all the victims in the hospital wing and forgot about them.

Dumbles knows Tommy is Voldemort. He knows Tommy opened the Chamber last time and this time. As the greatest wizard eveeeer~ shouldn’t he have been able to deduce what Sally’s pet was and acted accordingly? But he didn’t.

So even if you want to discount Dumbles being an abusive piece of shit, he’s still a useless piece of shit.

And since we’re here, let’s talk about Hagrid for a moment. I have this headcanon, y’see. In this book Dumbles said:

“No second-year could have done this,” said Dumbledore firmly. “It would take Dark magic of the most advanced–“

But they totally expelled Hagrid for the same reason and Hagrid was only a third-year. Now, it’s implied or evident, depending on how much headcanon you want to put into it, that Hagrid was used as a scapegoat fifty years ago as well. The difference being that the attacks stopped after his expulsion because obviously even Tommy isn’t that stupid.

So here’s the question: why didn’t Dumbles do anything to stop Hagrid from being framed and scapegoated into expulsion? Because he wasn’t the Headmaster? He’s a Headmaster now and he still isn’t doing a lot else than having a “fire in his eyes”.

Also, Dumbles knows Tommy is Voldemort. He knows Tommy opened the Chamber last time; that’s why he wondered how Tommy opened it this time.

“The question is not who,” said Dumbledore, his eyes on Colin. “The question is, how…”

The pertinent question is: when did Dumbles acquire this information? Before or after Hagrid’s expulsion? The answer to that is important because if it was before — or hell, why not after as well — then why didn’t Dumbles come forth with it? After all, the whole Wizarding world practically worships him aside from people with sense like Lucius. His word would’ve probably weighed quite a bit. So why did he let an — er — in this instance innocent thirteen-year-old take the fall for something he didn’t do?

Did Dumbles perchance see a wonderful opportunity? After all, what falsely accused child who’s just been thrown out of school wouldn’t be eternally grateful to the kind professor who offers him the chance to stay? Why, they’d probably practically worship that person and do everything they ask without question.

(Sorry about that long sentence, I didn’t know how to word it better and I don’t wanna try. It’s still understandable, right?)

Of course, this is all just a bunch of headcanon but it’s very much in line with Dumbles’ character. Oh, and in case anyone missed it, I don’t like the old coot. To put it mildly. And by that I mean I want to throw him off a cliff.

“Yeh can’ take Dumbledore!” yelled Hagrid, making Fang the boarhound cover and whimper in his basket. “Take him away, an’ the Muggle-borns won’ stand a chance! There’ll be killin’s next!”

Seriously, this Cult of Dumbles is creepy.

Pray tell, Hagrid, what has Dumbles done in the entirety of this book to stop the attacks? No warnings, no curfews, no safety measures, no Aurors, no investigations, no escorts, nothing. He shoved the victims into the hospital wing, out of sight and out of mind as they say. The dude is fucking useless.

“However,” said Dumbledore, speaking very slowly and clearly, so that none of them could miss a word, “you will find that I will only truly have left this school when none here are loyal to me.”

Because that doesn’t sound creepy at all!

Seriously, Dumbles, could you piss off already?

“You will also find that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.”

And heaven help those who don’t ask for it.

“Admirable sentiments,” said Malfoy, bowing. “We shall all miss your — er — highly individual way of running things, Albus, and only hope that your successor will manage to prevent any — ah — ‘killin’s‘.”

At least Lucius keeps up his winning streak with me, ha ha.

. . . but Hagrid stood his ground, took a deep breath and said carefully, “If anyone wanted ter find out some stuff, all they’d have ter do would be ter follow the spiders. That’d lead ’em right!”

Into a painful death.

Thanks, Hagrid, but you can piss right off, too.

“We’re in trouble now,” he said hoarsely. “No Dumbledore. They might as well close the school tonight. There’ll be an attack a day with him gone.”

Oh my god, you people. What is wrong with you? Is it something in the pumpkin juice? Is Dumbles drugging all of these morons with some iteration of imperius? No, seriously, why are they all acting like Dumbles’ creepy little cult members?

That’s it. I’m siding with Lucius.

Harry’s spell count so far: *sighs* two.

“Harry — you’re a great wizard, you know.”

Chapter Thirteen – The Very Secret Diary

It has come to my attention — through potterwikia again — that Hogwarts does, indeed, study alchemy as an elective! My question is then, why wasn’t this a part of the first book which actually dealt with alchemy? For example, Percy could’ve studied alchemy and been the one to tell the Golden Trio who Nicolas Flamel is instead of them finding it out through a Series of Unfortunate Coincidences. But nope.

As an aside, from this moment on I’m re-naming these books to A Series of Unfortunate Coincidences. There might be Harry Potter on the title, but he sure as hell isn’t relevant or d o i n g anything in the plot. Replace him with a log of wood and you’d get the same results.

my fancy artistic rendition

Another missed opportunity happened in the previous chapter in which Harry and Ron drugged and locked up Vincent and Gregory in a broom cupboard. This could’ve been a great character moment for Harry — or a character moment, at least. For example, he could’ve expressed hesitation or reservations about this plan since the Dursleys habitually locked him up in the cupboard under the stairs or in his new bedroom this summer. Or keeping it more in line with Harry’s characterisation, he could’ve expressed satisfaction that he’s finally the one who gets to lock up someone else — namely, Slytherins — in a cupboard. But nope.

Hermione remained in the hospital wing for several weeks. There was a flurry of rumour about her disappearance when the rest of the school arrived back from their Christmas holidays, because of course everyone thought that she had been attacked.

Here’s another missed opportunity. You know what Rowling could’ve done? Write another attack during the christmas holidays which would’ve narrowed down the suspects to people who were in the castle at that time. Like, give me something to work with here. But nope.

“I don’t suppose you’ve got any new leads?” she added in a whisper, so that Madam Pomfrey couldn’t hear her.

New leads? You didn’t have old leads. Wanna know why? Because you didn’t investigate a n y t h i n g. As far as potential motives go, Harry is the likeliest suspect since he’s the one who actually had conflicts with each victim before they were petrified. Well, aside from Nicholas. But he was more collateral damage anyway.

Like, they could’ve gone around asking the ghosts about the Chamber of Secrets. All of them were at Hogwarts the last time the Chamber was open.

Why aren’t any of these morons doing the obvious things? *insert perfectly coherent rage here*

“I was so sure it was Malfoy,” said Ron, for about the hundredth time.

Because you’re stupid.

To quote my favourite detective in the world: “If I had an imagination, I’d cut it off.” “First facts. Every fact we can gather. Only then conclusions.” “The first rule in criminal investigation is not to let your personal likes and dislikes affect your conclusions.”

But just as Rowling isn’t writing an actual fantasy, neither is she writing an actual detective mystery.

This is not to say that you can’t combine genres if that’s what you want to do. In fact, it’s something I’d like to do myself. I have a couple of fantasy stories which would have a smidgen of detective mystery and horror. But that’s probably because I really like fairy talesque horror.

“To Miss Granger, wishing you a speedy recovery, from your concerned teacher, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League and five times winner of Witch-Weekly’s Most-Charming-Smile Award.”

One) What is the Order of Merlin? Why didn’t Harry work with these guys in the later books instead of Dumbles’ vigilante group of brainwashed pawns? …oh, I guess I answered my own question there.

Two) What do these classes mean? Dumbles’ was Order of Merlin, First Class, but I suspect he’s as fake as Gilderoy and the only reason why he got that rank was because he goaded Grindelwald into becoming a dark wizard or whatever, and then dealt with him. You know, kind of like FBI.

Three) Since Gilderoy is a total fraud — regardless of whether he stole other people’s accomplishments or faked them up — how and why was he given the Order of Merlin, Third Class? Doesn’t this Order have any standards? Was he actually given Order of Merlin, Third Class? Did he fake that up as well and somehow none of the brainless morons who are his fans realised? So in the end, it isn’t so much that Gilderoy is intelligent but that everyone else is absolutely brainless in comparison?

Four) What’s the Dark Force Defence League? Why didn’t Harry work with these guys in the later books instead of Dumbles’ vigilante group of brainwashed pawns? But I guess I answered that question, too.

Five) Why didn’t the Order of Merlin and the Dark Force Defence League feature in the later books anyway? Even if Harry worked with the Order of Phoenix — aka Dumbles’ vigilante group of brainwashed pawns — he could’ve, like, cooperated with the other factions? Besides, Harry wanted to be an Auror in the later books. Wouldn’t it have been good for him to have an internship with these factions? Or at least be acquainted with them?

. . . how many rat tails you were supposed to add to a Hair-Raising Potion . . . 

Hair-Raising Potion?

They stood still, their heads inclined towards Filch’s voice, which sounded quite hysterical.

“…even more work for me! Mopping all night, like I haven’t got enough to do! No, this is the final straw, I’m going to Dumbledore…“

You know, there’s something incredibly twisted about hiring to this job the one guy who has to do it manually. I guess Wizards just like watching those Muggles slaving away at their command. Remember, you can’t feel superior unless you keep people you consider inferior around~.

. . . A great flood of water stretched over half the corridor, and it looked as though it was still seeping from under the door of Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.

Come to think of it, didn’t Hermione lock herself up in the girls’ toilet on the second floor in the first book?

Well, it didn’t specify which floor it was on so I guess it might’ve been on the first floor. It was somewhere between the dungeons and the third floor anyway. But I don’t know, somehow I get the feeling that Rowling repurposed the toilet from the first book. She likes doing that after all.

Because nothing is a better sign of a brilliant author than retcons. To shamelessly quote my own crack fic:

“Ever wonder about the con in that word? It’s slander, I tell you.”

I think I have the most fun writing fics when I get to make meta jokes and obscure references that I’m pretty sure no one catches. I even made a joke about the kanji 好 in one of my fics. …..I really wish I get to finish that fic any day now, universe.

I miss writing. Why is it so difficult? Or rather, why am I such a massive loser?

Moaning Myrtle was crying, if possible, louder and harder than ever before. She seemed to be hiding down her usual toilet.

You know, why is Myrtle sticking around in the place where she died? In other stories, ghosts are usually bound to the place where they died but that doesn’t seem to be the case in Harry Potter since in chapter eight the ghosts could move freely about Britain. So, why doesn’t Myrtle go anywhere else? She could even travel the world.

Also, isn’t it convenient — or dare I say, An Unfortunate Coincidence — that Ginny decided to toss the diary out on this particular day? When our intrepid heroes ran out of “leads” that they weren’t looking for anyway? Instead of, say, when she was actually going around attacking people? Or a couple of months ago so we could’ve skipped the whole Polyjuice thing?

Isn’t it also mighty convenient that she decided to toss it in a toilet instead of the lake? Or borrowing an owl to drop it in the ocean? Or taking it to Dumbles, or her brothers, or anywhere else as if a book would flush down? Hell, she could’ve sent it to Dumbles or the Aurors anonymously if she didn’t want to incriminate herself.

Oh, wait, right:

“A lot of the greatest wizards haven’t got an ounce of logic, they’d be stuck in here for ever.”

Moreover, if these pipes are supposedly so large that a giant snake can move through them at ease, then why didn’t a teeny little book flush down? Because of the “plot”, such as it were.

Anyway, here’s a headcanon because it amuses me: Quirrell in the first book was an unwilling servant (until the last chapter) and Ginny here is a willing servant (until she got cold feet and decided to flush Tommy’s soul down a toilet).

“. . . And some old witch in Bath had a book that you could never stop reading! You just had to wander around with your nose in it, trying to do everything one-handed. . . .”

Oh gods, imagine if you could never stop reading these books.

The little book lay on the floor, nondescript and soggy.

“Well, we won’t find out unless we look at it,” he said, and he ducked round Ron and picked it off the floor.

Our hero, as intelligent as a particularly dumb rock. At least cast a spell at the potentially dark book, Harry? You know, with that wand thing you were so eager to have?

…..why am I even trying.

Harry saw at once that it was a diary, and the faded year on the cover told him it was fifty years old. He opened it eagerly. On the first page he could just make out the name ‘T. M. Riddle’ in smudged ink.

“Hang on,” said Ron, who had approached cautiously and was looking over Harry’s shoulder. “I know that name… T. M. Riddle got an award for special services to the school fifty years ago.”

Isn’t it an Unfortunate Coincidence that Rowling wrote these two so very stupid at the beginning of the book so they could end up in detention and Ron could impart this tidbit of information?

D’you know what else is an Unfortunate Coincidence? That Dumbles insists everyone calls Tommy Voldemort, instead of his real name. I’m sure that tidbit of information could’ve come in handy right about now. But hey, we all make mistakes — such as hiding the real identity of the Dark Wizard Extraordinaire who left bits of his raggedy soul lying around Britain.

…you know what? These books really do feel like generic RPGs.

“He never wrote in it,” said Harry, disappointed.

Because you were so eager to violate another person’s privacy?

Harry turned to the back cover of the book and saw the printed name of a newsagent’s in Vauxhall Road, London.

“He must’ve been Muggle-born,” said Harry thoughtfully, “to have bought a diary from Vauxhall Road…”

I don’t buy for a second that Harry would know this place. Harry lives in Surrey. That’s an hour’s away from London. I very much doubt that he’s been gallivanting in London’s random streets or that the Dursleys have regularly taken him there. If the Dursleys have taken him there, an easy fix could’ve been:

Harry turned to the back cover of the book and saw the printed name of a newsagent’s in Vauxhall Road, London. He blinked in surprise, recognising the name from when Aunt Petunia dragged him along there to buy a wedding card for her friend.

Not to mention that Harry is really bad with names. He doesn’t even know the names of kids he’s been going to class with for months or over a year. Why should I for a second believe he’d recognise the name of some small street in another city? Besides, why does he think Tommy bought it from a Muggle shop anyway? There could be a Wizarding shop there.

Hermione left the hospital wing, de-whiskered, tail-less and fur-free, at the beginning of February. On her first evening back in Gryffindor Tower, Harry showed her T. M. Riddle’s diary and told her the story of how they had found it.

Oh, it’s already February? And what have we achieved?

N O T H I N G.

Also, in the first book Harry just wiped off the troll’s snot from his wand and now he’s playing around with a diary he found in the toilet. All I’m getting from this is that Harry does not have even the most basic personal hygiene, and if I was Ginny I’d never date this kid let alone touch him. She’ll probably end up as one of those wives who have to remind their husbands to take a shower and change their clothes.

“Maybe it’s shy. I don’t know why you don’t chuck it, Harry.”

Oh, silly Ron. Of course he won’t because it’s a plot — such as it were — relevant item.

“I wouldn’t mind knowing how Riddle got an award for special services to Hogwarts, either.”

“Could’ve been anything,” said Ron. “Maybe he got thirty O.W.Ls or saved a teacher from the giant squid. Maybe he murdered Myrtle, that would’ve done everyone a favour…”

Ha. Clever.

As an aside, Ron gets to joke about this but Draco doesn’t? Like, Rowling, you don’t get to vilify your other characters for the exact same behaviour that your main characters do. It’s irritating.

As a second aside, I don’t see how that did everyone a favour since Myrtle just ended up haunting the toilet where she died. For whatever reason.

“We know the person who opened the Chamber last time was expelled fifty years ago. We know T. M. Riddle got an award for special services to the school fifty years ago. Well, what if Riddle got his special award for catching the heir of Slytherin? His diary would probably tell us everything: where the Chamber is, and how to open it, and what sort of creature lives in it. The person who’s behind the attacks this time wouldn’t want that lying around, would they?”

“That’s a brilliant theory, Hermione,” said Ron, “with just one tiny little flaw. There’s nothing written in his diary.”

Wait a moment, Ron. Back up a bit. There’re more problems in this theory than the diary being blank.

One) You’re assuming Tommy got his award catching the heir of Slytherin.

Two) You’re assuming there are two heirs of Slytherin. One fifty years ago and one currently. Like, how many descendants did Sally leave littering around?

Three) You’re assuming that the current heir of Slytherin was in possession of Tommy’s diary which conveniently would pertain all the information of the previous heir and the Chamber.

Four) You’re assuming that the current heir then tried to get rid of this diary for reasons unknown by flushing it down a toilet instead of keeping it safe on their person or sending it back home or anything else? This diary supposedly contains all the incriminating information and the current heir would just — leave it. Lying on the floor of a girls’ toilet.

Five) How is Hermione the smart character?

But Hermione was pulling her wand out of her bag.

“It might be invisible ink!” she whispered.

She tapped the diary three times and said, “Aparecium!“

Oh, right. This is how.

As an aside, I don’t really mind if authors don’t exposition the rules of their stories as long as what they show is consistent. The magic system and the world building in Harry Potter? Is not consistent.

Like, what branch of magic even is this spell? Give me something to work with here.

Harry couldn’t explain, even to himself, why he didn’t just throw Riddle’s diary away.

Yeah, no. Just stop right there.

The fact was that even though he knew the diary was blank, he kept absent-mindedly picking it up and turning the pages, as though it was a story he wanted to finish. And while Harry was sure he had never heard the name T. M. Riddle before, it still seemed to mean something to him, almost as though Riddle was a friend he’d had when he was very small, and half-forgotten.

This is the kind of thing I talked about in the first book. Why doesn’t Harry get feelings like this whenever he’s near Tommy or bits of Tommy’s raggedy soul? After all, Harry is housing a fragment of Tommy’s soul. You’d think that fragment would have an affinity to Tommy.

But instead, his scar always started hurting near Tommy and I don’t remember him feeling any sort of affinity for the other Horcruxes.

This could’ve been interesting. But nope.

Also, I find it hilarious that Harry didn’t learn a thing from this experience in Book Six.

But this was absurd. He’d never had friends before Hogwarts, Dudley had made sure of that.

But Harry totally hates Draco Malfoy more for — eeh, existing? The blonde hair?

Nevertheless, Harry was determined to find out more about Riddle . . .

So determined he dawdled for weeks first.

Riddle’s burnished gold shield was tucked away in a corner cabinet.

More gold! Maybe this is why gold is so cheap in this universe; these characters literally eat off of it. And Dumbles sits on a golden throne and his pet bird on a golden perch. How grand.

However, they did find Riddle’s name on an old Medal for Magical Merit, and on a list of old Head Boys.

Hey, Tommy was a Head Boy too. And we still don’t know what this title means or what they do. Because — world building. Or something.

“He sounds like Percy,” said Ron, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “Prefect, Head Boy — probably top of every class.”

What is all of these arsehole brothers deal with Percy? Like, go ahead. Shame and resent the kid who’s actually working hard to change his circumstances, you [censored].

Sorry about that. I’m just tired and tired of these dumbasses. They’re all so fucking petty. For no good, interesting reasons.

I mean, aside from Hermione — whose reputation as the smart character is largely undeserved — there seems to be this weird anti-intellectual slant in these books. Probably because of this:

“A lot of the greatest wizards haven’t got an ounce of logic, they’d be stuck in here for ever.”

But hey, it’s cool. All you need is blind faith in the authority of a child grooming creep, after all.

Unless Ron is still having a hissy fit over the implication that he doesn’t care about Ginny?

. . . and Madam Pomfrey was pleased to report that the Mandrakes were becoming moody and secretive, meaning that they were fast leaving childhood.

“The moment their acne clears up, they’ll be ready for re-potting again,” Harry heard her telling Filch kindly one afternoon. “And after that, it won’t be long until we’re cutting them up and stewing them. You’ll have Mrs Norris back in no time.”

One: Why is Madam Pomfrey reporting this? She isn’t growing them.

Two:

The Mandrakes didn’t like coming out of the earth, but didn’t seem to want to go back into it either. They squirmed, kicked, flailed their sharp little fists and gnashed their teeth . . .

. . . Professor Sprout wanted to fit socks and scarves on the Mandrakes, a tricky operation she would entrust to no one else . . .

So the wizards are basically cutting up and stewing what amount to sentient plant people? That’s not horrific at all.

Three: Why aren’t they getting these Mandrakes from somewhere else? Ask St Mungo. Ask a shop. DO SOMETHING.

Perhaps the heir of Slytherin had lost his or her nerve, thought Harry. It must be getting riskier and riskier to open the Chamber of Secrets, with the school so alert and suspicious.

Honestly! All subtext points to Ginny having been a willing servant or the one who used Tommy instead of the other way around. I’m going to go with this interpretation from now on. Because it’s too fucking funny.

Lockhart’s idea of a morale-booster became clear at breakfast time on February the fourteenth. . . .

The walls were all covered with large, lurid pink flowers. Worse still, heart-shaped confetti was falling from the pale blue ceiling. . . .

. . . Lockhart, wearing lurid pink robes to match the decorations, was waving for silence. The teachers on either side of him were looking stony-faced.

But they still let him go through with it. And yet another mention of what colours Gilderoy is wearing.

As an aside, in Finland we don’t really have this romantic connotation on Valentine’s Day. In Finland Valentine’s Day is known as “ystävänpäivä” which literally translates as “friend’s day”. I remember this one time in primary school, we made our friends these heart-shaped cards in class. Though, I’m not sure what the boys made.

That’s one more random bit of trivia for anyone who might read this, ha ha. I bet you have so much fun reading these.

Lockhart clapped his hands and through the doors to the Entrance Hall marched a dozen surly-looking dwarfs.

Dwarfs?

Where were these dwarfs in the later books?

Like, what? You can’t just — oh my god, you complete hack.

Okay, so. Rowling decided to make the whole “Muggleborn” versus “Pureblood” one of the central conflicts in her books. In spite of establishing it poorly, too late, or not at all. Not to mention that she completely failed to address the fact that her darling pets, who are inexplicably into Muggleborns, treat Muggles like garbage to be abused.

Or the fact that this is how she established the two sides of this conflict in her first book:

HAGRID:

He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley — there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal and next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, Harry saw a curly pig’s tail poking through a hole in his trousers.

He attacks a terrified eleven-year-old for something his dad said. After this it’s a bit hard to care about some twelve-year-old calling a girl Mudblood for dissing him.

DRACO:

“I really don’t think they should let the other sort in, do you? They’re just not the same, they’ve never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families.”

He simply wants to keep to his own kind. Which is just one big heap of whatever. Go for it, if that’s what you want. Were the purebloods ever even asked if they want Muggleborns in the very few territories they have? Oh waaaait, they weren’t. Even Sally was excommunicated for questioning it.

Imperialism is okay if you do it to nasty people~! — Wisdom of the Ages

But of course, you’re supposed to side with the sixty-year-old man who goes around attacking terrified children.

Anyhow, let’s forget these humans for a bit. What I want to know is, why is Hogwarts full of HUMANS? Where are all the goblin-, the dwarf-, the skeleton-, the house-elf-, or the ghost-students? Where are all the hag-, the vampire-, or the werewolf-students?

“Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion!”

Or in other words, the date rape drug. Except worse because a Love Potion rapes your mind as well. Isn’t it curious that the only character who used it as it was intended was Tommy’s mom? Otherwise it’s treated as a harmless lark. Because yeah, nothing is funnier than a predatory potion that leaves the victim completely susceptible and vulnerable to some creep “playing a prank”.

Authors, if nothing else, could you please think the stuff you write through?

Hot all over at the thought of being given a Valentine in front of a queue of first-years, which happened to include Ginny Weasley, Harry tried to escape.

Is this supposed to foreshadow their true love?

“What’s going on here?” came the cold, drawling voice of Draco Malfoy. Harry started stuffing everything feverishly into his ripped bag, desperate to get away before Malfoy could hear his musical Valentine.

Because Harry is weirdly self-conscious over what Draco thinks of him as well. He was like this in the first book, too, about Quidditch. In contrast, I don’t think Draco cares what Harry thinks at all. I think that train sailed when Harry was a rude gitface to him for basically no reason.

But hey, at least this will make Draco’s day! ♡

Losing his head, Harry tried to make a run for it, but the dwarf seized him around the knees and brought him crashing to the floor.

“Right,” he said, sitting on Harry’s ankles, “here’s your singing Valentine . . .”

Ha ha ha, at least now it makes sense why there were no dwarfs in the later books. They were too awesome for this series.

. . . but Harry had lost his temper. He pulled out his wand and shouted, “Expelliarmus!” and just as Snape had disarmed Lockhart, so Malfoy found the diary shooting out of his hand into the air.

Oh.

…..oh.

I’m…

*despairs*

Why would you undermine, like, the entire premise of your own story? Why are these characters in a school when they don’t even need to learn or practise spells? Just give them a stick and a magic word and they’ll do all the spells dandily! Because what even is hard work? And I dare anyone to tell me Harry is such a great wizard he doesn’t need no practice.

I feel the sudden urge to beat my head against a wall.

Also, do note that there wasn’t a dazzling flash of scarlet light.

Weeeell, to be fair, there was this:

Harry found it peaceful, rather than gloomy, and enjoyed the fact that he, Hermione and the Weasleys had the run of Gryffindor Tower, which meant they could play Exploding Snap loudly without bothering anyone, and practise duelling in private.

But I’m not sure if I want to count it. Because when these dumbasses were in the actual “Duelling Club” they did every spell except Expelliarmus. There’s no reason why Rowling couldn’t have added: . . . and practise duelling and disarming each other in private.

Like, give us something a bit more specific than just “duelling”. At least let us S E E Harry actually learning and practising a single spell. But nope. All of these characters just pull spells right out of their arse when they need them.

. . . All his other books were drenched in scarlet ink.

Scarlet ink? Isn’t red text kind of annoying to read? Do the rest of the Houses use green, blue and yellow ink? Or is this just Harry’s quirk?

“Lucky that I recorded my memories in some more lasting way than ink.”

Notice the word ‘some’. It’s as if this fragment of Tommy doesn’t know how he recorded it. I mean, I’m not sure if there’s an actual difference but ‘some more lasting way’ makes me think he doesn’t know himself what he did while ‘a more lasting way’ makes me think he does know but isn’t telling, for obvious reasons.

“In my fifth year, the Chamber was opened and the monster attacked several students, finally killing one.”

What was the use of this snake again? It has as terrible on-screen murder record as Tommy.

“A story was given out that the girl had died in a freak accident.”

Um, that girl became a ghost? Why didn’t she go around telling everyone how she died? I mean, how do you hush up something when the victim herself is still, well, around? Why didn’t her parents raise absolute hell over this?

“I can show you, if you like,” came Riddle’s reply. “You don’t have to take my word for it. I can take you inside my memory of the night when I caught him.”

. . .

The pages of the diary began to blow as though caught in a high wind, stopping halfway through the month of June. Mouth hanging open, Harry saw that the little square for June the thirteenth seemed to have turned into a miniscule television screen. His hands trembling slightly, he raised the book to press his eye against the little window, and before he knew what was happening, he was tilting forwards; the window was widening, he felt his body leave his bed and he was pitched headfirst through the opening in the page, into a whirl of colour and shadow.

So not only is this diary a “Horcrux”, it also appears to be a Pensieve. Why aren’t all wizards storing their memories like this instead of putting them in vials and viewing them in re-purposed bird baths? Because of world building! Isn’t it great that magic just does whatever you need to in the moment and then you can forget all about it?

Fantasy: The Easiest Crap to Write.

A boy of about sixteen entered, taking off his pointed hat.

Harry really doesn’t listen to other people, does he? Tommy already said this all happened during his fifth year, meaning he’s fifteen. Well, it’s not wrong or anything but it’s just weird because Tommy already told us his age.

“My dear boy,” said Dippet kindly, “I cannot possibly let you stay at school over the summer. Surely you want to go home for the holidays?”

“No,” said Riddle at once, “I’d much rather stay at Hogwarts than go back to that — to that–“

Tommy, you’re almost sixteen. Get a part-time job and stay at a hostel or something. That’s what I’ll have Severus do in my fic. If I’ll ever get to writing it, I mean. I would like to, since I kind of promised my friend and I generally like to keep my promises.

And you know what? Considering how neglectful and abusive wizards are towards children, I’m surprised they don’t have more Tommies running around.

“My mother died just after I was born, sir. They told me at the orphanage she lived just long enough to name me: Tom after my father, Marvolo after my grandfather.”

Ha ha, that name. No wonder he hates the world.

Would you be afraid of a bloke whose name is Marvolo? It sounds like a pack of cigarettes, ha ha. Not that Voldemort is exactly awe-inspiring either.

“The thing is, Tom,” he sighed, “special arrangements might have been made for you, but in the current circumstances…”

. . .

“Sir — if the person was caught… If it all stopped…”

Well, good to know Tommy and the rest of the wizards were just as stupid fifty years ago as they are now.

First) Tommy doesn’t want to go back to the orphanage so to ensure Hogwarts will let him stay over the break, he goes on an assault and murder spree!

Second) So Tommy asks could he stay if the person or thing responsible for said assault and murder spree is caught and no one at all is suspicious when he five minutes later captures the “perpetrator”.

But hey:

“A lot of the greatest wizards haven’t got an ounce of logic, they’d be stuck in here for ever.”

Logic is hard.

Riddle watched him out of sight . . .

Oh. I guess you can use this like this. Maybe it feels a bit weird for me since English isn’t my mother language.

“Evening, Rubeus,” said Riddle sharply.

The boy slammed the door shut and stood up.

“What yer doin’ down here, Tom?”

The biggest plot twist! These two dumbasses knew each other! And Hagrid still doesn’t know Voldemort is Tommy. These people.

Riddle stepped closer. 

“It’s all over,” he said. “I’m going to have to turn you in, Rubeus. They’re talking about closing Hogwarts if the attacks won’t stop.”

“I don’t think you meant to kill anyone. But monsters don’t make good pets. I suppose you just let it out for exercise and–“

“Come on, Rubeus,” said Riddle, moving yet closer. “The dead girl’s parents will be here tomorrow. The least Hogwarts can do is make sure that the thing that killed their daughter is slaughtered…”

Young Tommy is so clever. He’s acting even when no one’s there. Hagrid doesn’t count, I think, since he’s framing him.

And you have no idea how happy I am that Hagrid is finally facing the consequences for his own actions even if he’s kind of taking the fall for Tommy.

His spell lit the corridor with a sudden flaming light. The door behind the large boy flew open with such force it knocked him into the wall opposite.

Honestly, I feel that Rowling is writing whatever strikes her as “cool” in the moment instead of any sort of consistency.

. . . And out of it came something that made Harry let out a long, piercing scream no one but he seemed to hear.

Ha ha ha, what a wuss.

“It was Hagrid, Ron. Hagrid opened the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago.”

Oh come on, Harry. Rowling doesn’t admit it even when Hagrid does do something. As if she’d ever deliberately write Hagrid fucking up and murdering someone.

Harry’s spell count so far: *extremely grudgingly* two.

“Harry — you’re a great wizard, you know.”

Chapter Twelve – The Polyjuice Potion

So I would like to start by saying I was wrong! I went and checked the first book, and there actually were two instances of light effects.

First, in chapter four:

He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley — there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker . . .

Oddly, this one even has a sound effect. Which may be because Hagrid attacked Dudley with a broken wand.

Second, in chapter five:

He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls.

And just to be fair, in chapter nine Ron mentions:

“The most you and Malfoy’ll be able to do is send sparks at each other. Neither of you knows enough magic to do any real damage.”

There you go. I apologise for the misinformation. Also, in my list of what sorts of magics we’ve seen so far I forgot to mention the litany of mutters that Severus — and I suppose Quirrell, though we didn’t see it — did during Harry’s first Quidditch match in the first book.

I guess I would understand if the sparks were — what’s the word — like fizzles of unfocused magic? But they’re not, at least not in any consistent capacity.

I still don’t mind that magic has light effects but it’s so randomised that it doesn’t tell me anything. It seems to happen more often when a person attacks someone, but it doesn’t make sense to me that you’d broadcast your attack with a flash of Yule lights. Never mind that Draco didn’t get light effects when he was duelling with Harry so there goes that theory anyway.

It kind of feels like a video game mechanic. For those who haven’t played many or any video games, the magic in them always has visual effects and usually audio effects. That’s why I wondered in the previous entry when the first Harry Potter video game was made but there went that theory too.

One thing was certain: of all the teachers’ offices Harry had visited so far this year, Dumbledore’s was by far the most interesting.

Of all? I guess, Severus and… does Argus count? I think he went to Minerva’s office last year.

If he hadn’t been scared out of his wits that he was about to be thrown out of school, he would have been very pleased to have a chance to look around it.

He thinks, and then proceeds to describe the room. Also, our eleventh mention of expulsion and Harry still hasn’t been thrown out. You’d think Harry would’ve realised by now that these people will never kick him out if they can help it.

Surely it couldn’t hurt if he took the Hat down and tried it on again? Just to see… just to make sure it had put him in the right house.

You know what Hogwarts should do? Teach these kids some basic common sense and logic.

Okay, so granted, peers influence the outcome of people as much — if not more — than their parents. Because peers are a constant, regular influence. Especially if your parents aren’t emotionally and/or physically present.

But I just — it grates on me something fierce, Harry and the narrative’s subconscious idea that your school house and basically the colour of your school uniform somehow influence who you are or will become as a person. Because if that’s the case, you gotta have some real weak sense of identity.

Like, the narrative sets Slytherins up as these evil, nasty, ugly people who aren’t even fully human (remember, Harry described Marcus as trollish and Millicent as a hag). Which means that every Slytherin is like this — eleven-year-old kids included. This is called dehumanisation. Which is one of the steps to genocide.

But at the same time, Harry is being an utterly ridiculous moron because the Sorting Hat didn’t describe Slytherin as the House of Evil. It just said they’re ambitious and cunning and you’ll find your true friends there, nothing which immediately makes a person evil. There are very few people who are truly evil or truly good, most of them just exist.

Besides, the idea that people who seek power are inherently evil is insidious because it’s a self-defeating idea. Because that pretty much guarantees that power will always be in the hands of evil people. The complementary idea to that is, y’see, that power should only be in the hands of people who don’t seek it. But if they don’t seek it how exactly d’you suppose they’ll ever obtain it? Power doesn’t fall out of the sky in the lap of someone who’s not interested. Even if it did, they’d probably just toss it away and go about their life as usual.

If you think about it, it’s basically saying that if you want to be a good person you have to be completely powerless.

As an aside, when I talk about power I don’t necessarily mean power over others. What I mean is, power over your own life. Because that’s important. As I’ve mentioned before, a person doesn’t necessarily get PTSD because of a traumatic event itself but because of a lack of control during the traumatic event. So what d’you imagine will eventually happen when people aren’t taught the will to power, the struggle for power, and power itself is equated with corrupting evil?

Standing on a golden perch behind the door . . .

Dumbles sure likes his gold.

Harry was just thinking that all he needed was for Dumbledore’s pet bird to die while he was alone in the office with it, when the bird burst into flames.

Harry yelled in shock and backed away into the desk. He looked feverishly around in case there was a glass of water somewhere, but couldn’t see one.

You know, I think this is the first time I’ve found Harry actually cute. But it does make me question how ignorant Harry is since he doesn’t seem to know anything about anything. I started reading fantasy quite early — not to mention I mostly played fantasy games — so my perception might be a bit skewed but aren’t phoenixes sufficiently well-known that most people would’ve at least heard of them? Like, I don’t know. So far Rowling has used really common fantasy creatures so I just find it a little weird that Harry’s so ignorant and shocked by them. Not to mention he’s basically lived in the Wizarding world for a year already and he still doesn’t know anything.

Like, kid. Open a book (like Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Book One). Or talk to people. Not that most purebloods know much more about their own world than Harry but that’s beside the point.

“He’s really very handsome most of the time: wonderful red and gold plumage. Fascinating creatures, phoenixes. They can carry immensely heavy loads, their tears have healing powers and they make highly faithful pets.”

Why the stress on faithful? Since my opinion of Dumbles isn’t very high — to put it extremely mildly — all I’m getting from this is that the creep likes his pets and pawns faithful. Or in other words, unthinking obsequious idiots.

. . . said Dumbledore, seating himself behind his desk.

. . . as Dumbledore settled himself in the high-backed chair behind the desk . . .

???

Aren’t these basically the same thing?

. . . as Dumbledore settled himself in the high-backed chair behind the desk and fixed Harry with his penetrating, light-blue stare.

Harry waited nervously while Dumbledore considered him, the tips of his long fingers together.

“I must ask you, Harry, whether there is anything you’d like to tell me,” he said gently. “Anything at all.”

Oh, Dumbles is so clever. First, he establishes eye contact. Second, he asks a rather non-specific, broad question which undoubtedly makes the other person think of all the answers to that question. Which is precisely what Harry does.

Also, I guess this is as good a time as any to bring this up.

Did you know that some people don’t have an inner voice? You know that voice in your head that chatters to you all the time? Some people think in pictures, some in feelings. For example, I think in words (as an aside, how to know you’re fluent in a foreign language? When your inner voice chats to you in that language), but I also think in pictures. While I was writing, I was visualising most of the scenes. I haven’t been able to visualise the next scene at all which is probably why I’m having such a massive writer’s block right now.

But anyway, how does that work with mind reading? Do you hear the same inner voice as the person themself? Do you see the words they think? Or the pictures they think? Or do you feel their emotions? If the person doesn’t have an inner voice, or pictures, or feelings, then can you read them at all?

Has anyone ever actually written a full mind reader with these variations or do they just leave it at mind reading? I think it would be interesting.

And to further extrapolate on this, would it be easier to mind control someone with or without an inner voice? Like, let’s presume that mind control works by corrupting the inner voice of the person. So if that person doesn’t have an inner voice to corrupt, then mind controlling them would be impossible? Or would the person without inner voice be easier to mind control precisely because they don’t have an inner voice that can, like, contradict that mind control?

But Harry was glad that most people were leaving. He was tired of people skirting around him in the corridors, as though he was about to sprout fangs or spit poison; tired of all the muttering, pointing and hissing as he passed.

Fred and George, however, found all this very funny.

Considering these are the same people who ostracised Harry for weeks in the first book because he lost some house points — and that includes our darling animal abusers, Fred and George — shouldn’t Harry be used to this by now? It’s just more of the same.

A kindly reminder:

From being one of the most popular and admired people at the school, Harry was suddenly the most hated. Even the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs turned on him, because everyone had been longing to see Slytherin lose the House Cup. Everywhere Harry went, people pointed and didn’t trouble to lower their voices as they insulted him.

But even Quidditch had lost its fun. The rest of the team wouldn’t speak to Harry during practice, and if they had to speak about him, they called him ‘the Seeker’.

Nobody bothered them; none of the Gryffindors had anything to say to Harry any more, after all.

I neither forget nor forgive. Because if Harry hadn’t almost gotten himself killed going after Quirrell, I assure you these same people would still be ostracising him. Unless they got bored of it during the summer hols.

Ginny didn’t find it amusing either.

“Oh, don’t,” she wailed every time Fred asked Harry loudly who he was planning to attack next, or George pretended to ward Harry off with a large clove of garlic when they met.

So, considering that all the victims so far had some kind of conflict with Harry — Nicholas excluded — I find it hard to believe that the victims were chosen solely by Tommy. I mean, Argus was going to punish Harry, Colin was acting like an annoying creepy stalker, and Justin was acting all hissy because of the whole “heir of Slytherin” thing. Isn’t this way too much of a coincidence if Tommy chose them because they were Muggleborns and Squibs? According to the first book, Hogwarts is full of Muggleborns. If the only criterion is being a Muggleborn, then why haven’t there been more victims? The snake doesn’t even eat the victims so it’s not like it’s taking a break between each to digest them.

Besides, it’s just funnier if Ginny was the one behind all of this and Tommy was just a red herring.

But their antics seemed to be aggravating Draco Malfoy, who looked increasingly sour each time he saw them at it.

Was this explained?

By the way, why aren’t they inviting Aurors to investigate this mysterious string of petrifications? Aren’t Aurors the Wizarding equivalent of police? Aren’t assaulted children kind of a big deal? Why doesn’t anyone seem to care? All they seem to do is gossip. What about Colin and Justin’s parents? Were they ever informed? I certainly wouldn’t put it past Dumbles not to tell them.

Why aren’t any of these characters reacting like human beings?

Fred, George and Ginny had chosen to stay at school rather than visit Bill in Egypt with Mr and Mrs Weasley.

The Weasleys are so poor they can apparently make annual trips to their wayward children.

“I’ve been up for nearly an hour, adding more lacewings to the Potion. It’s ready.”

If the lacewing flies had to be stewed for twenty-one days, why is she adding them? The new lacewings don’t have to be stewed? Besides, this potion has flies, leeches, Bicorn horn, and Boomslang skin, and all Ron worried about was bits of Vincent?

The kid doesn’t have priorities, does he?

At that moment, Hedwig swooped into the room, carrying a very small package in her beak.

“Hello,” said Harry happily, as she landed on his bed, “are you speaking to me again?”

Well, you could’ve, you know, gone to apologise to her and then she might’ve spoken to you sooner? But, well, why should the Great Harry Potter go out of his way to do anything for anyone.

But anyhow, this package is from the Dursleys. This seems to imply that owls have an in-built sense when people want to send packages to their owner and then they go fetch them. But on the other hand, I don’t see why the Dursleys would want to send Harry anything even if it is to ask him to take a hike. Which reminds me:

They had sent Harry a toothpick and a note telling him to find out whether he’d be able to stay at Hogwarts for the summer holidays, too.

This from the people who sure seemed keen to keep Harry this summer.

Harry opened the last present to find a new, hand-knitted jumper from Mrs Weasley, and a large plum cake. He put up her card with a fresh surge of guilt, thinking about Mr Weasley’s car, which hadn’t been seen since its crash with the Whomping Willow . . .

Harry’s not feeling guilt. How do I know that? Because one) we haven’t seen or been told that he apologised to the Weasleys and two) he hasn’t thought about the car or the Weasleys since — chapter five. Maybe six. Since the Howler anyway.

But hey, why should Harry apologise to anyone or work for anything when the author is just going to fix everything for him? Case in point: Hedwig.

“And obviously, it’ll be best if you can get something of Crabbe and Goyle’s; they’re Malfoy’s best friends, he’ll tell them anything.”

Oh, are they? Funny he couldn’t keep them then. But I guess the author thought Draco Malfoy doesn’t deserve best friends, wives, or hair because fuck Draco Malfoy. You know, if Rowling wanted Draco to be unlikeable and vile, she really failed to write him that way. I vaguely recall that she warned Draco’s fans not to like him or about the dangers of falling for “bad boys” — because yeah, telling your readers which characters they’re allowed to like is top-notch authorship. Great job.

But anyway, Draco isn’t even a “bad boy”. I know that in the fandom that image of him was popular for a while, but the kid is just a big dork. I mean, he’s the kid who wanted to smuggle a racing broom to the school, impress everyone with his mad flying skills, and become a Seeker as a first-year.

And to kindly remind you, Draco didn’t start the feud with the Golden Trio. When he first met Harry in the robe shop, he was polite — if not “nice”, whatever your definition of “nice” is. Harry was the taciturn, rude gitface who judged him within three seconds. And even then their conversation didn’t really start to spiral downwards until:

“Yes, exactly. I heard he’s a sort of savage — lives in a hut in the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic and ends up setting fire to his bed.”

“I think he’s brilliant,” said Harry coldly.

“Do you?” said the boy, with a slight sneer.

And this didn’t happen until two pages in. So what I was surprised about was Draco’s patience with Harry. Besides, as you can see there’s not a single thing wrong in what Draco said about Hagrid. Hell, there isn’t even a judgement in what he said about Hagrid. He just described what happens. If you think his use of the word savage is dubious, let me remind you:

He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild . . . 

savage (adj.)

mid-13c., “fierce, ferocious;” c. 1300, “wild, undomesticated, untamed” (of animals and places), from Old French, salvage “wild, savage, untamed, strange, pagan” . . .

savage (n.)

“wild person,” c. 1400, from savage (adj.).

— source: savage

He’s simply describing him in the exact same way as Rowling.

Also, objectively Harry is completely wrong about Hagrid being “brilliant”. Because Hagrid is, objectively, a piece of shit. Of course, subjectively Harry can find Hagrid as brilliant as he wants but that doesn’t make him so.

Before Harry and Draco’s second meeting on the train, Harry latched onto the Weasley family before Ron came creeping in for a look at The Boy Wonder. When Draco comes around to do the same, Harry judges his friends as well within three seconds even though Gregory and Vincent neither said nor did anything. Ron sniggers at his name and then Harry rejects him. Draco even said Harry was being rude:

“I’d be careful if I were you, Potter,” he said slowly. “Unless you’re a bit politer you’ll go the same way as your parents. . . .”

Unless you’re a bit politer~. The rest is just Draco choosing his words so he’ll hurt them back.

After this, both Harry and Ron act like psychopathic creeps towards Draco while Draco basically riles them up for fun whenever he sees them. As for Hermione, he didn’t say or do anything to Hermione during the entirety of the first book. Not a word, even when Hermione was right there with Ron and Harry.

But Hermione on the other hand…

Hermione did a sort of jig.

“Malfoy’s got detention! I could sing!”

So these:

“At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in,” said Hermione sharply. “They got in on pure talent.”

“No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood,” he spat.

were literally the first words they exchanged with each other. And we already know from the first book that Draco becomes really offensive when he feels defensive and slighted. He’s never said or done anything to this Muggleborn girl, but her first words to him were basically: you suck. Never mind that his father already disparaged him about her.

And remember, Draco has wanted to play Quidditch since before first year. The dork wanted to smuggle a racing broom to the school. He must’ve been so, so happy when he finally made it into the team and then this rude stranger is completely shitting all over that.

Sure, calling her a Mudblood was rude but context matters. So far, Draco has only reacted to, not initiated, Harry, Ron and Hermione’s behaviour. He’s never been rude to people first — huh, except maybe Neville. I wonder if they knew each other before Hogwarts?

I was trying to think of reasons why Rowling seems completely oblivious to this, or what she’s writing, or how her characters are behaving. Then I thought about what Harry said about Lucius:

“His father’s definitely evil enough.”

And yeah, yeah, Lucius might very well be evil, that’s not the point. The point is, how does Harry know that? Because he doesn’t. All he knows about Lucius at this point is gossip, the five minutes he spied on him in Borgin and Burkes, and the thirty seconds in the bookshop. That’s hardly enough time or information to decide Lucius is evil or evil enough. Evil is kind of a big word; Harry might’ve found Lucius unlikeable and unpleasant, but that still wouldn’t make him evil.

Of course, Harry ends up being right because Rowling doesn’t seem to understand that Harry’s point of view isn’t her point of view.

So I got this theory which may or may not be true. It’s like when Rowling first came up with these characters, she got these preconceived ideas of who they are. Like, obviously. Because she’s the author. But then she never let them grow beyond those preconceived ideas, and she completely forgot to write them that way. That’s why it doesn’t matter what kind of sketchy, psychopathic stuff her darling pets do because that’s not who they are, and in her mind she’s already proactively and retroactively justified like, say, Harry’s treatment of Draco. This is just narcissism in written form.

These books, man. These books.

Harry and Ron had barely finished their third helpings of Christmas pudding . . .

Remind me again, Rowling, how much does Dudley eat? Or wait:

“I’ve got it all worked out,” she went on smoothly, ignoring Harry and Ron’s stupefied faces. She held up two plump chocolate cakes. “I’ve filled these with a simple Sleeping Draught. All you have to do is make sure Crabbe and Goyle find them. You know how greedy they are, they’re bound to eat them. Once they’re asleep, pull out a few of their hairs and hide them in a broom cupboard.”

So within a couple of paragraphs Rowling, again, goes from describing how much her darling pets eat — because they’re growing boys, they should have some meat on their bones — to shaming Vincent and Gregory for doing the same.

Also, does this not sound creepy to you? Drugging a couple of kids and shoving them into the cupboard for a prejudiced conjecture about a boy they don’t like? Oh, I’m sorry, I meant “investigation”. They even stole their shoes. Besides, where’d Hermione get the Sleeping Draught?

Here’s a fun fact: the difference between narcissism and psychopathy is that the narcissist has a constructed identity they use as a basis for their behaviour and which needs constant affirmation from others. This is why every time they act like the psychopaths that they actually are, their story always starts with a but.

HAGRID: Sure, I attacked a terrified eleven-year-old boy but…

HERMIONE: Sure, I petrified Neville and left him alone in the dark but…

HARRY: Sure, I drugged a couple of kids but…

DUMBLES: Sure, I’m grooming a kid to be a sacrificial pig but…

Sense a theme here? This is why I call these characters psychopathic little shits.

These books are like prime examples of anti-social personality disorders: we’ve got narcissism, psychopathy, sociopathy, casual animal abuse, casual child abuse, shaming, bullying, hypocrisy, double think, cognitive dissonance, etc. And these are the books which were the voice of a generation. Think about that for a moment. Like, really think about that for a moment.

Which is not to say that there is nothing good about these books — although I’m personally hard-pressed to find anything aside from Draco. And Marcus, I quite like Marcus. And I’m not trying to make you feel bad about liking them. You can like them all you want for and in spite of what they are. I. Don’t. Care.

And frankly, you shouldn’t care about the opinion of some random person on the internet, either.

“I’ve already got mine!” said Hermione brightly, pulling a tiny bottle out of her pocket and showing them the single hair inside it. “Remember Millicent Bulstrode wrestling with me at the Duelling Club! She left this on my robes when she was trying to strangle me! And she’s gone home for Christmas — so I’ll just have to tell the Slytherins I’ve decided to come back.”

For an hour? Also, I find it hard to believe that Hermione wasn’t able to tell the difference between cat hair and human hair. Besides, what made her think the hair was from Millicent anyway? Never mind animal hair, the hair could’ve been anyone’s. Like, majority of the time Rowling writes Hermione as the only competent, knowledgeable character — because she’s using her as an exposition and plot device — but at other times she writes her as an utter moron.

They could hardly see for the thick black smoke issuing from the cubicle in which Hermione was stirring the cauldron.

They heard the scrape of the lock and Hermione emerged . . .

Surely this lock is, like, a totally necessary and useful precaution. No one’s going to notice a thing!

“Good. And I sneaked these spare robes out of the laundry,” Hermione said, holding up a small sack. “You’ll need bigger sizes once you’re Crabbe and Goyle.”

So they don’t wear anything underneath the robes?

Then, her hand trembling, she shook Millicent Bulstrode’s hair out of its bottle into the first glass.

The Potion hissed loudly like a boiling kettle and frothed madly. A second later, it had turned a sick sort of yellow.

“Urgh — essence of Millicent Bulstrode,” said Ron, eyeing it with loathing.

Apparently, the essence of a cat is yellow.

“Hang on,” said Harry, as Ron and Hermione reached for their glasses. “We’d better not drink them in here: once we turn into Crabbe and Goyle we won’t fit. And Millicent Bulstrode’s no pixie.”

Careful: it’s thinking.

His large hands trembling, he pulled off his old robes, which were hanging a foot above his ankles . . .

Ha ha, Harry’s so much shorter than Gregory.

“We’d better get going,” said Harry, loosening the watch that was cutting into Goyle’s thick wrist. “We’ve still got to find out where the Slytherin common room is, I only hope we can find someone to follow…”

You don’t even know that? You had a month. What were you doing during that time, sitting on your arse? Someone remind me again, why are these kids the main characters?

“Hermione, we know Millicent Bulstrode’s ugly, no one’s going to know it’s you.”

You know what? I’m going to write Millicent growing up to be a supermodel.

“Excuse me,” said Ron, hurrying up to her, “we’ve forgotten the way to our common room.”

“I beg your pardon?” said the girly stiffly. “Our common room? I’m a Ravenclaw.”

She walked away, looking suspiciously back at them.

That’s great, but who asked? Like, Ron might’ve just as well meant his and Harry’s common room. Our doesn’t necessarily include you, nameless girl. She could’ve easily just said, “I see. They’re in the dungeons. Goodbye.”

Besides, if I’m not entirely mistaken, isn’t this Penelope? Percy’s girlfriend? Wasn’t she a Prefect as well? Why isn’t she helping a couple of underclassmen even if they’re in a different house?

They walked deeper and deeper under the school, constantly checking their watches to see how much time they had left.

And this is why you could’ve used that month you had for finding out pertinent information like where’s the Slytherin common room. But of course you didn’t. Because you’re stupid.

Malfoy paused by a stretch of bare, damp stone wall.

. . . and a stone door concealed in the wall slid open.

Huh. In fan fics, there was a statue in front of the Slytherin common room. This is the last time I’ll believe a single word in fan fics.

“Wait here,” said Malfoy to Harry and Ron, motioning them to a pair of empty chairs back from the fire. “I’ll go and get it — my father’s just sent it to me–“

. . . 

Malfoy came back a minute later, holding what looked like a newspaper cutting. He thrust it under Ron’s nose.

“That’ll give you a laugh,” he said.

Does he know Ron’s pretending to be Vincent? I find it kind of curious he’d immediately thrust it at Ron, but then Draco did pick Vincent to be his — what was it called — second in the midnight duel that never was.

Besides, Lucius is so weird. Who sends their kid newspaper clippings? But apparently he knows his kid well enough to know that Draco has a morbid sense of humour, ha ha. ♡

It had been clipped out of the Daily Prophet, and it said:

ENQUIRY AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC

Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, was today fined fifty Galleons for bewitching a Muggle car.

Doesn’t Arthur kind of deserve this for abusing his position as the Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts? So it’s okay for him but not for others? Guess what, that’s called narcissism.

ARTHUR: Sure, I abused my position but…

“You know, I’m surprised the Daily Prophet hasn’t reported all these attacks yet,” he went on thoughtfully. “I suppose Dumbledore’s trying to hush it all up. He’ll be sacked if it doesn’t stop soon. Father’s always said Dumbledore’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to this place.”

Oh my god, someone else thinks so too! I knew there’s a reason why Draco is my favourite. ♡

“I wish I knew who it is,” said Malfoy petulantly. “I could help them.”

. . . Harry, thinking fast, said, “You must have some idea who’s behind it all…”

“You know, I haven’t, Goyle, how many times do I have to tell you?” snapped Malfoy. “And father won’t tell me anything about the last time the Chamber was opened, either. Of course, it was fifty years ago, so it was before his time, but he knows all about it, and he says it was all kept quiet and it’ll look suspicious if I know too much about it. But I know one last thing: last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood died. So I bet it’s only a matter of time before one of them’s killed this time… I hope it’s Granger,” he said with relish.

Draco sure carries his grudges. I know I probably shouldn’t find this funny but considering he’s pretty much the only character I like in these books, weeeell…

So anyway, as you can probably see, this conversation is just a long “As you know, Bob” between Draco, Harry and Ron. He must’ve had this conversation before with Vincent and Gregory, but luckily he’s having it again for no reason other than for the readers’ benefit.

He shifted restlessly in his chair and said, “Father says to keep my head down and let the heir of Slytherin get on with it. He says the school needs ridding of all the Mudblood filth, but not to get mixed up in it. Of course, he’s got a lot on his plate at the moment. You know the Ministry of Magic raided our Manor last week?”

. . .

“Yeah…” said Malfoy. “Luckily, they didn’t find much. Father’s got some very valuable Dark arts stuff. But luckily, we’ve got our own secret chamber under the drawing-room floor–“

Oh god, Rowling, stop. Just stop. Please stop. I’m getting massive second-hand embarrassment from this whole thing. Like, Draco, Vincent and Gregory are friends. They were friends before Hogwarts. It’s been four months since the school year started. They must’ve had this conversation before and they must already know all this. Find another way to present this information to the reader or don’t write it at all.

. . . Moaning Myrtle sped them on their way with a hearty guffaw.

“Wait till everyone finds out you’ve got a tail!”

Well, at least they made her day.

Harry’s spell count so far: one.

“Harry — you’re a great wizard, you know.”

---

This post is a little uninspired and probably incoherent in places. I was tired a lot as I was writing this so that’s why. Note to self: don’t have naps late in the evening before you should go to bed. It also didn’t help that I’ve been feeling really down about a lot of things.

Chapter Eleven – the Duelling Club

Why call it the Duelling Club when there is no club (or much of real duelling)?

Also, it has come to my knowledge — through potterwikia — that Hogwarts has clubs. Well, it doesn’t actually call them clubs but “extra-curricular subjects”. Such as: art, ghoul studies, magical theory, muggle art, muggle music, music, and xylomancy. None of these feature in the actual books.

But that’s not what’s funny. The funny thing is, if this were a Japanese story then Harry, Ron and I suppose even Hermione would be in the “go-home club”.

Honestly, Rowling basically gave us the worst possible main character — and thus point of view — for a fantasy. Thanks to Harry being utterly uninterested in everything — magic, his peers, his pet (he still hasn’t apologised to Hedwig!!), the world at large — the readers don’t get to see or experience anything. Of course, the only reason why Harry is the point of view is for that good ol’ “fish out of water” so the author can explain all the “fantasy things” to their audience like they’re stupid.

Oh, the joy.

I feel like I’m getting more and more sarcastic as I keep doing these.

Also, I really need to pause this program to talk about the Homorphus Charm at more length.

“. . . performed the immensely complex Homorphus Charm . . . the fur vanished — the fangs shrank — and he turned back into a man. Simple, yet effective — and another village will remember me forever as the hero who delivered them from the monthly terror of werewolf attacks.”

If this is not a real spell, then shouldn’t everyone who’s read Gilderoy’s book have realised the guy is a total fraud who fabricates spells out of his arse? Or is the Hogwarts education so abysmal that no one knows their spells? Hermione at least should’ve realised something since Hermione knows every spell. Because, of course.

If it is a real spell then  — and the answer to this will break the third book and Lupin’s entire character — why are there werewolves? Because the spell turns them back into humans and Gilderoy seems to imply it keeps them that away.

“. . . who delivered them from the monthly terror of werewolf attacks.”

If there is a spell to cure or at least reverse lycanthropy then — no matter how complex it is to cast — why aren’t people using it? Why aren’t families with werewolves learning it through an intensive course or whatever? Why aren’t mediwitches using it?

Why does Rowling have to break her own world building?

Harry woke up on Sunday morning to find the dormitory blazing with winter sunlight and his arm re-boned but very stiff.

Would new bones be stiff? Aren’t baby bones soft? And kids’ bones in general should be more flexible? Growing new bones isn’t quite the same as getting a cast off, I’d think?

As a rather random aside, did Horikoshi get his idea for Recovery Girl from Madam Pomfrey? Because there’re a lot of similarities, and I can’t say they’re the good kind.

Harry forced a laugh, watched Percy out of sight . . .

Is this missing a verb? Or can you use the “out of sight” without specifying that they’re moving?

Conjuring up portable, waterproof fires was a speciality of Hermione’s.

So they’re waterproof too? Oh well, at least someone gets to do some spells around here. Ha! And the books still aren’t about her.

“The sooner we get a confession out of Malfoy, the better,” snarled Ron. “D’you know what I think? He was in such a foul temper after the Quidditch match, he took it out on Colin.”

You know, these kids suck at the detective proportion of the story. And the fantasy proportion but that’s beside the point. They’re doing this “investigation” all backwards. They decided on the culprit before gathering any evidence, instead of gathering evidence to decide who’s the culprit.

To quote my favourite detective in the world: “If I had an imagination, I’d cut it off.” But well, my favourite detective in the world actually has a brain.

Of course, this could’ve been deliberate to show that they’re kids and kind of dumb buuuut I suspect Rowling just wanted to pad out the pages. Because if Rowling wanted to write a detective mystery urban fantasy then why couldn’t her characters doing the detectiving (and yes, I made that into a verb. English isn’t my mother language! I can do whatever I want with it!) be rudimentarily good at it?

As an aside, I feel that Rowling was more interested in writing detective mystery than fantasy, considering she went on to write detective mysteries under a pseudonym which didn’t sell until it was revealed they were from her, hence she keeps forgetting that her characters are supposed to be wizards. But the thing is, she seems to lack the self-awareness that she kind of really… isn’t… good at detective mystery.

In the first book, Harry, Ron and Hermione didn’t really do any actual detectiving. Instead, all of their progress was made through convoluted chains of coincidence and Hagrid being unable to keep his mouth shut.

Oh, and Dumbles arranged the whole thing because Dumbles is a child grooming creep.

In the second book, the Golden Trio is more busy finding out who didn’t dunnit than who dunnit it. Not to mention the only one who solved the mystery was Hermione — although I can’t remember how she actually solved it. I do faintly recall that at some point she went “eureka!” but this could’ve just as well have been Rowling realising that she’s running out of pages and literally gave her the solution without any buildup. Just like in the first book.

But we’ll get to the snake and the Chamber at more depth later.

Also, this isn’t to say that people can’t write something they aren’t very good at. But in that case, they need a liiiittle bit of self-awareness. Judging solely by Harry Potter, Rowling doesn’t seem to have any self-awareness as an author. And when she does seem to have a smidgen of self-awareness, she doesn’t seem to realise anything is wrong. It probably didn’t help that she got billions of people worshipping her as the greatest author ever when she was publishing these books.

You don’t know how many times I’ve seen people make the silly argument that “at least she got kids reading”. And it’s like, no, the kids who only got into reading through Harry Potter probably didn’t read anything else. Hell, they probably didn’t even read Harry Potter. Besides, I would rather have my kid reading nothing at all than have them reading Harry Potter before their brain is fully developed.

There is so much stuff wrong in these books, stuff that Rowling never acknowledged or addressed, that I wouldn’t want my kid to subconsciously pick up.

Such as — but not least! — that it’s okay to assault a terrified eleven-year-old if their dad happened to insult the authority figure of your choice. Or that Harry befriends every character who systematically and deliberately abuses him. Or that the only character he doesn’t forgive is the character he was a rude gitface to first.

Which actually makes all those fan fics where Harry deigns to forgive Draco pretty horrifying, ha ha. I can’t wait to write my version of it. Let’s say it starts with them going on a road trip. And it will involve at least Harry, Draco, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Pansy. And no, it won’t have a happy ending. Well, depending on one’s definition of a happy ending. Because my Draco won’t be a brainless doormat. Because I actually like him as he is. I don’t feel the need to neuter and lobotomise him so I can feel “morally unconflicted” about liking him.

“The Chamber of Secrets has been opened before?” said Hermione.

Why is it named the Chamber of Secrets anyway? Wasn’t there only one secret? Or were there more but our intrepid heroes never investigated? And you know, why didn’t they ever investigate? Regardless of its origins, isn’t the chamber an important historical and archeological site?

“Or maybe it can disguise itself — pretend to be a suit of armour or something. I’ve read about Chameleon Ghouls…”

Chameleon Ghouls! And all we got was an old boring snake. Rowling, don’t mention more interesting things in your narrative if you aren’t going to show them.

Wouldn’t it have been cool if the creature could disguise itself as anything? Think of the potential paranoia.

“You read too much, Hermione,” said Ron, pouring dead lacewings on top of the leeches.

And you don’t read at all. ♡

By the way, where did they get all these ingredients? Hermione did mention they could get them from the student store-cupboard, but did they go fetch them the very first thing in the morning?

Moreover, Hermione said this was the most complicated potion she’d ever seen but all they did was shred the ingredients and toss them into the cauldron. Maybe it’s just me but I don’t think hard-to-acquire ingredients is quite the same as a complicated potion.

In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve done more complicated potions in video games.

“So Dobby stopped us getting on the train and broke your arm…” He shook his head. “You know what, Harry? If he doesn’t stop trying to save your life he’s going to kill you.”

…..

……….

I need a break.

*several hours later, after suffering the company of a narcissistic dumbass arsehole and cleaning my entire flat*

Okay, let’s keep on.

Ginny Weasley, who sat next to Colin Creevey in Charms, was distraught, but Harry felt that Fred and George were going the wrong way about cheering her up. They were taking it in turns to cover themselves with fur or boils and jump out at her from behind statues. They only stopped when Percy, apoplectic with rage, told them he was going to write to Mrs Weasley and tell her Ginny was having nightmares.

Aw, Percy is such a good big brother. If I ever write that fic, I’ll give him all the good things in the world. ♡

Meanwhile, hidden from the teachers, a roaring trade in talismans, amulets and other protective devices was sweeping the school. Neville Longbottom bought a large, evil-smelling green onion, a pointed purple crystal and a rotting newt-tail . . .

Were these talismans and amulets real, functional things? Because I don’t think the characters ever used them in the actual plot. Not that they’ve been doing much at all with magic so far. Also, is the onion supposed to be protection from vampires? I can’t see why Neville, a pureblood wizard who ostensibly grew up with magic, would buy one otherwise.

“They went for Filch first,” Neville said, his round face fearful, “and everyone knows I’m almost a Squib.”

Actually, they went for Mrs Norris first but, eh, details. Oh, and the writing on the wall still didn’t say anything about Muggleborns or Squibs~. Learn to read. Stop conjecturing.

Harry smiled feebly. Deliberately causing mayhem in Snape’s potions class was about as safe as poking a sleeping dragon in the eye.

Okay, so this isn’t technically wrong or anything. But I think if the author makes, like, character specific comparisons then you’d have much richer characterisation. Does that make sense? Because how would Harry know what’s it like to poke a sleeping dragon in the eye, you know? Unless he harassed Norbert in the first book?

A rather dumb, off the top of my head example: Deliberately causing mayhem in Snape’s potions class was about as safe as talking to Uncle Vernon before eight o’clock.

Because that would tell us something about Harry and Uncle Vernon. You know? That’s what I mean. Or try to mean. I’m not sure how well I succeeded.

Snape prowled through the fumes, making waspish remarks about the Gryffindor’s work while the Slytherins sniggered appreciatively.

Considering that the Slytherins are pretty much despised by the entire school — and the Gryffindors are cheered on by the entire school — I think this is the only lesson where the non-Slytherin students are brought down a peg.

But of course, Severus is doing all this for the love of Saint Lily.

Harry ducked swiftly down behind his cauldron, pulled one of Fred’s Filibuster fireworks out of his pocket and gave it a quick prod with his wand. The firework began to fizz and sputter.

Should I count this as Harry’s very first spell? He didn’t do an incantation or a fancy wrist movement, he’s basically just using his wand as a lighter. Nah, I’ll count it when he uses actual w o r d s, with the deliberate intention of using a spell.

Knowing he had only seconds, Harry straightened up, took aim, and lobbed it into the air; it landed right on target in Goyle’s cauldron.

Goyle’s potion exploded, showering the whole class. . . . Malfoy got a faceful and his nose began to swell like a balloon . . .

Harry tried not to laugh as he watched Malfoy hurry forwards, his head drooping with the weight of a nose like a small melon.

You know, Harry, throwing puffer-fish eyes at you was the least Draco was entitled to for this. He’s honestly such an oblivious hypocrite.

Goyle’s potion exploded, showering the whole class.

As half the class lumbered up to Snape’s desk . . .

Everyone except Harry and the other half of the class, apparently.

. . . Snape swept over to Goyle’s cauldron and scooped out the twisted black remains of the firework. There was a sudden hush.

“If I ever find out who threw this,” Snape whispered, “I shall make sure that person is expelled.”

Ladies and gentlemen, our tenth mention of expulsion! and Harry still hasn’t been kicked out. I’m starting to feel the urge to write it myself.

Harry arranged his face into what he hoped was a puzzled expression. Snape was looking right at him, and the bell which rang ten minutes later could not have been more welcome.

Ha ha, was he staring at him the entire ten minutes?

Hermione threw the new ingredients into the cauldron and began to stir feverishly.

Yeah, sure, this is the most complicated potion I’ve seen.</monotone>

You know, I’m pretty sure fan fics wrote actually complicated potions.

A week later, Harry, Ron and Hermione were walking across the Entrance Hall when they saw a small knot of people gathered around the noticeboard, reading a piece of parchment that had just been pinned up.

A question: how would Harry know when this parchment was pinned up? I already know the narration isn’t exactly from Harry’s point of view but if anyone ever writes third person limited point of view it’d be good to keep things like this in mind.

. . . The long dining tables had vanished and a golden stage had appeared along one wall, lit by thousands of candles floating overhead.

I see Dumbles’ inner Midas has reared its ugly head again.

. . . Gilderoy Lockhart was walking onto the stage, resplendent in robes of deep plum and accompanied by none other than Snape, wearing his usual black.

Did you know there are some people with tetrachromacy? This means that they have a fourth cone cell inside their retina which allows them to see about 100 million colours. Most people have three cone cells inside their retina and they can see about 1 million colours.

I think it would’ve been cool if Harry’s weird focus on what colours Gilderoy’s wearing was an indication of this but I doubt it. I don’t really get why Rowling likes mentioning what Gilderoy’s wearing every time he enters the scene.

Also, Rowling is writing Gilderoy increasingly so dumb I just can’t buy the premise or the twist of his character. Here he is, again, in front of a huge audience, doing things he knows he can’t do. I just can’t buy he either made himself an international sensation through effort and marketing, or he stole other people’s accomplishments and then made himself an international sensation through effort and marketing. Though, I don’t really get why he would’ve needed to steal other people’s accomplishments, anyway. I mean, they’re both lies so why not just make them up? It’s not like anyone fact-checked them either way?

Furthermore, does he seriously have no clue who Severus is? The war was only eleven years ago. Severus was twenty-one then. I doubt they were prosecuting him as a minor — unless they didn’t prosecute him at all because of Dumbles. Gilderoy is only four years younger than Severus; he should’ve lived through the war as well. Hell, he was thirteen when Severus graduated.

So he’s seriously challenging an ex-Death Eater into a duel and apparently thinks he won’t completely embarrass himself in front of his audience?

It’s this and his character’s “twist” that just don’t really align together. Because all I get from this is: dude, why?

But as an aside, I bet Severus is enjoying every moment of this, ha ha. ♡

Snape’s upper lip was curling. Harry wondered why Lockhart was still smiling; if Snape had been looking at him like that he’d have been running as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

Oh, Harry. Don’t be silly. You don’t run. You freeze.

Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them.

“As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position,” Lockhart told the silent crowd.

Both of them swung their wands up and over their shoulders.

Okay, so I’m a total amateur on this topic because I’ve only read and watched a bit on this. But in fencing there are these things called “stances” and “guards”. They’re offensive and defensive postures from which the other movements — strikes and counter-strikes — flow.

If Wizard duelling is apparently similar to fencing, then why are they both starting in the same posture? It was established in the first book that Charms, at least, requires some fancy complicated wrist movements considering they did nothing but practise those fancy complicated wrist movements for two months.

So the next question is, why are they swinging their wands in the exact same way? Shouldn’t they both start in the posture that allows them to use the spell they want and which then flows into the next spell posture they want?

Would Wizard duelling be similar to fencing anyway since they’re blasting sparkly spells at each other and people usually don’t blast their swords at each other?

Snape cried: “Expelliarmus!” There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet . . .

“That was a Disarming Charm — as you see, I’ve lost my wand . . .”

So Severus was the very first character who used “Harry’s” trademark spell? Where did Harry learn it then?

Also, why the dazzling flash of scarlet light? This hasn’t been a thing before. Does every spell have a dazzling flash of light? Like say, Wingardium Leviosa? Or is it just offensive (or is this defensive?) Defence Against the Dark Arts spells? If it’s a Disarming Charm why did it blast Gilderoy off his feet instead of just disarming him? Did Severus put more oomph into his spell because he doesn’t like Gilderoy? Can you put more oomph into any spell? What would be the effects with other spells? Was it the spell that blasted Gilderoy off his feet or the scarlet light, or is the scarlet light the spell?

Furthermore, can you turn the light effects on and off? Because, what if you want to stay undetected for whatever reason? Like, if you’re doing Auroring (and yes, I made that into a verb too) or infiltrating somewhere?

You know, someone said that Harry Potter has a hard magic system. But he said this because Harry Potter happens in a school and he hasn’t actually read the books himself. So far, magic has been whatever Rowling needs or wants it to be in the moment. This doesn’t mean there mightn’t be underlying rules to it even if Rowling doesn’t exposition them but… I don’t have any trust in her as an author.

For example, kids have unpredictable wandless magic that seems to tie into their emotions. Then we learned about the wands and different wands seem to be suited to different types of magic but I don’t think this ever came up in the actual plot. Then there is the wordless magic where you just point or tap your wand at something. I think Rowling implied in the later books that wordless magic is difficult but I doubt it because Hagrid, the dropout and the dumbass, did it just fine. As well as Seamus and Harry when they were eleven and twelve respectively. Then there are the fancy complicated wrist movements and the butchered Latin incantations, for whatever reason. And I don’t know why these kids didn’t study actual Latin as a subject. And lastly, the wandless and wordless magic which is what Quirrell, for example, used in the first book. Oddly, it didn’t have light effects.

Rowling never gave us exposition on any of these, and I think she mostly uses it willy-nilly whatever strikes her fancy way.

Snape cried: “Expelliarmus!” There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet: he flew backwards off the stage, smashed into the wall and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

Malfoy and some of the other Slytherins cheered.

Ha ha, they’re adorable. They’re cheering on Severus. Aw, that’s so sweet. But of course, Severus never cared about his wee little Slytherin students and only cared about Saint Lily.

Malfoy strutted over, smirking.

He’s so cute. How on earth am I supposed to hate the silly little dumbass? ♡

Behind him walked a Slytherin girl who reminded Harry of a picture he’d seen in Holidays with Hags. She was large and square and her heavy jaw jutted aggressively.

Oh, I see Harry’s judgemental attitude shines through yet again.

Harry swung his wand over his shoulder, but Malfoy had already started on ‘two’: his spell hit Harry so hard he felt as though he’d been hit over the head with a saucepan. He stumbled, but everything still seemed to be working . . .

He’s such a Slytherin, ha ha.

Also, Draco knows wordless magic? I’m not sure if he cast the Expelliarmus because one) Rowling didn’t give us an actual line, two) there was no dazzling flash of scarlet light, and three) Harry’s wand didn’t go flying.

. . . Harry pointed his wand straight at Malfoy and shouted, “Rictusempra!“

A jet of silver light hit Malfoy in the stomach and he doubled up, wheezing.

Oh my god! Give our Boy Wonder a round of applause, it’s his first! spell! ever! …….and where’d he learn it?

Anyhow! So, spells do this now? And the light is the spell? Magic is light? …….why? When? How? What?

Gasping for breath, Malfoy pointed his wand at Harry’s knees, choked, “Tarantallegra!” and next second Harry’s legs had begun to jerk around out of his control in a kind of quickstep.

No sparkly light effects for this one?

Okay, wait a second. I need to confirm something.

So the first video games were apparently made the same year as the first film: 2001. That doesn’t explain these sudden sparkly light effects then.

I mean, I don’t mind them per se but a little exposition on why, how, what, and when would be nice.

“Finite Incantatem!” he shouted; Harry’s feet stopped dancing, Malfoy stopped laughing . . .

No fancy light effects for this one?

Okay, let’s assume that the sparkly lights only apply to Defence Against the Dark Arts spells: like, offensive and defensive spells.

…..why? Like, if you’re duelling or fighting with someone why would you broadcast your spell with dazzling flashes of Yule lights?

“I said disarm only!” Lockhart shouted in alarm over the heads of the battling crowd . . .

“Stop! Stop!” screamed Lockhart . . .

“Dear, dear,” said Lockhart, skittering through the crowd, looking at the aftermath of the duels. “Up you get, Macmillan… careful there, Miss Fawcett… pinch it hard, it’ll stop bleeding in a second, Boot…”

I don’t know, man. I mean, to me Gilderoy seems to be this useless doofus who makes a nuisance of himself but he still seems genuinely good-natured. And I still want to make him Harry’s annoying, overbearing manager who’s efficient at his job, ha ha.

Malfoy raised his wand quickly and bellowed, “Serpensortia!“

The end of his wand exploded. Harry watched, aghast, as a long black snake shot out of it, fell heavily onto the floor between them and raised itself, ready to strike.

I don’t know why some fan fic authors write Draco as bad at magic since he did this spell without instruction or practice. And the previous spell with no words. Also, no fancy lights for this one? Or the first one? Another also, did he summon a live snake from somewhere or did he create one out of thin air? Or out of his wand or whatever?

Moreover, I’m getting some serious Dragon Ball flashbacks from this duelling session. Because, you see, these characters are shouting these long silly words while the other person is basically just standing there like a dumbass and waits for them to finish.

In the Dragon Ball Z anime, the characters would pull off these loooong attacks while the character they’re fighting just stands there, staring in shock.

For example:

GOKU: KA–

VILLAIN OF THE SEASON: D:

GOKU: ME–

VILLAIN OF THE SEASON: D:

GOKU: HA–

VILLAIN OF THE SEASON: D:

GOKU: ME–

VILLAIN OF THE SEASON: D:

GOKU: HAAAA!

VILLAIN OF THE SEASON: D: *finally has the wherewithal to dodge or not*

I guess it’s just proper sportsmanship?

Harry wasn’t sure what made him do it. He wasn’t even aware of deciding to do it. All he knew was that his legs were carrying him forward as though he was on castors and that he had shouted stupidly at the snake, “Leave him!” And miraculously — inexplicably — the snake slumped to the floor, docile as a thick black garden hose, its eyes now on Harry. Harry felt the fear drain out of him. He knew the snake wouldn’t attack anyone now, though how he knew it, he couldn’t have explained.

This is so badly written but let’s start with the word “castors”. Fun fact: I’ve never seen this word before so I checked it in a dictionary. The first word I got for it was: “majavahattu” which means a hat made from the fur of the beaver. (Literally translated: beaver hat. Majava being beaver and hattu being hat.) The image of Harry wearing beaver hats on his feet was hilarious.

But I suspect Rowling meant this definition: “a pivoting roller attached to the bottom of furniture to allow it to be moved.” Which, okay. I think she could’ve used a more common word instead of beaver hats but all right then.

So, let’s get into why this paragraph is a bad mess. Well, first of: it could’ve been written infinitely better. Second of, here:

The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Harry’s.

It winked.

Harry stared. Then he looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching. They weren’t. He looked back at the snake and winked, too.

The snake jerked its head towards Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Harry a look that said quite plainly: “I get that all the time.”

“I know,” Harry murmured through the glass, though he wasn’t sure the snake could hear him. “It must be really annoying.”

The snake nodded vigorously.

“Where do you come from, anyway?” Harry asked.

The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Harry peered at it.

Boa Constrictor, Brazil.

“Was it nice there?”

The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Harry read on: This specimen was bred in the zoo. “Oh, I see — so you’ve never been to Brazil?”

As the snake slid swiftly past him, Harry could have sworn a low, hissing voice said, “Brazil, here I come… Thanksss, amigo.”

The first book never explained how the boa knew Harry was a Parselmouth since it was the snake who initiated the contact instead of Harry inadvertently saying something in Parseltongue. But regardless! Harry knows he can talk to snakes. Harry has talked to a snake before. Why would Harry think: he had shouted stupidly at the snake, as if he’s never done it before?

Third of, Harry is a Parselmouth. Meaning he can talk to and understand snake hissing. I wasn’t aware Parselmouths can control snakes with Parseltongue, too. If Parselmouths can control snakes just with the language, then why didn’t Harry try it on the basilisk? Or did he? I can’t remember that far. I doubt it, though.

Instead of this: And miraculously — inexplicably — the snake slumped to the floor, docile as a thick black garden hose, its eyes now on Harry, why couldn’t the snake have been surprised, forget its attack on Justin, and turn to Harry and ask “what’s up with the snake language, biped?”

Fourth of, this: He knew the snake wouldn’t attack anyone now, though how he knew it, he couldn’t have explained, just isn’t good writing, plain and simple. Harry did this with the flying, too. If your character is just miraculously going to “know” something, for no reason or basis at all, then at least don’t bring it up in the narrative. Hand-waving is lazy and annoying. Either write it again or don’t write it at all.

So, here’s just one example how this could’ve been written instead:

Heart pounding with sudden adrenaline, Harry rushed instinctively forward. He didn’t know if it’d work, if the snake would listen to him, but he still shouted: “Leave him!” And miraculously it did, turning towards Harry instead. It swayed indecisively for a moment, its tongue flicking at the air, and then inquired, “You know our language?”

Because it feels like Rowling remembered Harry is a Parselmouth but she simply forgot he’s done it before.

Of course, if Rowling had been really clever, she could’ve used this opportunity to foreshadow Ginny’s involvement in the plot — such as it were. Since Ginny is a Parselmouth while she’s being possessed by Tommy. For example, someone could’ve yelled that Harry urged the snake to attack Justin and then Ginny could’ve snapped no, he didn’t! Because she would’ve understood what Harry said, but the reader could’ve assumed she said this just because of her crush on him.

Well, there’s still the question if the snake is an actual snake or if it’s magic in the shape of a snake, and would Parseltongue work on magic in the shape of a snake.

Also, by the way, why snakes? Why aren’t there other animals wizards can talk to? Hell, where are all the Leon-tongues and Corvus-tongues and Meles-tongues? (You know, since Latin seems to be the theme in spells at least. Which brings up the question, why aren’t all proper nouns in Latin?)

“A Parselmouth!” said Ron. “You can talk to snakes!”

“I know,” said Harry. “I mean, that’s only the second time I’ve ever done it.”

Ooooh, so Harry did remember he’s talked to snakes before? Fancy that. I guess the above paragraph was, indeed, just a badly written mess.

Also, if Harry can talk to snakes why couldn’t he have talked to garden snakes or something? But that would actually require him to be interested in something besides himself.

I know, I know, I’m being mean again.

“I spoke a different language? But — I didn’t realise — how can I speak a language without knowing I can speak it?”

Ha ha ha ha… Ooooh Harry. Just like you do everything!

Harry knew, somehow, what to do. He leant forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands and it shot towards Malfoy like a javelin.

He knew the snake wouldn’t attack anyone now, though how he knew it, he couldn’t have explained.

You just know. It’s magic.

By the way, is this related to christianity as well? Because I’m not impressed. No wonder these books are like the bible of the 21st century. *sighs*

Both he and Hermione were looking as though someone had died. Harry couldn’t see what was so terrible.

“It matters,” said Hermione, speaking at last in a hushed voice, “because being able to talk to snakes was what Salazar Slytherin was famous for. That’s why the symbol of Slytherin house is a serpent.”

“Exactly,” said Ron. “And now the whole school’s going to think you’re his great-great-great-great-grandson or something…”

“But I’m not,” said Harry, with a panic he couldn’t quite explain.

“You’ll find that hard to prove,” said Hermione. “He lived about a thousand years ago; for all we know, you could be.”

Let’s talk about themes for a moment, shall we? Because the themes in these books are schizophrenic. One of the themes is that purebloods are terrible, horrible, bigoted people for wanting to preserve their blood (and thus, you know, their kin). And supposedly because they’re judging other people on theirs except we haven’t seen this so far. Since purebloods and Slytherins are our antagonists, you would assume that: judging others by blood is thus bad. Yes?

And then Rowling, in true Rowling fashion, has her darling pets do it as well. Constantly. More than the purebloods. Before the purebloods.

What I remember off the top of my head:

“A wizard, o’ course,” said Hagrid . . . “an’ a thumpin’ good’un, I’d say, once yeh’ve been trained up a bit. With a mum an’ dad like yours, what else would yeh be?”

“Yer not from a Muggle family.”

“Rotten ter the core, the whole family, everyone knows that. No Malfoy’s worth listenin’ ter. Bad blood, that’s what it is.”

And now we have Harry, Ron and Hermione acting like someone died because Harry might possibly, potentially, be the extremely distant relative of someone who lived a thousand years ago.

SO WHICH IS IT? Does blood matter or does it not?

Of course, Rowling could’ve gone with the nuanced view that just because purebloods are supposedly bad — even though she hasn’t bothered to show us how they’re bad — her protagonists aren’t any better. But well, what’s nuance? In Harry Potter no less.

He didn’t know anything about his father’s family, after all. The Dursleys had always forbidden questions about his wizarding relatives.

Ask other people. You’re in the Wizarding world. Hagrid gave you a whole book of your parents’ pictures which he got from their mythical friends.

Stop. Being. A. Moron.

Quietly, Harry tried to say something in Parseltongue. The words wouldn’t come. It seemed he had to be face to face with a snake to do it.

Um, how would you know if you’re speaking Parseltongue when you don’t even know when you are speaking Parseltongue?

Stop. Being. A. Moron.

“But I’m in Gryffindor,” Harry thought. “The Sorting Hat wouldn’t have put me in here if I had Slytherin blood…”

What’s that got to do with anything?

Slytherin is a school house. It’s not genetics.

Stop. Being. A. Moron.

“Ah,” said a nasty little voice in his brain, “But the Sorting Hat wanted to put you in Slytherin, don’t you remember?”

It also wanted to put you in Ravenclaw and Gryffindor because you’re so special you could fit in any house — except Hufflepuff but no one cares about them.

“Hmm,” said a small voice in his ear. “Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. There’s talent, oh my goodness, yes — and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that’s interesting… So where shall I put you?”

Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, “Not Slytherin, not Slytherin.”

“Not Slytherin, eh?” said the small voice. “Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it’s all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that — no? Well, if you’re sure — better be GRYFFINDOR!”

Oh my god it didn’t even want to put Harry in Slytherin. Harry’s the moron who brought Slytherin up.

And see, Harry, all the Sorting Hat did was prop up what a Everyday Hero of Specialness you are. Just like in every good story! (And yes, I’m being sarcastic. And no, the issue isn’t that an author wants to write a super special hero; the issue is that the authors also feel the need to lie about it and they’re usually incapable of writing an actually special hero and instead end up writing absolute morons.)

Besides, let’s talk about the themes some more. So the epilogue happened and Rowling went all blah blah blah your school house don’t matter, Harry 2.0. And if you’re so worried about it anyway just ask the Hat to put you somewhere else! Wouldn’t this have been a terrific way to show it? By putting Harry in Slytherin and, hell, toss even him being the heir of Slytherin in there. And then have him turn out, like, I don’t even know, non-evil?

But of course we couldn’t have that.

And you know what would’ve been cool? If Harry’d been hearing this voice in his head for as long as he can remember so he doesn’t think much about it — never mind that he isn’t exactly bright — but it turns out to be Tommy?

By next morning, however, the snow that had begun in the night had turned into a blizzard so thick that the last Herbology lesson of term was cancelled: Professor Sprout wanted to fit socks and scarves on the Mandrakes, a tricky operation she would entrust to no one else, now that it was so important for the Mandrakes to grow quickly and revive Mrs Norris and Colin Creevey.

They’re plants. In soil. In pots. In greenhouses. Don’t put them outside or next to a draught and they’ll stay warm. Plants don’t generally like being moved all the time. It’s not like they pop up out of their soil and take a walk in nature either.

Besides, why aren’t these people getting their Mandrakes from somewhere else? Like, ask St Mungo’s Hospital? Or a shop? But instead, they’re letting these characters stay petrified because of — I don’t know — school pride?

. . . and he paused to listen, hidden in the Invisibility section.

Invisibility section?

“Hannah,” said the stout boy solemnly, “he’s a Parselmouth. Everyone knows that’s the mark of a dark wizard. Have you ever heard of a decent one who could talk to snakes? They called Slytherin himself Serpent-tongue.”

Oh, they know that, do they? And how do they know that? …..is this from christianity as well; this prejudice against snakes and talking to snakes? Because I’m not impressed.

Well, not that indigenous European religions didn’t have their own prejudices against snakes. But that’s because snakes have the power to eat the sun.

. . . Ernie went on, “Remember what was written on the wall?“

I do. No one else does, though.

“Enemies of the Heir Beware. Potter had some sort of run-in with Filch. Next thing we know, Filch’s cat’s attacked. That first-year, Creevey, was annoying Potter at the Quidditch match, taking pictures of him while he was lying in the mud. Next thing we know, Creevey’s been attacked.”

Oh my gooood, ha ha ha ha. Oh, please, please tell me that it wasn’t even a Mudblood who did this all! And the Mudblood and Squib stuff was always a red herring! It was Ginny all along, acting out her stalker fangirlism and using Tommy to achieve that. She’s Dobby.

Ginny Weasley Was the REAL Dark Wizard Extraordinaire All Along~. Oh, that’s good. That’s brilliant.

And of course it didn’t happen.

Unless Tommy was lying to save face?

“He always seems so nice, though,” said Hannah uncertainly . . .

He does? I don’t think Harry’s ever even talked to you. Hell, he doesn’t even remember your name. He didn’t know Ernie’s name, either, or any of the Hufflepuffs’ even though they’ve been in the same Herbology lessons for two years, ha ha.

“No one knows how he survived that attack by You Know Who. I mean to say, he was only a baby when it happened. He should have been blasted into smithereens. Only a really powerful Dark Wizard could have survived a curse like that.”

You know, these characters sure have a weird hard-on for Dark Wizards. They’re always going Dark Wizard that, Dark Wizard this. They’re like superstitious people who blame everything anomalous and unexplained on witchcraft. Which is ironic.

Also, a reminder:

“Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That’s what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh — took care of yer mum an’ dad an’ yer house, even — but it didn’t work on you, an’ that’s why yer famous, Harry. No one ever lived after he decided ter kill ’em, no one except you, an’ he’d killed some o’ the best witches an’ wizards of the age . . .”

One) This pretty much says Harry’s scar isn’t unique and there’ve been other Wizards or non-Wizards who’ve had a lightning scar. These dumbasses should’ve been able to come up with some theories. But they didn’t. Because they’re morons.

Two) The reason why Harry is famous isn’t the scar but because Tommy — with his terrible on-screen track record of killing people — couldn’t murder the brat. So Harry’s famous for something his mom did and for Tommy being a blundering moron.

But yeah, it’s totally Gilderoy who’s the fake celebrity. Hey, all I’m saying, even if he did steal other people’s accomplishments he still worked for it.

A group of the Hufflepuffs who should have been in Herbology were indeed sitting at the back of the library, but they didn’t seem to be working.

Ernie lowered his voice mysteriously, the Hufflepuffs bent closer . . .

. . . every one of the Hufflepuffs looked as though they had been Petrified by the sight of him . . .

The Hufflepuffs’ worst fears had clearly been confirmed.

Ha ha ha, oh my god, Harry, how do you not know these characters’ names? You’ve been going to the same lesson with them for half a year if not a year and a half!

“Hello,” said Harry. “I’m looking for Justin Finch-Fletchley.”

Oh come on, Harry. Ernie just said he told Justin to hide in the Hufflepuff dormitory. You could’ve just gone directly to see him. It might’ve worked better than confronting these dumbasses while you’re angry.

Justin Finch-Fletchley was lying on the floor, rigid and cold, a look of shock frozen on his face, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.

Okay, this is just unbelievable. I don’t buy at all that the snake wouldn’t have eaten this kid.

He could run, and no one would ever know he had been there. But he couldn’t just leave them lying here… he had to get help. Would anyone believe he hadn’t had anything to do with this?

I know; run away and send an anonymous tip. Or better yet; run away and wait for the classes to end. I doubt they’ll last long anyway.

Peeves stopped, halfway through a mid-air somersault. Upside-down, he spotted Justin and Nearly Headless Nick. He flipped the right way up, filled his lungs . . .

Rowliiiing. Ghosts still don’t have lungs or the need to breathe. Don’t write ghosts if you aren’t going to write them as ghosts.

No sooner had the scene cleared somewhat than Ernie the Hufflepuff arrived, panting, on the scene.

“Caught in the act!” Ernie yelled, his face stark white, pointing his finger dramatically at Harry.

He’s funny.

Justin was carried up to the hospital wing by Professor Flitwick and Professor Sinistra of the Astronomy department . . .

How about that spell? You know, Wingardium Leviosa? The first spell the characters learned in these books?

. . . In the end, Professor McGonagall conjured a large fan out of thin air, which she gave to Ernie with instructions to waft Nearly Headless Nick up the stairs. This Ernie did, fanning Nick along like a silent black hovercraft.

Shouldn’t air also just go through ghosts? Unless the petrification somehow solidified him but if that’s the case why couldn’t they just Wingardium Leviosa him? Or carry him, if they like manual labour so much?

Behind the wall was a spiral staircase which was moving smoothly upwards, like an escalator.

Why’d Arthur then ask how escalators work?

Harry’s spell count so far: a whopping one!

“Harry — you’re a great wizard, you know.”

I really wouldn’t go that far.

Chapter Ten – The Rogue Bludger

I think I have to clarify something. I know I wrote in the previous chapter that there seems to be some weird incestuous subtext going on between Ron and Ginny. But don’t worry, I don’t think Ron actually has a crush on his little sister or whatever. Mostly because I’m neither stupid nor delusional.

I just thought his hissy fit over the implication that he doesn’t care about Ginny was a little weird. I have lots of siblings — and a whole bunch of nephews and nieces — and I can say with absolute honesty and certainty that none of us has ever done that. But just because I personally thought it was a little weird doesn’t mean it’s incestuous subtext.

…..I still might totally make fun of it, though!

. . . so far, Harry had been forced to play a simple Transylvanian villager whom Lockhart had cured of a Babbling Curse, a yeti with a headcold, and a vampire who had been unable to eat anything except lettuce since Lockhart had dealt with him.

Wait for it:

Harry was hauled to the front of the class during their very next Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, this time acting a werewolf. If he hadn’t had a very good reason for keeping Lockhart in a good mood, he would have refused to do it.

Like you refused the abovementioned roles?

“Nice loud howl, Harry — exactly — and then, if you’ll believe it, I pounced — like this — slammed him to the floor — thus — with one hand, I managed to hold him down — with my other, I put my wand to his throat — I then screwed up my remaining strength and peformed the immensely complex Homorphus Charm — he let out a piteous moan — go on, Harry — higher than that — good — the fur vanished — the fangs shrank — and he turned back into a man. Simple, yet effective — and another village will remember me forever as the hero who delivered them from the monthly terror of werewolf attacks.”

It’s such a pity we didn’t see any of this in the film. I would’ve loved to see Harry howling his heart out. Ha ha, and I bet Draco would’ve loved to see that too. It would’ve made his entire year. ♡

But regardless, is the Homorphus Charm a real spell? Because why didn’t anyone use it in the third book when Lupin changed into a werewolf?

Also, I find it curious that Gilderoy’s fake life sounds more active than the stories we actually got. Which just goes to show that Harry is a terrible protagonist.

She approached Lockhart’s desk, a piece of paper clutched tightly in her hand . . .

“Er — Professor Lockhart?” Hermione stammered. “I wanted to — to get this book out of the library. Just for background reading.” She held out the piece of paper, her hand shaking slightly. “But the thing is, it’s in the Restricted Section of the library, so I need a teacher to sign for it — I’m sure it would help me understand what you say in Gadding with Ghouls about slow-acting venoms…”

You know what else they could’ve done if using Harry’s Invisibility Cloak was too complex? Just ask for Gilderoy’s autograph. He’s vain enough to give it away without thought, and then they could’ve transferred the autograph to the paper they wanted signed. Or they could’ve won this:

“Homework: compose a poem about my defeat of the Wagga Wagga werewolf! Signed copies of Magical Me to the author of the best one!”

and gotten the signature that way.

As an aside, I had this thought. You know how in the later books Ron is jealous over Harry and Hermione’s friendship, bond, whatever? I realised he does have a basis for that jealousy: Gilderoy. Hermione is obviously crushing on him and she’s probably crushing on him because of the celebrity and the dashing heroics he didn’t actually do. Why wouldn’t Ron think that’s what Hermione is looking for in a man and who is — sort of — filling those requirements? Harry.

But that’s just my headcanon.

“So, Harry,” said Lockhart . . . “tomorrow’s the first Quidditch match of the season, I believe? Gryffindor against Slytherin, is it not? . . .”

Is the first match of the season always Gryffindor against Slytherin? And since we already passed Hallowe’en — that is, 31 October — then this would mean the Quidditch season starts in November?

“I was a Seeker, too. I was asked to try for the National Squad, but preferred to dedicate my life to the eradication of the Dark Forces. Still, if you ever feel the need for a little private training, don’t hesitate to ask. Always happy to pass on my expertise to less able players…”

What if Harry had said yes? I would’ve probably said yes just to see what Gilderoy would do.

“That’s because he’s a brainless git,” said Ron.

Brainless gits don’t generally become international sensations without getting caught.

…come to think of it, I suddenly have this faint recollection that Gilderoy actually stole other people’s accomplishments and Obliviated them? Well, if I recall that right then brainless gits usually don’t manage to do that either without getting caught.

How did he do that without getting caught?

Five minutes later, they were barricaded in Moaning Myrtle’s out-of-order bathroom once again. . . . Moaning Myrtle was crying noisily in her cubicle, but they were ignoring her, and she them.

I had this thought earlier, but why don’t the Wizards use ghosts for espionage? The first book implied they can turn invisible:

“Peeves,” he said, in a hoarse whisper, “the Bloody Baron has his own reasons for being invisible.”

because Peeves didn’t find this dubious or false.

“Excuse me?” said Ron sharply. “What d’you mean, a bit of whoever we’re changing into? I’m drinking nothing with Crabbe’s toenails in it…”

But the lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed and knotgrass don’t faze you at all? And funny that Ron’s mind immediately went to Vincent instead of Gregory or Draco.

Also, you know what I would’ve done? To make this potion truly dark, I would’ve added a part of a Metamorphmagus as a required ingredient. After all, they’re rather like human Polyjuice Potions, aren’t they? Oh, and I would’ve added some actual consequences to drinking this potion to justify why it’s in the Restricted Section. I mean, there should be some consequences about morphing into another person by imbibing their dna.

But of course, Rowling didn’t come up with the Metamorphmagi until… the fifth book? Meh.

By the way, d’you think Horikoshi got the idea how to pass on One for All from this?

“I don’t want to break rules, you know. I think threatening Muggle-borns is far worse than brewing up a difficult potion. . . .”

Um:

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.
ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

It says nothing about Muggleborns. And who even names their secret chamber the Chamber of Secrets? Or why would you hide a giant snake beneath the girls’ toilet, anyway? Sally would’ve gotten away with less trouble if he’d just established his own school instead of leaving his pets behind on the off-chance that someone speaking Parseltongue and a chip on their shoulder would come to Hogwarts. Which took a thousand years to happen.

Not exactly the best or the most efficient plan in the world. Never mind that it didn’t actually get rid of the Muggleborns or Squibs if that’s what he was after.

“Well, as the fluxweed has got to be picked at the full moon and the lacewings have got to be stewed for twenty-one days… I’d say it’d be ready in about a month, if we can get all the ingredients.”

Oh, great. We continue the fine tradition of passive main characters. You do realise that this means these characters won’t be doing anything for a month, right? Such as, advancing the plot. Never mind that they’re doing this on conjecture and prejudice, and they ended up wasting their time.

If the characters are wasting their time, then they’re also wasting the reader’s time.

. . . Ron muttered to Harry, “It’ll be a lot less hassle if you can just knock Malfoy off his broom tomorrow.”

“Give it here,” Harry called, “or I’ll knock you off that broom!”

A callback. How quaint. Also, Draco totally deserves to face either injury or death for — being Draco Malfoy, I guess. It’s because he’s blonde, isn’t it?

Harry woke early on Saturday morning and lay for a while thinking about the coming Quidditch match. He was nervous, mainly at the thought of what Wood would say if Gryffindor lost, but also at the idea of facing a team mounted on the fastest racing brooms gold could buy.

A kindly reminder:

But even Quidditch had lost its fun. The rest of the team wouldn’t speak to Harry during practice, and if they had to speak about him, they called him ‘the Seeker’.

I really don’t see why he cares. Well, I guess Wood was speaking to him but he still didn’t do anything to stop the others from ostracising Harry.

Besides, as if Rowling could ever let her darling pets lose at something.

He had never wanted to beat Slytherin so badly.

You mean more than last year? Or in the next year? Or in the fifth year?

…..does Harry ever actually grow as a character? I did say he feels more like a real character in this book, but considering he felt more like a puppet trying really hard to pass off as a human in the first book, I’m not sure if this is an improvement.

“Slytherin have better brooms than us,” he began, “no point denying it. But we’ve got better people on our brooms. We’ve trained harder than they have, we’ve been flying in all weathers–” . . . “–and we’re going to make them rue the day they let that little bit of slime, Malfoy, buy his way onto their team.”

Draco didn’t buy his way onto the team. Lucius might’ve. Besides:

. . . but Malfoy had leapt on to his broomstick and taken off. He hadn’t been lying, he could fly well — hovering lever with the topmost branches of an oak he called, “Come and get it, Potter!”

Harry shifted guiltily in his seat. He had been unconscious in the hospital wing for the final match of the previous year, meaning that Gryffindor had been a player short and had suffered their worst defeat in three hundred years.

It shouldn’t matter if Lucius gifted the brooms or not because Draco knows how to fly — Rowling wrote it herself and Harry admitted it, and they both hate the kid’s guts for reasons unknown. Probably because he’s blonde. Moreover, the best team eveeeer with the best people eveeeer don’t suffer their worst defeat in three hundred years just because they’re down one player.

This is supposed to be a team sport. It’s not. I really don’t understand why they didn’t call this the Seeker’s Game instead of Quidditch.

Oh, and the Slytherins never turned on nor removed Draco from the team even though he consecutively lost to the Boy Wonder. Unlike the Boy Wonder’s wondrous teammates of wonder who ostracised him over house points:

But even Quidditch had lost its fun. The rest of the team wouldn’t speak to Harry during practice, and if they had to speak about him, they called him ‘the Seeker’.

For weeks.

Hey Rowling, here’s free advice, you may make of it what you will: the events in the previous book don’t just magically vanish into ether because you start another book.

You know, I just really really don’t like these books. Even if I have started to find them hilarious in ways Rowling probably didn’t intend.

As an aside, I actually wrote a headcanon about how Draco got onto the Quidditch team. Lucius gifted the brooms because — I don’t know, reasons? He’s a doting dad? He doesn’t think Draco would make it otherwise? Draco most likely didn’t ask for the brooms because he wasn’t all that interested when Lucius said he’d buy a racing broom for him. He was more into the withered hand.

Anyhow, Lucius gifted the brooms and obviously Marcus is going to accept them because he doesn’t want to embarrass a respected alumnus. But he still made Draco try out for the team because there’s no way he’d replace Terence who consecutively won against Charlie Weasley and Charlie Weasley was good enough to play for England. He’s a Slytherin — they’ll take bribes if someone’s dumb enough to offer them and then they’ll do their own thing anyway.

Or perhaps in Slytherin
You’ll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends.

The real friends was true right up until the last book, if I recall correctly. But the rest of it? Not so much. Or at least Rowling really failed to show them that way. Most of the Slytherins ended being sycophantic, pathetic, cowardly and moronic followers instead of cunning folk doing what they wilt. And I suspect even the true friends bit was unintentional on Rowling’s part.

As they walked out onto the pitch, a roar of noise greeted them; mainly cheers, because Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were anxious to see Slytherin beaten, but the Slytherins in the crowd made their boos and hisses heard too.

Oh yeah, the Gryffindors are totally the underdogs in these books.

Out of genuine curiosity — and this is a question to people who like these books — how do you stand the author blatantly lying to you? It’s not even intentional, like an unreliable narrative that later reveals the truth. It’s just outright lies.

Harry had no time to reply. At that very moment, a heavy black Bludger came pelting towards him; he avoided it so narrowly that he felt it ruffle his hair as it passed.

. . . but the Bludger changed direction in mid-air and shot straight for Harry again.

. . . Once again, the Bludger swerved like a boomerang and shot at Harry’s head.

. . . What was going on? Bludgers never concentrated on one player like this, it was their job to try and unseat as many people as possible…

Wait, wait, wait.

Did Rowling trick everyone into reading the same book again? See, it’s these kinds of things that are absolutely hilarious.

And just like in the first book, no one does anything. Such as stopping the match and taking the evidently malfunctioning Bludger out.

It had started to rain; Harry felt heavy drops fall onto his face, splattering onto his glasses.

Aaaand this is the exact moment Harry stops seeking. Because — as a person who has worn glasses half her life — I can say that glasses and rain? Don’t go well together. It’s not just the rain that’s going to obscure your vision. If it’s cold — which it probably is because this is taking place in November — then your glasses will also fog up. Try seeing anything then.

. . . “Slytherin lead, sixty points to zero.”

“What’s going on?” said Wood, as the Gryffindor team huddled together, while Slytherins in the crowd jeered. “We’re being flattened. . . .”

Oh? I thought you were going to win with the sheer power of your nonexistent moral righteousness?

I told you they weren’t as good as all that.

“Listen,” said Harry . . . “with you two flying round me all the time the only way I’m going to catch the Snitch is if it flies up my sleeve. Go back to the rest of the team and let me deal with the rogue one.”

What?

“If we stop now, we’ll have to forfeit the match!” said Harry. “And we’re not losing to Slytherin just because of a mad Bludger! Come on, Oliver, tell them to leave me alone!”

What?

What?

How is changing a faulty Bludger out forfeiting the match? Because in Kuroko’s Basketball, the matches weren’t forfeited when Kagami broke the hoop and Murasakibara broke the whole backboard.

And yeah, Kuroko’s Basketball isn’t exactly a realistic documentary portrayal of basketball — I mean, I call it the Supernatural Basketball with my sister for gods’ sake — but I’m pretty sure them changing the faulty equipment was more realistic than this garbage.

Not to mention Harry shouldn’t be able to see a thing with his GLASSES in the HEAVY RAIN. This is honestly so dumb and unbelievable I actually feel a little sick reading it.

Never mind this is just a rehash of the first match in the first book.

Also, can a case be made for Harry suffering from Stockholm Syndrome? Because he’s weirdly determined to risk his life for people who just a few months ago ostracised him for weeks over house points. That — really can’t be healthy. At all.

“Oliver, this is mad,” said Alicia Spinnet angrily. “You can’t let Harry deal with that thing on his own. Let’s ask for an inquiry–“

But hey, at least Alicia got a second line. Good for her.

. . . Harry kicked hard into the air and heard the tell-tale whoosh of the Bludger behind him. Higher and higher Harry climbed.

What is this, a horror film?

Besides, Harry hates Draco for something he started (it was Harry who was a rude gitface first and Draco only responded to that), but he forgives Dobby who one) stole and blackmailed Harry with his own letters, two) got Harry barred and locked up and starved in his room, and three) is now trying his best to murder the Boy Wonder. For his own good. Or something.

That’s totally cool, but Draco responding to — not initiating — Harry’s rude behaviour is totally not cool?

You know what’s the saddest part about this whole thing? Even people who ostensibly like Draco don’t acknowledge any of this. In fact, even they place all the blame on him.

Well, they tend to lobotomise his character anyway so I don’t know how much they actually like him.

. . . Rain was speckling his glasses . . .

Hey, here’s an idea: how about we don’t have people who don’t need glasses in everyday life write characters with glasses?

Heavy rain does not “speckle” glasses. It pours down on them. They fog up. I’m not going to say you don’t see anything with them but I am saying it’s really hard.

This whole fake glasses thing is really driving me up the walls. Should I remove Harry’s glasses in that fic? Obviously he doesn’t actually need them or wear them.

Through a haze of rain and pain he dived for the shimmering, sneering face below him and saw its eyes widen with fear: Malfoy thought Harry was attacking him.

<monotone>Oh, what a wuss. Like it wouldn’t be the first time.</monotone>

Harry and Ron jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy. . .

“Give it here,” Harry called, “or I’ll knock you off that broom!”

Harry knew, somehow, what to do. He leant forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands and it shot towards Malfoy like a javelin.

“I’m not going in that Forest,” he said, and Harry was pleased to hear the note of panic in his voice.

I guess it’s a good thing I don’t have physical copies of these books, otherwise I’d be shredding them to pieces. Physically, I mean.

And you know what? Rowling could’ve just summarised the Quidditch matches like this: Harry is so good he doesn’t need no team in this team sport, Harry is so cool he catches the Snitch while almost dying, and the whole crowd cheers and offers Harry sexual favours for life. Or at the very least until he loses some house points.

Because then I wouldn’t have to read three pages of a one-sided Quidditch match that only exists to prop up how cooool the Boy Wonder is and makes everyone else a brainless bleeding moron. Besides, considering Harry will win every match and none of the other players matters at all, they might just as well hand the Snitch to him directly.

…..maybe I should get physical copies just so I can shred them to pieces? I feel like it would be rather therapeutic?

“Stand back,” said Lockhart, who was rolling up his jade-green sleeves.

Good thing Harry still has the wherewithal to notice what colour Gilderoy’s robes are.

As Harry got to his feet, he felt strangely lopsided. Taking a deep breath he looked down at his right side. What he saw nearly made him pass out again.

Think positively, Harry. At least he didn’t remove every bone in your body. Imagine his insides swimming in his sack of skin and muscle tissue.

. . . “I’ve just seen Marcus Flint yelling at Malfoy. Something about the Snitch on top of his head and not noticing. Malfoy didn’t seem too happy.”

Aw, poor Draco. *pets his blonde head*

. . . when Madam Pomfrey came storming over, shouting, “This boy needs rest, he’s got thirty-three bones to regrow! . . .”

A rudimentary google search reveals that the human arm has thirty bones. But you may take that with a grain of salt.

Hours and hours later, Harry woke quite suddenly in the pitch blackness and gave a small yelp of pain: his arm now felt full of large splinters. For a second, he thought it was that which had woken him. Then, with a thrill of horror, he realised that someone was sponging his forehead in the dark.

“Get off!” he said loudly, and then, “Dobby!“

The house-elf’s goggling tennis-ball eyes were peering at Harry through the darkness. A single tear was running down his long, pointed noise.

Holy fuck.

I thought, naïvely, that Rowling couldn’t possibly get any creepier with the abusive subtext but apparently I was wrong.

This is right after Dobby tried to grievously injure Harry with the Bludger — which might’ve accidentally killed him. And now he’s dabbing at Harry’s forehead in the dark like an abusive creep that he is. The general cycle of abuse: one) the abuse happens, two) then the abuser pretends to be contrite and makes up every sort of excuse and usually blames the abused for it, three) happy times, and four) repeat step one.

And Harry actually pities and sort of befriends this fool.

Harry Potter isn’t fantasy, urban or otherwise. It’s not a cute little adventure story about a boy in a school of witchcraft, without a whole lot of the school or the witchcraft. It’s a fucking horror about an abused boy who is so used to and desensitised to the abuse he doesn’t realise every person he considers his friend is as abusive as his relatives.

Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors all ostracised him for weeks over house points, and didn’t come around until Harry almost got himself killed.

Dumbles is grooming him to face off against the Dark Wizard Extraordinaire and die.

Dobby is doing whatever the hell he wants “for Harry’s own good” — which is what a lot of abusers say — such as stealing his letters, blackmailing him with them, getting him imprisoned and starved for days, stopping him from going to Hogwarts, assaulting and nearly killing him with a fucking iron ball.

But anyway. *adds Dobby to the list of murderable characters*

“Dobby hid and watched for Harry Potter and sealed the gateway and Dobby had to iron his hands afterwards–“

“Dobby was so shocked when he heard Harry Potter was back at Hogwarts, he let his master’s dinner burn! Such a flogging Dobby never had, sir…”

“Dobby is used to death threats, sir. Dobby gets them five times a day at home.”

“‘Tis a mark of the house-elf’s enslavement, sir. Dobby can only be freed if his masters present him with clothes, sir. The family is careful not to pass Dobby even a sock, sir, for then he would be free to leave their house for ever.”

You know, Rowling, I honestly don’t give a single fucking fuck about this pity fest by this point. You pretty much dessicated whatever sympathy I might’ve had by making Dobby an abusive creep, and now all I want is to see him walk off the same cliff as Dumbles and Hagrid. Funny how that works, eh?

“If he knew what he means to us, to the lowly, the enslaved, us dregs of the magical world!”

So, Harry’s Jesus? You remember how that went? The lowly, enslaved dregs cheered and rather freed a thief than him while he was nailed to a cross.

Not that Jesus existed, but you know, I’m not the one pulling things from that story. And unlike Jesus, Harry has to do even less than him to be considered special. Hell, he doesn’t even have to do any magic.

“Dobby remembers how it was when He Who Must Not Be Named was at the height of his powers, sir! We house-elves were treated like vermin, sir! Of course, Dobby is still treated like that, sir,” he admitted . . .

If Dobby is representative of house-elves, is it any wonder they’re treated like vermin?

You know the Golden Rule? “Treat others how you want to be treated”? This is a complete lie. You treat others the way their behaviour indicates they should be treated.

Also, why couldn’t any of these dumbasses call him Tommy? It would be so much more easier to type than the silly “He Who Must Not Be Named” nonsense.

“But I’m not Muggle-born — how can I be in danger from the Chamber?”

Just because you’re not a full Muggleborn, Harry, doesn’t mean you aren’t a Mudblood. Besides, if the Chamber of Secrets has something to do with “dark wizards” then wouldn’t you think they’d want to get rid of the kid who “vanquished” the Dark Wizard Extraordinaire?

Oh, Harry. Never asking the pertinent questions.

“Harry Potter risks his own life for his friends!” moaned Dobby, in a kind of miserable ecstacy. “So noble! So valiant! But he must save himself, he must, Harry Potter must not–“

Dobby is, hands down, the worst character I’ve ever had the displeasure to read about. Not only is he completely pointless, he’s also completely hideous. Like, I can’t even blame Lucius for flogging the thing. But maybe that has something to do with wanting to throw him off a cliff, myself.

Next moment, Dumbledore was backing into the dormitory, wearing a long woolly dressing gown and a nightcap. He was carrying one end of what looked like a statue. Professor McGonagall appeared a second later, carrying its feet. Together, they heaved it onto a bed.

Rowling seriously keeps forgetting these characters are supposed to be wizards. How about that spell, Wingardium Leviosa? You know, the first spell the characters learned in these books?

Let me repeat this question: if these books aren’t about magic, then what are they about?

And why doesn’t the snake eat any of these characters? It keeps complaining about how hungry it is, but when it actually catches a prey it doesn’t eat it. Wouldn’t it have been creepier if people went missing instead of just turning up petrified? But I guess that would’ve been too much for a children’s book. Child abuse is totally okay, though.

“It means,” said Dumbledore, “that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again.”

If Dumbles knows about the Chamber of Secrets then why didn’t he do anything about it? Instead, he casually endangers all the kids in his “care” — again.

“But Albus… surely… who?”

“The question is not who,” said Dumbledore, his eyes on Colin. “The question is, how…”

Dumbles is honestly such a complete arse, I don’t know how Rowling wrote him seriously. He’d rather withhold pertinent information to sound like a cryptic twat for the audience than say anything.

Harry’s spell count so far: zero.

“Harry — you’re a great wizard, you know.”

Chapter Nine – The Writing on the Wall

This is a complete random aside but I’m pretty sure Draco’s most famous line in the minds of the fandom is something like:

DRACO: My father will hear about this.

But he hasn’t actually said that so far. The only time he brought up his father was in the first book when these geniuses were sending the kids into the Forbidden Forest in the middle of the night as punishment for wandering around in the middle of the night.

“But this is servant stuff, it’s not for students to do. I thought we’d be writing lines or something. If my father knew I was doing this, he’d–“

“–tell yer that’s how it is at Hogwarts,” Hagrid growled.

Because evidently Draco assumes that his parents love him and don’t want him endangered. Heaven knows where the vile runt got that assumption from. And then Hagrid, in true Hagrid fashion, bullies him into going in the Forbidden Forest. Because Hagrid is an utter prick.

Most amusingly, this punishment is never repeated because Rowling is a total hack. She supposedly couldn’t figure out any other way to tell the reader that Tommy is Back — as if that was a huge shocking twist — than writing the stupidest punishment in the world. I’m so glad I had Draco make fun of that in one of my chapter codas.

Like, there’s no consistency in the world building. Everything exists only so far as Rowling needs it for her ham-fisted plots and then she basically never mentions it again. It’s fine if you like the world building for what it is, but to hold it up as an example of good world building is just baffling.

That said, let’s talk about the ghosts real quick, shall we?

From chapter eight, we learnt that there is a rather sizeable community of ghosts in this world. Nicholas invited hundreds of ghosts to his Deathday Party; I think it would be safe to assume that these ghosts are his friends, and if not his friends then ghosts he knows, and there would be more ghosts who aren’t his friends and whom he doesn’t know.

Since the Wizarding world itself isn’t huge, I’d say there are a surprising amount of ghosts hanging around.

What I’m getting at is, do ghosts still retain all the property rights they had while alive? Because, let’s say… Albricus has children and grandchildren while he’s alive. He leaves his house and his possessions to his children in a testament, but when he dies he becomes a ghost. Does this nullify the testament? Does he get to keep his house or his possessions? Does he get to live with his descendants if they decide to keep the house? Will these descendants get to evict him if they don’t want to live with him? If they evict him, where does he go? Does he get to stay in the house if the descendants sell the house?

And since he’s a ghost, does he get to work and accumulate wealth for himself or his descendants? Professor Binns is a ghost and he’s still working as the History of Magic teacher. Come to think of it, does the school pay him at all? Since he’s dead and technically doesn’t need that money. Or is the ghostly life a sort of perpetual retirement?

And you know, Myrtle died while her parents were still alive. How does this work? Did they ever visit their daughter? Why did she stay at Hogwarts anyway if her parents were alive?

Is there an asylum for ghosts in which employees work to send ghosts to the great beyond? Kind of like a ghostly version of hospice?

Why doesn’t anyone ever consult the ghosts about anything? They’ve been around for hundreds of years after all; you would assume they have some stories to tell.

And in case someone misunderstands, I’m not expecting the author to show the answers to all of these questions. It’s enough to hint at the answers to these questions so the ghosts — or whatever else you decide to add in your story — actually feel like they’re a dynamic part of the world instead of these static things that exist only for the author’s convenience. Does that make sense?

But anyhow, to the current chapter!

Attracted no doubt by Malfoy’s shout, Argus Filch came shouldering his way through the crowd.

Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, followed by a number of other teachers.

No, but seriously. What are all these people doing in this deserted passage at this time of the evening?

Lockhart stepped forward eagerly.

“My office is nearest, Headmaster — just upstairs — please feel free–“

Oh really?

Harry was dragging his feet along the second-floor corridor to Lockhart’s office.

Harry hurtled around the whole of the second floor . . . not stopping until they turned a corner into the last, deserted passage.

I guess his office must’ve moved to the third floor since chapter seven. Oh magic, it’s so ~whimsical~.

As they entered Lockhart’s darkened office there was a flurry of movement across the walls; Harry saw several of the Lockharts in the pictures dodging out of sight, their hair in rollers.

Evidence seems to point to the fact that these are self-contained copies of Gilderoy’s consciousness, instead of just moving pictures like gifs. That’s — nice.

Snape loomed behind them, half in shadow, wearing a most peculiar expression: it was as though he was trying hard not to smile.

Is she seriously trying the whole Severus the Red Herring again? With the added Draco the Red Herring and Hagrid the Red Herring, I guess.

Also, in the first book Severus and Argus were regularly seen working together:

Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes above his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Snape bandages.

“Blasted thing,” Snape was saying. “How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?”

. . . Wherever he was, Filch must know a short cut, because his soft, greasy voice was getting nearer, and to his horror, it was Snape who replied.

“Filch wouldn’t help us if his life depended on it, he’s too friendly with Snape, and the more students get thrown out, the better, he’ll think.”

So this could’ve been a great opportunity to show this further. Probably not something like Severus comforting Argus because, y’know, neither of them is that kind of character. But some kind of small gesture or a word or something.

Instead, Severus seems to be amused that his sort-of-friend-or-whatever’s cat is seemingly dead. Probably because Severus never cared about anything else than Saint Lily; since that’s great characterisation and ever so romantic.

And Lockhart was hovering around all of them, making suggestions.

“It was definitely a curse that killed her — probably the Transmogrifian Torture. I’ve seen it used many times, so unlucky I wasn’t there, I know the very countercurse that would have saved her…”

You know, I don’t know why Rowling had to write Gilderoy not only as a fraud but also as incompetent and ignorant. Because, you see, Gilderoy rose to international fame through sheer effort and marketing, right? So that would imply he is quite intelligent even if he is a total fraud, yeah?

Unless the whole Wizarding world is infinitely dumber than him since apparently they can’t tell the dude doesn’t know his creatures or his spells or how to apply them. But hey:

“A lot of the greatest wizards haven’t got an ounce of logic, they’d be stuck in here for ever.”

Well, to be fair, very few people question big lies.

Anyhow, where was I? Right, I think it would’ve been a lot more interesting if Gilderoy was knowledgeable and competent, but he just doesn’t have a speck of magic in him. Because even if he doesn’t have magic that doesn’t mean he can’t read and thus learn this stuff anyway.

You know what? I think I’ll do that myself in that fic one day. Although I don’t really know what to do with Gilderoy’s character. I’ve had lots of ideas for Quirrell’s character, though.

Much as he detested Filch, Harry couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for him, though not nearly as sorry as he felt for himself. If Dumbledore believed Filch, he would be expelled for sure.

Hey, would you look at that? Another mention of expulsion. I started keeping track of these and this is already the ninth time in one and a half books. And Harry still hasn’t been expelled, more’s the pity. Rowling is such a tease.

But seriously speaking, I wish she would change it up already.

Dumbledore was now muttering strange words under his breath and tapping Mrs Norris with his wand . . .

Come to think of it, does the Wizarding world have veterinarians?

“No second-year could have done this,” said Dumbledore firmly. “It would take Dark magic of the most advanced–“

But an incompetent third-year could’ve totally done this! But we’ll get to that later.

“He did it, he did it!” Filch spat, his pouchy face purpling. “You saw what he wrote on the wall! He found — in my office — he knows I’m a — I’m a–” Filch’s face worked horribly. “He knows I’m a Squib!” he finished.

Better a Squib than a Muggle~.

You see, I was thinking to myself: why would the Wizards come up with the word Squib? After all, these lovely people already have a word for people with no magic: that is, Muggle.

And then I realised, in the minds of these lovely people it’s better to be a defective Wizard with no magic than a Muggle.

Also, assuming that Argus’ assumption is right and Mrs Norris was attacked because she’s the cat of a filthy Squib, how did Ginny or Tommy know this? Because it’s Tommy-possessed-Ginny doing all this tomfoolery, right?

Besides, enemies of the heir doesn’t actually imply any particular prejudice against Muggleborns or Squibs. It just means enemies of the heir. Who was a Mudblood himself, ha ha ha. A fact conveniently left out by everyone.

Here’s an alternative thought: what if all of these characters are gaslighting the purebloods for something a Mudblood did? And you know, they themselves are doing.

Because Ron said:

“There are some wizards — like Malfoy’s family — who think they’re better than everyone else because they’re what people call pure-blood.”

But so far, we have not seen a single Slytherin do anything to a Muggleborn or a Muggle. That privilege belongs solely to Harry et al. ♡ Wouldn’t be the first time a group of people have blamed and gaslighted someone else for the atrocities they’ve committed. For an ancient and ritualistic example, think of the origins of scapegoat.

Regardless, should Tommy have been able to control the basilisk? I mean, being a Mudblood and all? Shouldn’t the snake have been able to sniff this out and eat him? Not that the snake ate anyone at all in these books — not even Myrtle who seems to be the only one it managed to actually kill. And if controlling the basilisk is only reliant on Parseltongue, then shouldn’t Harry have been able to control the basilisk as well? Not that he even tried, more’s the waste.

“I knew yeh hadn’t really. I told Lockhart yeh didn’ need teh. Yer more famous than him without tryin’.”

But right, Harry doesn’t need to try. ♡

“If I might speak, Headmaster,” said Snape from the shadows . . . 

“Potter and his friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time,” he said, a slight sneer curling his mouth as though he doubted it, “but we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why were they in the upstairs corridor at all? Why weren’t they at the Hallowe’en feast?”

“But why not join the feast afterwards?” said Snape, his black eyes glittering in the candlelight. “Why go up to that corridor?”

“Without any supper?” said Snape, a triumphant smile flickering across his gaunt face. “I didn’t think ghosts provided food fit for living people at their parties.”

Severus is so cool, I like him. But to be honest, I’m more interested to know why all of the other dumbasses went into the deserted passage as well?

Ron and Hermione looked at Harry.

Ha ha, why are you looking at Harry? He’s useless.

Oh hush, I don’t dislike Harry even though I make fun of him as a character. But just because the kid is basically a self-sacrificial person doesn’t mean he’s exactly useful. Unless you count dying as the most useful thing a person can do — which is sad. Especially since he’s a kid.

“Really, Severus,” said Professor McGonagall sharply, “I see no reason to stop the boy playing Quidditch. This cat wasn’t hit over the head with a broomstick. There is no evidence at all that Potter has done anything wrong.”

As soon as Quidditch comes up, Minerva drops the whole impartial act like a hot stone. I’m surprised no one has taken advantage of that.

Dumbledore was giving Harry a searching look. His twinkling light-blue gaze made Harry feel as though he was being X-rayed.

“Innocent until proven guilty, Severus,” he said firmly.

You do realise that whenever Dumbles does this he’s reading Harry’s mind, don’t you? Which means he must’ve been suspicious of something to do it in the first place. And since Harry doesn’t feel him messing around in his head, I’d say there is nothing in there, ha ha.

Also, the word X-ray seems a bit out of place in a fantasy story even if it is urban fantasy. Besides, how would Harry know what it feels like to be X-rayed?

“I’ll make it,” Lockhart butted in. “I must have done it a hundred times, I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep–“

“Excuse me,” said Snape icily, “but I believe I am the Potions master at this school.”

You tell him, Severus! Put that fraud in his place!

As an aside, this quirk doesn’t, like, align with the groundwork of Gilderoy’s character. As I said previously, Gilderoy became an internationally famous Wizard through effort and marketing. If he kept doing dumb stuff like this, trying to do things he knows he can’t do, he would’ve been caught out ages ago.

I just don’t quite get what Rowling is doing with his character. Unless what she’s trying to say is that the middle-aged women who are his fans are even dumber than Gilderoy — Molly included.

“No,” said Ron, without hesitation. “Hearing voices no one else can hear isn’t a good sign, even in the wizarding world.”

Why, though?

Okay, I get that hearing voices no one else can hear is never a good sign because obviously something is wrong then. But Ron seems to imply that Harry’s going mad instead of it being something magically induced.

Which makes me question: why? This world has mind-reading, possession, ghosts, invisibility, mind-control, Polyjuice, and what else I can’t remember off the top of my head. So… why would Ron immediately think Harry’s going mad instead of thinking it has something to do with magic — like a curse, for example? Never mind that they should’ve heard the snake too. And shouldn’t he try to get help for that regardless of which it is?

“You know, it rings a sort of bell,” said Ron slowly. “I think someone told me a story about a secret chamber at Hogwarts once… might’ve been Bill…”

To kindly remind you, Ron did not know the difference between real and fake spells and he didn’t know what happens at Sortings. He does know his obscure Wizarding laws, though, but that’s never more than info-dumping.

“Well — it’s not funny really — but as it’s Filch…” he said. “A Squib is someone who was born into a wizarding family but hasn’t got any magic powers. Kind of the opposite of Muggle-born wizards, but Squibs are quite unusual. If Filch’s trying to learn magic from a Kwikspell course, I reckon he must be a Squib. It would explain a lot. Like why he hates students so much.” Ron gave a satisfied smile. “He’s bitter.”

Or maybe he’s bitter because he has to clean up after self-entitled, self-centred, psychopathic morons the Muggle way? Eeeh, can’t be. He’s just bitter he doesn’t have sparkly magic powers.

“Midnight,” said Harry. “We’d better get to bed before Snape comes along and tries to frame us for something else.”

Um, he didn’t try to frame you for the cat either? If anything, you framed yourselves.

Ginny Weasley seemed very disturbed by Mrs Norris’s fate. According to Ron, she was a great cat-lover.

Is she really? I don’t think Ginny and the cats ever came up after this.

“Stuff like this doesn’t often happen at Hogwarts,” Ron assured her. “They’ll catch the nutter who did it and have him out of here in no time. . . .”

Ron is so cute if he actually believes this.

Harry told Ron about Justin Finch-Fletchley running away from him.

“Dunno why you care, I thought he was a bit of an idiot,” said Ron . . .

I dunno why he cares either since:

From being one of the most popular and admired people at the school, Harry was suddenly the most hated. Even the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs turned on him, because everyone had been longing to see Slytherin lose the House Cup. Everywhere Harry went, people pointed and didn’t trouble to lower their voices as they insulted him.

You’d think after this Harry had stopped caring about what his peers think of him.

Professor Binns, glancing up in the middle of a deadly dull lecture on the International Warlock Convention of 1289, looked amazed.

Rowling keeps dropping words like warlock and sorcerer and wizard and witch but I don’t think she ever actually explained what’s the difference? Or how one becomes a warlock or a sorcerer?

As a slightly related aside, I think Baldur’s Gate had great world building even if most of the player’s party members were freaking irritating (except Alora because she was a sweetheart ♡ Oh, and Wilson who was the bestest bear ever ♡). It was reminiscent of the Roman Empire, at least as far as the deities and the involved bureaucracy went.

Which reminds me, I should really finish the second game but it’s kind of hard to get back into it since I can’t for the life of me remember what I was doing in it.

“My subject is History of Magic,” he said in his dry, wheezy voice. “I deal with facts, Miss Granger, not myths and legends.”

Ha ha, implying history is facts. Which is not to say that there are no historical facts but the history written in so-called history books are written by people, the history taught in school is chosen by people, so just because something has the word history tagged onto it doesn’t mean that it’s a fact. It’s a narrative.

If you want to find historical facts, then you really kind of have to seek them for yourself.

As an example, I know this girl who supposedly really likes history. But she’s never read a historical book in her life — aside from a few romance fictions — she only reads what other people say about history. And she has this weird attitude toward scholars; she subconsciously treats them like this infallible priestly class. Because if you say something she doesn’t know, or contradict something she “knows”, then she either gets hyper-defensive or she gets this attitude of smug superiority: “Tut tut, this is why you should read history, tee hee hee~”.

This is particularly annoying because, well, I like reading. I like reading all sorts of things, even things I don’t necessarily agree with or believe in. And sometimes I like bringing up these things I don’t necessarily agree with or believe in because I think they’re interesting, they’re fun, but then the other person immediately treats it like I’m saying it for real and they must correct me on my “heresy”, and it’s like: “I can’t have a conversation with you!”

But I’m really digressing here.

“You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago — the precise date is uncertain — by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. The four school houses are named after them: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin. They built this castle together, far from prying Muggle eyes, for it was an age when magic was feared by common people, and witches and wizards suffered much persecution.”

I would really love an answer to this question: what are the witches and wizards? Who were the first witches and wizards? Because this seems to be one more wildly inconsistent thing in these books. Are the witches and wizards Muggle aristocrats who happened to get magic powers through a thunderstorm or something? (That’s how you do references, by the way.) And the Muggles are the common people, the common blood? Or are they different species entirely?

Because Rowling seems incapable of making up her mind on what she wants the Wizards and Muggles to be. Which is frankly annoying because it makes for inconsistent world building.

Oh, and does this mean that Muggles and Wizards used to live together? Because you can’t persecute something you don’t know exists. Hagrid also hinted at the same thing in the first book. I bet it went something like this:

WIZARDS: *act like self-centred, self-entitled, psychopathic morons towards Muggles*

MUGGLES: *get sick of it and start burning them at the stakes*

WIZARDS: Perchance it would be best if we separated.

But you know how it goes, some of the Wizards felt resentful about this lack of common people to lord over and decided that no! We must live with Muggles! After all, you can’t feel superior without people you consider inferior around.

“For a few years, the founders worked in harmony together, seeking out youngsters who showed signs of magic and bringing them to the castle to be educated. But then disagreements sprang up between them. A rift began to grow between Slytherin and the others. Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all-magic families. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage, believing them to be untrustworthy. After a while, there was a serious argument on the subject between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the school.”

And did what afterwards?

Besides, didn’t Salazar have a point? Binns just told that this all happened during a time when “magic was feared by common people, and the witches and wizards suffered much persecution”.

So basically, they were at war. You know what’s a common practice during war? You intern the subpopulation of the nation you’re at war with because they could be enemy agents.

“Slytherin, according to the legend, sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school.”

Meaning any random bloke off the street who speaks a particular language.

And honestly, wouldn’t it have been easier just to establish his own school?

But I’ll talk more about the basilisk and the Chamber later.

“I always knew Salazar Slytherin was a twisted old loony,” Ron told Harry and Hermione . . .

Oh, did you?

“But I never knew he started all this pure-blood stuff.”

Um:

“They built this castle together, far from prying Muggle eyes, for it was an age when magic was feared by common people, and witches and wizards suffered much persecution.”

Even if you disagree with Salazar, at the time he had a point. Y’know, to protect the wizards? His own kind? Besides, a one-sided account of how things went down is hardly a fair hearing.

Besides, why would you build a castle “far from prying Muggle eyes” if you’re just going to invite Muggles into it?

SALAZAR: We built this castle all the way out in the middle of nowhere to get away from Muggles and you bleeding morons want to invite them in?

GODRIC: Come on, Sally, don’t be such a hater.

ROWENA: Godric’s right, Sally. The Muggles — I mean, the Muggleborns — are just like us!

SALAZAR: Oh my god, I’m outta here. How am I supposed to run a school with idiots!

HELGA AND ROWENA: *primly* He was always such a bigot.

Oh, and since we’re on this subject; I was asking what’s the difference between Muggles and Muggleborns since Muggleborns are just Muggles with magic? Harry et al. treat Muggles like garbage to be abused but they’re really into Muggleborns for some undiscernible reason. And then I realised, oh, the difference is the magic.

So if the purebloods are “pureblood supremacists” — which makes more sense because it’s their kin, their family, their blood — then Harry et al. are all a bunch of magic supremacists.

Harry had never told Ron and Hermione that the Sorting Hat had seriously considered putting him in Slytherin.

It also wanted to put him in Gryffindor and Ravenclaw because obviously Harry is so special he’d fit in any House. Except Hufflepuff but no one cares about them.

Besides, why is it that Rowling denigrates the Slytherins and the purebloods for something they aren’t even doing on-screen — or hell, off-screen — but the way Harry et al. treat Muggles and Slytherins is all fine and dandy? That’s totally justified, but the purebloods’ aversion towards Muggleborns is totally not justified?

These books are so stupid. *despairs*

“People here’ll believe anything,” said Ron in disgust.

You can say that again.

As she spoke, they turned a corner and found themselves at the end of the very corridor where the attack had happened.

So… they really have to walk through the last, deserted passage on the second floor to get to the next floor?

……why? Or did Rowling forget that this was supposed to be the last, deserted passage on the second floor? She did forget what floor Gilderoy’s office was on.

“Scorch marks!” he said. “Here — and here–“

What were these scorch marks supposed to be?

“I — don’t — like spiders,” said Ron tensely.

“I never knew that,” said Hermione, looking at Ron in surprise. “You’ve used spiders in potions loads of times…”

“I don’t mind them dead,” said Ron, who was carefully looking anywhere but at the window, “I just don’t like the way they move…”

Hermione giggled.

“It’s not funny,” said Ron, fiercely. “If you must know, when I was three, Fred turned my — my teddy bear into a dirty great spider because I broke his toy broomstick. You wouldn’t like them either if you’d been holding your bear and suddenly it had too many legs and…”

He broke off, shuddering. Hermione was obviously still trying not to laugh.

Why is this funny? Like, have a modicum of respect for Ron’s feelings?

“It was about here,” said Ron, recovering himself to walk a few paces past Filch’s chair and pointing. “Level with this door.”

He reached for the brass doorknob but suddenly withdrew his hand as though he’d been burned.

. . .

“Can’t go in there,” said Ron gruffly, “that’s a girls’ toilet.”

Oh my god, he’s so cute.

“No one wants to upset me! That’s a good one!” howled Myrtle. “My life was nothing but misery at this place and now people come along to ruining my death!”

Yeah, so… what are you still doing there?

“Why shouldn’t we be here?” said Ron hotly, stopping short and glaring at Percy. “Listen, we never laid a finger on that cat!”

Says the kid who just a chapter ago said:

Then Ron said, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Trust me,” said Ron. “We don’t want to be found here.”

But I guess Ron won’t be taking orders from Percy because Percy is the outcast of the family.

“That’s what I told Ginny,” said Percy fiercely, “but she still seems to think you’re going to be expelled; I’ve never seen her so upset, crying her eyes out. You might think of her, all the first-years are thoroughly over-excited by this business–“

“You don’t care about Ginny,” said Ron, whose ears were reddening now. “You’re just worried I’m going to mess up your chances of being Head Boy.”

What?

Does this exchange make sense to you? Because Percy just finished saying how he defended them to Ginny, and then — Ron gets all huffy?

He doesn’t even seem to be responding to Percy’s words, but the implied implication that Ron doesn’t care about Ginny so Ron projects that back at Percy.

……I never thought I’d get incestuous subtext in Harry Potter. There was another instance I thought was a little weird about Ron and Ginny’s relationship but I didn’t bring it up because I kind of didn’t want to get into the incestuous subtext. It’s enough I did that with Fullmetal Alchemist, ha ha. And now I’ve forgotten where it was. I’m pretty sure it was in this book, though.

Oh, and yet another mention of Head Boys. But we still don’t know who they are or what exactly they do.

“Who’d want all the Squibs and Muggle-borns out of Hogwarts?”

That’s an assumption, though. Assumption and gossip. The message itself only said enemies of the heir. Which could refer to anyone.

“Let’s think,” said Ron in mock puzzlement. “Who do we know who thinks Muggle-borns are scum?”

Does he now? This is all Draco has said about the Muggleborns:

“I really don’t think they should let the other sort in, do you? They’re just not the same, they’ve never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families.”

Which just means he wants to live with his own kind. Which is the purebloods’ prerogative, as they are their own people.

This is what Draco said to Hermione after Hermione dissed him first:

“No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood,” he spat.

Before this he’d neither said nor done anything to Hermione.

But hey, after the sterling first impressions Harry, Ron and Hermione gave him who knows. He might totally think Muggleborns are scum by now. After all, they sure acted like rude, psychopathic morons to him first. A fact conveniently left out by all the subsequent material.

“Malfoy, the heir of Slytherin?” said Hermione sceptically.

Because Draco couldn’t possibly be anyone cool?

“Look at his family,” said Harry, closing his books, too. “The whole lot of them have been in Slytherin, he’s always boasting about it. They could easily be Slytherin’s descendants. His father’s definitely evil enough.”

And… you would know that how exactly, Harry?

There was only one way to get out a book from the Restricted Section: you needed a signed note of permission from a teacher.

Or you could use Harry’s Invisibility Cloak? Or did Rowling forget about that too?

“I think,” said Hermione, “that if we made it sound as though we were just interested in the theory, we might stand a chance…”

“Oh, come on, no teacher’s going to fall for that,” said Ron. “They’d have to be really thick…”

Yeah, I really don’t get what Rowling’s doing with Gilderoy’s character.

Harry’s spell count so far: zero.

“Harry — you’re a great wizard, you know.”

Chapter Eight – The Deathday Party

I was supposed to add something to something, but I didn’t write it down and completely forgot what it was. Oh no, wait, I remember! It was actually two things.

First, in chapter four Lucius said:

. . . “and I would remind you that it is not — prudent — to appear less than fond of Harry Potter . . .”

So there’s no way he bought the brooms for Draco to compete with Harry. In fact, I’m pretty sure he’d disapprove of the taunting and rivalry Draco has going on with him. So from this, it’s rather self-evident that Draco isn’t submissively obeying his father. At least not in everything.

Second, in chapter seven Ron said:

“. . . If we hadn’t married Muggles we’d’ve died out.”

You see, the so-called purebloods are an extreme minority in this story. So presumably, magic is a very recessive trait, right? This is how I was taught this in school, obviously it’s simplified and it’s been a million years and I learned this stuff in Finnish so I might slightly butcher the terminology. (Not to mention I just woke up from an unintentional nap so my head isn’t working at full capacity at the moment.)

But let’s say that no-magic allele is MM dominant trait and magic allele is mm recessive trait. Harry Potter Biology for Dummies:

MM + MM = MM = no magic.
MM + mm = Mm = no magic.
MM + Mm = MM/Mm = no magic.
Mm + Mm = MM/Mm/mm = one in third might have magic.
Mm + mm = Mm/mm = one in two might have magic.
mm + mm = mm = magic every time.

And you do realise that assimilating an extreme minority into a super-majority is effective genocide, don’t you? You do know that this is how most tribes in the world have gone with the wind, right?

But anyway, that was that short digression.

Ginny Weasley, who had been looking peaky, was bullied into taking some by Percy.

So Percy was the first person who noticed something was wrong with Ginny even if he mistook the etiology? Not that it would be easy to guess that your little sister looks like a wandering wraith because she’s being possessed by a sentient diary she mysteriously found among her schoolbooks.

Maybe she’s one of those great Wizards I’ve heard so much about:

“A lot of the greatest wizards haven’t got an ounce of logic, they’d be stuck in here for ever.”

Not to mention Percy was the only character we saw who was actually proud of Ron after the first book. But later on it’s Percy who gets vilified.

…yeah. Percy deserves better.

In fact, all of these characters deserve better.

Nearly Headless Nick, the ghost of Gryffindor Tower, was staring morosely out of a window, muttering under his breath, “…don’t fulfil their requirements… half an inch, if that…”

Come to think of it, do ghosts exist anywhere outside of Hogwarts? And why are these ghosts at Hogwarts anyway? We know that at least Nicholas and Baron died violent deaths when they were adults or young adults, but we don’t really know if they were students at Hogwarts. Only the Friar said Hufflepuff was his old house. Even if they were alumni, why would they go back there after they died?

…..is Hogwarts the purgatory? Because that would explain a lot about this school.

Also, do Muggles see ghosts? Or are ghosts one of those magic things Muggles, bless their little Muggle hearts, ignore?

“But you would think, wouldn’t you,” he erupted suddenly, pulling the letter back out of his pocket, “that getting hit forty-five times in the neck with a blunt axe would qualify you to join the Headless Hunt?”

Keyword: Headless Hunt. Not Nearly Headless Hunt. Because how dare societies have standards they abide by? Nicholas could always establish his own society for ghosts whose heads are nearly off.

I actually had this thought about Rowling while re-reading these books; she kind of comes off as someone who really wanted to be a part of some clique but she was denied access. I don’t know if this is true as I don’t know a thing about her, I’m just telling you the impression I got from re-reading Harry Potter.

Moreover, how does Nicholas know how many hits to the neck he took? I mean, he should’ve died from blood loss or shock of the first hit. Did he immediately become a ghost and linger around to watch his grisly death? Do ghosts receive the complete information of their deaths after said deaths?

Furthermore, how do ghosts write letters? Do they have to use paper that has died or something? What about pens? Ink? Why is any of this happening?

Nearly Headless Nick took several deep breaths . . .

Um????

To be fair, I don’t think ghosts would be able to talk without lungs and air and muscles but still.

“No,” said Harry. “Not unless you know where we can get seven free Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones for our match against Sly–“

The same place you got your free Nimbus Two Thousand? I’m sure Dumbles would buy you anything if you just bat your eyes.

“Filch isn’t in a good mood. He’s got flu and some third-years accidentally plastered frog brains all over the ceiling in dungeon five; he’s been cleaning all morning and if he sees you dripping mud all over the place…”

So, we learn in this book that Argus is a Squib. Which wasn’t a thing in the first book, by the way, because Neville said his family thought he was a Muggle, not a Squib.

But anyhow, we learn that Argus is a Squib because Harry creepily and intrusively violates other people’s privacy without thought. Which means that Argus is doing all this cleaning the Muggle way, as Ron so eloquently put it.

What I’m getting at is, why? Why did they hire a person with no magic into a school of magic? The castle is huge. It also has house-elves, as we learn in the fourth book. Why are they making Argus, all by his lonesome, clean this stuff up when he has no magic to do it with the flick of a wand? Moreover, wouldn’t some of these substances be dangerous to remove without magic?

And you know, since they hired Argus who has no magic then why didn’t Dumbles hire Petunia? If I recall correctly, in later books Rowling revealed that her issue was always that, ooh, the poor thing also wanted to go to the School for Gifted and Special Chosen Youngsters. Because, of course.

Nothing about Petunia possibly being resentful because Lily got all the love from their parents for being a witch. Nothing about Wizards treating Muggles like garbage to be abused. Nothing about being terrified that she is forced by a madman to take care of her sister’s kid whom another madman is after. No, no, none of that. She was just envious she couldn’t go to the Chosen School of Child Groomers, Criminals, and Petty Psychopaths.

You know what’s actually the biggest waste of these books? There’re the makings of an interesting story here, but the author just didn’t do anything with them. And as I’ve said before, being a children’s book isn’t an excuse. Because what you’re then saying is, it’s okay to peddle trash to kids. Personally I think children deserve better and more intelligent stories precisely because they’re children and their brains are still developing.

“Name… Harry Potter. Crime…”

“It was only a bit of mud!” said Harry.

“It’s only a bit of mud to you, boy, but to me it’s an extra hour scrubbing!” shouted Filch . . .

Yes, exactly. So why did they hire Argus into this position instead of a Wizard who could do it with a flick of a wand or a house-elf who could do it with a snap of their fingers?

Or better yet, schools in Japan don’t have caretakers. The kids clean their own classrooms and schools. Why couldn’t the Hogwarts kids do the same? Why is Harry trailing mud all over the place when he could just vanish it with the flick of his wand? I mean, theoretically since the kid hasn’t actually used his wand for anything yet. Except shoving it up a troll’s nose.

No wonder Argus hates these kids.

And you know, I had this thought. You see, Rowling more or less portrays the Wizards as incompetent, ignorant, dumb, and psychopathic. Like, they just really don’t strike me as a very evolved psychoclass. Personally I think it’s because they have magic and thus none of their actions have real consequences; they can just magic it all away. And this could’ve been an interesting theme to explore, but instead Rowling for some unfathomable reason treats the Wizards like they’re these amazing people because — magic, I guess?

She honestly doesn’t seem to have any self-awareness of the words she typed and I find that extremely bizarre.

Harry didn’t much like Peeves, but couldn’t help feeling grateful for his timing. Hopefully, whatever Peeves had done (and it sounded as though he’d wrecked something very big this time) would distract Filch from Harry.

Thinking that he should probably wait for Filch to come back, Harry sank into a moth-eaten chair next to the desk.

I hope the bolded parts speak for themselves.

There was only one thing on it apart from his half-completed form: a large, glossy, purple envelope with silver lettering on the front. With a quick glance at the door to check that Filch wasn’t on his way back, Harry picked up the envelope and read: . . .

Intrigued, Harry flicked the envelope open and pulled out the sheaf of parchment inside.

This honestly made me really uncomfortable. Harry is brazenly, thoughtlessly, violating someone’s privacy here. Even if you check the front of someone’s letter out of curiosity, you do not open it and read the contents inside. And the author doesn’t call him out for this; instead, Harry escapes from the punishment of being a slop thanks to it and laterwards it’s treated as a joke.

In fact, this seems to be further evidence that Wizards treat Muggles like garbage. Because Argus is a Muggle. Because, get this: there’s no such thing as a Wizard without magic.

They set off up the corridor together. . . .

Nearly Headless Nick stopped in his tracks and Harry walked right through him.

Was he walking behind him?

You know, to be honest, I’d much rather be writing an Ed/Al fic for Fullmetal Alchemist. But sadly, I couldn’t get a start on it. Some days I feel like I’ll never be writing anything again.

“I’m holding a party down in one of the roomier dungeons. Friends will be coming from all over the country. . . .”

I guess this means that ghosts do exist outside Hogwarts. We just don’t get to see any of them. Also, how do ghosts travel? Wouldn’t this have been a good opportunity to introduce the thestrals? Or mention them?

. . . “do you think you could possibly mention to Sir Patrick how very frightening and impressive you find me?”

Nicholas. That really isn’t the issue. Start your own society. I’m sure there are other ghosts whose heads are nearly off. Besides, why did his murderer or executioner stop when there was only half an inch left? Like, they hacked at his neck forty-five times (d’you know how exhausting that would be?) and then decided to stop at the last inch? They must’ve known Nicholas would become a ghost and decided to make his non-life miserable.

. . . in the case of Fred and George Weasley, trying to find out what would happen if you fed a Filibuster Firework to a Salamander. Fred had “rescued” the brilliant orange, fire-dwelling lizard from a Care of Magical Creatures class and it was now smouldering gently on a table surrounded by a knot of curious people.

. . . when the Salamander suddenly whizzed into the air, emitting loud sparks and bangs as it whirled wildly round the room.

……you know what, I’m gonna murder half of these characters the first chance I get. I don’t know how or when yet, but it will happen.

If you think that’s harsh, imagine how sick it is to feed fireworks to an animal.

. . . the Great Hall had been decorated with the usual live bats . . .

Oh great, the live bats are an annual thing. Maybe I should start keeping score of Wizards’ Attitudes Towards Animals.

. . . there were rumours that Dumbledore had booked a troupe of dancing skeletons for the entertainment.

Why don’t we ever see any of this stuff? All we see is basically mundane stuff but with “a magical twist”. Not that this is necessarily wrong, mind, but — why not show both? I mean, if you’re going to mention it anyway?

. . . who was talking to a knight with an arrow sticking out of his forehead.

Why wasn’t he wearing a helmet?

Harry wasn’t surprised to see that the Bloody Baron, a gaunt, staring Slytherin ghost covered in silver bloodstains, was being given a wide berth by the other ghosts.

Why are the other ghosts avoiding the Baron?

Also, a thought occurred to me. Do Muggles become ghosts? If they don’t, does that mean Muggles don’t have souls? Oh Rowling, you really don’t like Gammon Muggles, do you?

Large, rotten fish were laid on handsome silver platters . . .

This made me laugh. No golden plates and goblets for ghosts!

Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington
died 31st October, 1492

Huh. He died on the same day when Tommy murdered Harry’s parents. Not that I think this means anything but I am a bit surprised that Rowling didn’t feel compelled to do something with this. Because heaven knows the woman can’t help herself.

The attack at Godric’s Hollow took place on 31 October (Hallowe’en), 1981 — which was a Wednesday.

Courtesy of potterwikia.

Except, y’know, this is a lie. Here’s what Rowling wrote in the first book:

When Mr and Mrs Dursley woke up on the dull, grey Tuesday our story starts . . .

“Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early — it’s not until next week, folks!”

“What they’re saying,” she pressed on, “is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric’s Hollow.”

Bonfire Night most likely refers to Guy Fawkes Night which is observed on 5 November. This particular Tuesday then most likely took place on 27 October. Even if it didn’t, Tommy’s attack would’ve still taken place on Monday. Not Wednesday. Never mind that 31 October in 1981 was Saturday.

You’re welcome for that bit of useless trivia.

“Heard you talking about poor Myrtle,” said Peeves, his eyes dancing. “Rude you was about poor Myrtle.” He took a deep breath . . .

I don’t think Rowling quite understands how ghosts work. Here’s a hint: they don’t breathe.

“Oh, here we go,” said Nearly Headless Nick bitterly.

Through the dungeon wall burst a dozen ghost horses, each ridden by a headless horseman. The assembly clapped wildly; Harry started to clap too, but stopped quickly at the sight of Nick’s face.

“Welcome, Patrick,” said Nick stiffly.

“Very amusing,” said Nearly Headless Nick darkly.

Why does Nicholas even want to join this group when he doesn’t like them?

And then Harry heard it.

“…rip… tear… kill…“

“…soo hungry… for so long…“

You do realise that this snake is hissing, right? Harry was a Parselmouth, not a Parselmind. What I mean is, this snake is hissing loud enough that Harry is hearing it through stone walls. Meaning: one) no wonder it isn’t catching any prey when they can hear it from a mile away and two) Ron and Hermione should be hearing something too, even if they were mistaking it for pipes hissing or something.

Harry hurtled around the whole of the second floor . . . not stopping until they turned a corner into the last, deserted passage.

. . . Then Ron said, “Let’s get out of here.”

But it was too late. A rumble, as though of distant thunder, told them that the feast had just ended. From either end of the corridor where they stood came the sound of hundreds of feet climbing the stairs, and the loud, happy talk of well-fed people; next moment, students were crashing into the passage from both ends.

No.

How do you not pay attention even to stuff you write within a couple of paragraphs?

This is the last, deserted passage on the second floor. Meaning Harry, Ron and Hermione are most likely quite far from the stairs. The other students have to climb at least two flights of stairs to reach the second floor. The Golden Trio should’ve had plenty of time to fuck off out of there. Why would the other students even walk into the second floor? The feast ended. It’s time for them all to go into their dormitories. Not take jaunts in deserted passages to conveniently witness Harry, Ron and Hermione in a compromised situation.

Then someone shouted through the quiet.

“Enemies of the heir, beware! You’ll be next, Mudbloods!”

It was Draco Malfoy. He had pushed to the front of the crowd, his cold eyes alive, his usually bloodless face flushed, as he grinned at the sight of the hanging, immobile cat.

Further no. The Slytherin dormitories are in the dungeons. Why would Draco climb to the second floor? Where is he going? What is he doing?

And bloodless face? What is he, a vampire?

Harry’s spell count so far: zero.

“Harry — you’re a great wizard, you know.”

Evidently.

Chapter Seven – Mudbloods and Murmurs

Oh hey, we’re already here! I’ve been wanting to address this chapter since book one.

Hedwig was still angry with Harry about the disastrous car journey . . .

Did you apologise to her, Harry? Or is she just supposed to come around because otherwise you feel bad?

. . . Ron’s wand was still malfunctioning, surpassing itself on Friday morning by shooting out of Ron’s hand in Charms and hitting tiny old Professor Flitwick squarely between the eyes, creating a large, throbbing green boil where it had struck.

See? I told you.

But anyway, considering Ron is using Charlie’s old battered wand — which directly contradicts “the wand chooses the wizard” nonsense Ollivander spouted — I don’t quite understand why Hogwarts doesn’t offer spare wands to students.

I mean, these people don’t take care of their wands — or their pets, but that’s another issue. For example, Harry never washed it after that thing with the troll and Charlie somehow got his wand into this condition:

. . . pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end.

So I find it hard to believe that Ron has been the first and only student who ever accidentally broke his wand. Of course, the real reason why no one does anything about Ron’s wand is so that Rowling can later use it to resolve plot points. But by doing that she undermines the nonexistent intelligence of these characters and the world building.

Also! Further evidence that the narration isn’t from Harry’s point of view:

“Oliver,” Harry croaked, “it’s the crack of dawn.”

“Exactly,” said Wood.

Bolded by yours truly. Harry calls Wood by his first name but the narration calls Wood by his surname. No wonder I kept feeling like we were just following Harry around instead of being in his point of view.

Harry started to speak but he was cut short as Lockhart flung an arm around his shoulders and thundered jovially, “Shouldn’t have asked! We meet again, Harry!”

Pinned to Lockhart’s side and burning with humiliation . . .

. . . and he set off back to the castle with Harry . . .

They had reached Lockhart’s classroom and he let Harry go at last.

A moving, black and white Lockhart was tugging hard on an arm Harry recognised as his own. He was pleased to see that his photographic self was putting up a good fight and refusing to be dragged into view. As Harry watched, Lockhart gave up and slumped, panting, against the white edge of the picture.

Hmm? So Wizarding photographs reflect what happened even less than Muggle photographs? I mean, photoshopping has more or less existed as long as photography has existed. That’s why just because a photo of something exists doesn’t mean it’s real. And even if it is real, it doesn’t mean people are telling the truth about the context. But this is really some next level of altering reality.

And think about the implications of this. Which one do you trust? Your own memories or the photographs? Because memories become blurry or fade, but the photographs don’t reflect reality so you can’t trust them either. They reflect some idealistic version of reality, but whose idealistic version do they reflect? Because Harry didn’t want to be in the photograph while Gilderoy wanted him to be in it, and the photograph was taken and developed by Colin. So whose idealistic version of reality does this reflect?

That, or this is like SOMA. A small fragmented copy of Harry and Gilderoy’s consciousness was captured in this photograph, being forced to forever relive this single moment of tug-of-war.

…..that’s actually really horrific and depressing. And yes, I’m aware I’m overthinking this, but I wouldn’t overthink this if the photographs were just gifs of what actually happened.

“You were the youngest house player in a hundred years, weren’t you, Harry? Weren’t you?” said Colin, trotting alongside him. “You must be brilliant. I’ve never flown. Is it easy? Is that your own broom? Is that the best one there is?”

Oh, I get it. Colin doesn’t exist only to fawn over Harry; he also exists to remind the reader what went on in the first book. While fawning over Harry. Because heaven knows sycophants were just the thing Harry was lacking.

“Yes,” said Harry heavily, resigned to explaining the complicated rules of Quidditch.

They’re not complicated. For example: six hoops, one keeper, one Quaffle, three chasers, each goal through the hoop ten points. For extra suspense, two Bludgers because nothing is more exciting than an iron ball potentially beating your skull in, and two beaters. The only position that matters, though, is the seeker who scores a hundred and fifty points when he catches the Snitch and ends the match. If he does this within five minutes, no one else gets to play because what even is a team sport or spectator sport?

Just because the explanation is long it doesn’t mean it’s complicated.

The rest of the Gryffindor team were already in the changing room.

A kindly reminder: all of Harry’s teammates were ostracising him for weeks on end about four months ago. They only referred to him as the Seeker when they had to talk about him. We never saw an apology from them for their behaviour.

. . . fourth-year Alicia Spinnet, who seemed to be nodding off against the wall behind her.

Hey! Alicia was a third-year in the first book! Nice to know.

“Now, listen here, you lot,” he said, glowering at them all, “we should have won the Quidditch Cup last year. We’re easily the best team. But unfortunately, owing to circumstances beyond our control…”

Harry shifted guiltily in his seat. He had been unconscious in the hospital wing for the final match of the previous year, meaning that Gryffindor had been a player short and had suffered their worst defeat in three hundred years.

………ooookay then! Just to remind you all:

But even Quidditch had lost its fun. The rest of the team wouldn’t speak to Harry during practice, and if they had to speak about him, they called him ‘the Seeker’.

And we never saw them apologise to Harry for this. Also:

“I can’t,” said Harry. “There isn’t a reserve Seeker. If I back out, Gryffindor can’t play at all.”

Bolded by yours truly. So apparently they can play just fine without a Seeker. Moreover, if they suffered their worst defeat in three hundred years just because they were down one player, then they’re hardly the best team around. A team should be more than just Harry Potter the Boy Wonder.

But hey, what even is a team sport? It’s so complicated, I tell you.

Marcus Flint was even larger than Wood. He had a look of trollish cunning on his face as he replied, “Plenty of room for all of us, Wood.”

Hey, it’s Marcus! I quite like him; he was really cute in the first book.

Marcus Flint seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing.

See? Ha ha. ♡

Angelina, Alicia and Katie had come over, too. There were no girls on the Slytherin team — who stood, shoulder to shoulder, facing the Gryffindors, leering to a man.

Really? I mean, really? Some of the kids in this team are twelve. And hey, here’s an alternative thought: maybe they don’t have girls in their team because they’re not sick bastards who get massive amounts of delight seeing their girls get beat up by boys bigger than them for sport?

You know, just a thought. Since Rowling is apparently implying that the Slytherins are budding sexual predators on top of being ugly, stupid, and trollish. Because heaven knows kids deserve to be cancelled for the political opinions of their parents.

And from behind the six large figures before them came a seventh, smaller boy, smirking all over his pale, pointed face. It was Draco Malfoy.

Ha ha, he’s so tiny and cute. ♡

“Aren’t you Lucius Malfoy’s son?” said Fred, looking at Malfoy with dislike.

Oh, sure. Go ahead, Fred. Dislike the twelve-year-old kid because of who his dad is.

You know, half of these characters don’t even dislike Draco for his own merits. They dislike him just for his family.

“Funny you should mention Draco’s father,” said Flint, as the whole Slytherin team smiled still more broadly. “Let me show you the generous gift he’s made to the Slytherin team.”

“At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in,” said Hermione sharply. “They got in on pure talent.”

I really don’t understand why Rowling has to be like this with Draco. I mean, why did she have to imply that Draco only got on the Slytherin team because of money?

. . . but Malfoy had leapt on to his broomstick and taken off. He hadn’t been lying, he could fly well — hovering lever with the topmost branches of an oak he called, “Come and get it, Potter!”

This is what she, herself, wrote in the first book. So clearly Draco should be good enough to get on the team on his own merits. Never mind that in later books he keeps level with Harry who gets the second Bestest Broom of the Current Year™. Because, obviously.

Also, to kindly remind you. The best team ever does not have its worst defeat in three hundred years just because they’re short one player. Meaning the Gryffindors can’t be as good as all that, and it wouldn’t make any difference if Lucius had never gifted these brooms.

The smug look on Malfoy’s face flickered.

“No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood,” he spat.

Harry knew at once that Malfoy had said something really bad because there was an instant uproar at his words. Flint had to dive in front of Malfoy to stop Fred and George jumping on him, Alicia shrieked, “How dare you!” and Ron plunged his hand into his robes, pulled out his wand, yelling, “You’ll pay for that one, Malfoy!” and pointed it furiously under Flint’s arm at Malfoy’s face.

So, let’s start with the first one. We know from the first book that Draco becomes really offensive when he feels defensive and slighted. Which, I would like to remind you, isn’t his imagination because his own author hates him. Probably because he has blonde hair.

“I’d be careful if I were you, Potter,” he said slowly. “Unless you’re a bit politer you’ll go the same way as your parents.”

Bolded by yours truly.

This was after Ron snickered at his name and Harry rejected him. Notice the said slowly, meaning he was choosing his words so he’d hurt them back. And the unless you’re a bit politer, because evidently he thought Harry was being a rude gitface. Draco wasn’t rude until Ron and Harry were rude to him first.

So anyway, this is an established character quirk of Draco’s. He becomes really offensive when he feels defensive and slighted. Okay? Also, he’s twelve. No one said his coping mechanisms are healthy, but he’s a kid.

Not to mention this is Draco’s very first interaction with Hermione and the first thing she does is disparage him? These are her very first words to him. They have not interacted at all before this moment. Draco has not said a word to her before this moment.

Secondly, notice everyone’s reactions to what Draco says? Do you immediately physically lunge at someone because of something they said? Because to me this feels like a conditioned response which would mean that someone had to condition this response into these kids and that someone is most likely the adults.

Thirdly, since the first book I’ve asked: what is the practical difference between a Mudblood and a Muggle? I once tried to explain this to my friend but I don’t think I did very well. So let’s hope I’ll do better on this blog.

You see, we, as the readers, know that the word Mudblood is bad. Right? But within the context of the overall world building up until this moment, Draco might as well have called Hermione a cunt which is equally offensive but without the racial, or I don’t know, classist connotations — or at least as far as I’ve read.

Because, ask yourself this: up until this moment, how has Hermione been treated? Take your time and think reeeeally hard. Has she ever been treated any differently from the other characters? Has anyone ever reminded her she’s a Muggleborn? Has anyone ever made her feel like a Muggleborn?

The answer is: no. And that includes the Slytherins.

In quite an amusing contrast, let’s see how Rowling’s precious pets, our darling heroes treat Muggles, shall we! This will be a long one but it’s all for the sake of education.

“. . . even the Muggles have noticed something’s going on. . . . Well, they’re not completely stupid.”

“You don’t mean — you can’t mean the people who live here?” cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. “Dumbledore — you can’t. I’ve been watching them all day. You couldn’t find two people who are less like us. And they’ve got this son . . .”

“S-s-sorry,” sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. “But I c-c-can’t stand it — Lily an’ James dead — an’ poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles–“

“Budge up, yeh great lump,” said the stranger.

Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.

“I demand that you leave at once, sir!” he said. “You are breaking and entering!”

“Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune,” said the giant. He reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon’s hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room.

His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shrivelled crisp packets in it and he snorted.

The giant chuckled darkly.

“Yer great puddin’ of a son don’ need fattenin’ any more, Dursley, don’ worry.”

“I’d like ter see a great Muggle like you stop him,” he said.

“A Muggle,” said Hagrid. “It’s what we call non-magic folk like them. An’ it’s your bad luck you grew up in a family o’ the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on.”

But at that moment, Hagrid leapt from the sofa and drew a battered pink umbrella from inside his coat. Pointing this at Uncle Vernon like a sword, he said, “I’m warning you, Dursley — I’m warning you — one more word…”

“If he wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won’t stop him,” growled Hagrid.

“He’ll be with youngsters of his own sort, fer a change . . .”

He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley — there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal and next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, Harry saw a curly pig’s tail poking through a hole in his trousers.

“. . . Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig anyway there wasn’t much left ter do.”

“I don’t know how the Muggles manage without magic,” he said . . .

“Yer not from a Muggle family. . . . Anyway, what does he know about it, some o’ the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in ’em in a long line o’ Muggles — look at yer mum! Look what she had fer a sister!”

“I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley.”

“I’m not sayin’ that’s not a good idea . . .”

True, Dudley was now so scared of Harry he wouldn’t stay in the same room . . .

“–packed with Muggles, of course–“

. . . and Dudley, looking terrified at the very sight of Harry.

“Oh, I will,” said Harry, and they were surprised at the grin that was spreading over his face. “They don’t know we’re not allowed to use magic at home. I’m going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer…”

For the first couple of weeks back, Harry had enjoyed muttering nonsense words under his breath and watching Dudley tearing out of the room as fast as his fat legs would carry him.

“Just Muggle-baiting,” sighed Mr Weasley. “Sell them a key that keeps shrinking to nothing . . . Bless them, they’ll go to any lengths to ignore magic, even if it’s staring them in the face… but the things our lot have taken to enchanting, you wouldn’t believe–“

. . . next to a pile of comics which all seemed to feature The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle.

“Ingenious, really, how many ways Muggles have found of getting along without magic.”

“Ruddy Muggles,” growled Hagrid. “If I’d’ve known–“

“But you’re Muggles!” said Mr Weasley delightedly.

And this is just within the first and the second half books. But I distinctly remember that, this? Does not get any better. Neither is it ever addressed in the story. So I’m really curious why these morons are so into Muggleborns anyway considering they’re just Muggles with magic?

But anyway, this is the practical difference between a Mudblood and a Muggle: our darling heroes never let them forget they’re Muggles and they make them feel it, too. There simply isn’t any Muggleborn equivalent of this.

“I really don’t think they should let the other sort in, do you? They’re just not the same, they’ve never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families.”

All Draco said, in his very first scene, was that he wants to live with his own kind, to keep to themselves. Harry et al., on the other hand, insist on mingling with Muggles and then they treat them like garbage.

Frankly, as a “Muggle” myself, I’d rather side with people like Draco than with people like Dumbles, Minerva, Hagrid and the Weasleys. In fact, Dumbles and Hagrid can walk right off a cliff for all I care, the child abusing pricks.

So personally, I honestly don’t care how many Mudbloods Draco — or Severus, for that matter — tosses out. It’s just a word. No one treats them like Mudbloods. But I guarantee you, every Slytherin is treated like a Slytherin.

“Never mind what they say,” replied the mother-stork; “if you do not listen to them, they can do you no harm.”

D’you really want to go in the direction that your words are worse than your actions?

Flint had to dive in front of Malfoy to stop Fred and George jumping on him, Alicia shrieked, “How dare you!” and Ron plunged his hand into his robes, pulled out his wand, yelling, “You’ll pay for that one, Malfoy!” and pointed it furiously under Flint’s arm at Malfoy’s face.

Fourthly, Marcus is the best upperclassman and team captain in the world. ♡ He immediately threw himself in front of Draco to protect him. Just to remind you how Harry’s teammates, housemates and schoolmates treated him only four months ago:

From being one of the most popular and admired people at the school, Harry was suddenly the most hated. Even the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs turned on him, because everyone had been longing to see Slytherin lose the House Cup. Everywhere Harry went, people pointed and didn’t trouble to lower their voices as they insulted him.

But even Quidditch had lost its fun. The rest of the team wouldn’t speak to Harry during practice, and if they had to speak about him, they called him ‘the Seeker’.

Nobody bothered them; none of the Gryffindors had anything to say to Harry any more, after all.

To further remind you, this lasted for weeks. And this all started over house points. If this is how they treat Harry after he’s lost some house points, imagine what they would do if Harry did something really “bad”. They’d probably straight-up murder him in his sleep and I’m not even kidding.

And finally fifthly, Alicia actually got a line! Not a very good line, mind, but at least she got to say something.

“We’d better get him to Hagrid’s, it’s nearest,” said Harry to Hermione . . .

Even if Hagrid is the nearest, what do you think he can actually do to help?

Gilderoy Lockhart, wearing robes of palest mauve today, came striding out.

The narration sure likes describing what Gilderoy is wearing every time he appears.

“He was the on’y man for the job,” said Hagrid . . . “An’ I mean the on’y one. Gettin’ very difficult ter find anyone fer the Dark Arts job. People aren’t too keen ter take it on, see. They’re startin’ ter think it’s jinxed. No one’s lasted long fer a while now.”

You know, I had this thought earlier. What if it was Dumbles who cursed the position? I mean, think about it. He’s grooming Harry to be a sacrifical pig who only has to die to get the job done. Harry hasn’t cast a single spell so far. What the hell would he need Defense Against the Dark Arts for? Learning how to defend himself against the Dark Arts would help keep him alive and we can’t have that, can we? It would also explain why Dumbles consistently keeps hiring incompetent teachers for the position.

“Malfoy called her ‘Mudblood’, Hagrid–“

Hagrid looked outraged.

“He didn’!”

“There are some wizards — like Malfoy’s family — who think they’re better than everyone else because they’re what people call pure-blood.”

*absolutely dies laughing*

Do I need to remind everyone again how these same people treat Muggles? How Ron’s mom thinks of Muggles? Hagrid himself attacked a terrified eleven-year-old Muggle boy over something his dad said. Oh my god, someone spare me from this sanctimonious bullshit.

“I mean, the rest of us know it doesn’t make any difference at all. Look at Neville Longbottom — he’s pure-blood and he can hardly stand a cauldron the right way up.”

“An’ they haven’t invented a spell our Hermione can’t do,” said Hagrid proudly . . . 

Yeah, that’s really not the issue here.

“Dirty blood, see. Common blood. It’s mad. Most wizards these days are half-blood anyway. If we hadn’t married Muggles we’d’ve died out.”

Bolded by yours truly. Notice the word common blood. So are the purebloods supposedly an allegory for aristocrats? And the Muggles are Gammon commoners?

Besides, that’s really not how genetics work. Moreover, if that’s how the purebloods want to die out then… let them? No, seriously. If the purebloods don’t want to breed with Muggles, then who cares? Why do you care? What is it to you? Because what’s the alternative suggestion? Socially shaming purebloods to sleep with Muggles? State-forced breeding programs? If you don’t marry a Muggle, off to the gallows with you?

Some people bred slaves in America, just saying.

Marster Zack never bred no slaves, but us heard of such afar off. He let his darkies marry when they wanted to. He was a good man. He always allowed the slaves marry as they pleased, ’cause he allowed that God never intent for no souls to be bred as if they was cattle. And he never practice no such.

But anyway, I feel like I got derailed.

“I knew yeh hadn’t really. I told Lockhart yeh didn’ need teh. Yer more famous than him without tryin’.”

Yeah. Some people don’t even need to try. Isn’t that quaint?

In the small vegetable patch behind Hagrid’s house were a dozen of the largest pumpkins Harry had ever seen. Each was the size of a large boulder.

“Gettin’ on well, aren’t they?” said Hagrid happily. “Fer the Hallowe’en feast… should be big enough by then.”

Better than live bats. Also, Muggles can grow huge pumpkins without magic. The largest recorded weighed 2,624 pounds. Which would be 1,190 kilograms. I wonder how they grow them.

“That’s what yer little sister said,” said Hagrid, nodding at Ron. “Met her jus’ yesterday.” Hagrid looked sideways at Harry, his beard twitching. “Said she was jus’ lookin’ round the grounds, but I reckon she was hopin’ she might run inter someone else at my house.”

Um, they’re in the same house and her brother is Harry’s best friend? Ginny could just stalk the common room if she wants to see Harry that bad. Or, you know, find her brother?

“No magic! There must be about a hundred cups in that room. I’m no good at Muggle cleaning.”

Muggle cleaning.

Besides, as if Ron knows a single cleaning spell. Because no one but Hermione gets to do any magic in these books.

The door flew open at once. Lockhart beamed down at him.

You know, I actually quite like Gilderoy. He’s kind of amusing and dumb, but he seems genuinely good-natured. Well, until towards the end when he tried to Obliviate Ron and Harry. And sure he’s a total fraud, but I find it interesting how hard he must’ve still worked to create that false persona and brand for himself. Which, ironically, means that he put more effort and agency into it than Harry who gets everything handed to him by the author. And the only reason why you sympathise with that is because he doesn’t like any of it, the poor kid.

…I have the strangest feeling I like all the characters Rowling expressively doesn’t want me to like. Well, except Tommy but Tommy is just pathetic.

And then he heard something — something quite apart from the spitting of the dying candles and Lockhart’s prattle about his fans.

It was a voice, a voice to chill the bone-marrow, a voice of breath-taking, ice-cold venom.

“Come… come to me… let me rip you… let me tear you… let me kill you…“

Just because Harry is a Parselmouth doesn’t really mean that he would hear this snake wherever. Through stone walls. So the snake must be going right past Gilderoy’s room at this moment. Besides, if it keeps making noise like this all the time, it’s not a very good hunter.

But more on the snake and the world building later.

Harry’s spell count so far: zero.

“Harry — you’re a great wizard, you know.”

Uh-huh.

Chapter Six – Gilderoy Lockhart

It’s kind of hard to get back into this since I haven’t been reading Harry Potter for the past couple of days.

The four long house tables were laden with tureens of porridge, plates of kippers, mountains of toast and dishes of eggs and bacon, beneath the enchanted ceiling (today, a dull, cloudy grey).

Remind me again, Rowling, how much does Dudley eat?

Look, the reason why I keep bringing this up is because Rowling relentlessly impresses on the reader how mean, dumb, and fat Dudley is. And Dudley is morbidly obese because one) he possibly has a medical condition and two) because, as Rowling kindly reminds us, he’s constantly shovelling food down his throat. Which is his parents’ fault. And Rowling’s because the only reason why Dudley is morbidly obese is because she wrote him that way.

And Rowling very clearly mocks him for it — even though Dudley is a child. But at the same time, Rowling writes these lavish dinners at Hogwarts and the Burrow and has her titular character, her darling precious Harry, eat in the exact same way as Dudley. Or even more than Dudley.

A kindly reminder:

“I don’t blame you, dear,” she assured Harry, tipping eight or nine sausages onto his plate.

. . . (she was now adding three fried eggs to his plate) . . .

. . . but it was with a slightly softened expression that she started cutting Harry bread and buttering it for him.

Mrs Weasley fussed over the state of his socks and tried to force him to eat fourth helpings at every meal.

So apparently Harry eats three helpings like this. I mean, eight or nine sausages? Three fried eggs? And bread on top of that? That adds to twenty-four or twenty-seven sausages, nine fried eggs, and three breads at every breakfast, never mind how much he eats at other meals. But aw, Harry is so thin, the poor kid. He should have some meat on his bones, yeah? And yet, Harry never becomes morbidly obese by the end of the story and the only reason why Harry doesn’t become morbidly obese is because the author wrote him that way.

Rowling has this exact same problem with Draco’s character. She condemns both Draco and Dudley for behaviour she has her precious little pets do as well, and she never acknowledges it. She’s honestly such a hypocritical, bad writer and it pisses me off because she either consciously or unconsciously treats her audience like they’re stupid. Which may or may not be true, but that’s not the point.

That’s my problem with this.

But moving on, I actually quite like grey, cloudy skies. I don’t think they’re dull unless they go on for days.

Neville Longbottom, on the other hand, greeted them cheerfully.

Even though his last memory is of you three petrifying him and leaving him alone in the dark? Okay then. Oh wait:

Neville was a round-faced and accident-prone boy with the worst memory of anyone Harry had ever met.

Maybe Neville just conveniently forgot about it? Which actually kind of has horrific implications.

. . . there was a rushing sound overhead and a hundred or so owls streamed in, circling the Hall and dropping letters and packages into the chattering crowd. A big, lumpy parcel bounced off Neville’s head, and a second later, something large and grey fell into Hermione’s jug, spraying them all with milk and feathers.

I actually thought about this in the first book as well but never bothered to bring it up; this doesn’t seem very hygienic. In fact, it’s again one of those things that seem very inconvenient for the sake of whimsy. Moreover, sure there are diurnal owls — like the northern hawk-owl and the burrowing owl — but most of the owl species are nocturnal. This is something I’m planning to do in that fic I’ve been mentioning, but why don’t these letters arrive at night? Wouldn’t it make more sense?

“You’d better open it, Ron,” said Neville, in a timid whisper. “It’ll be worse if you don’t. My Gran sent me one once, and I ignored it and–” he gulped, “it was horrible.”

Sent it where, exactly? Neville lives with his Gran, doesn’t he?

Ron stretched out a shaking hand, eased the envelope from Errol’s beak and slit it open. . . . He thought for a moment it had exploded; a roar of sound filled the huge Hall, shaking dust from the ceiling.

Here’s a protip: even if your kid “deserves” it, don’t humiliate your family members publicly.

Hermione closed Voyages with Vampires and looked down at the top of Ron’s head.

“Well, I don’t know what you expected, Ron, but you–“

“Don’t tell me I deserved it,” snapped Ron.

True love.

Harry pushed his porridge away. His insides were burning with guilt. Mr Weasley was facing an inquiry at work. After all Mr and Mrs Weasley had done for him over the summer…

Um, yeah. No. Harry’s not feeling guilt. How do I know this? Because Harry and Ron weren’t feeling or thinking anything at all when they were actually stealing the car. They didn’t start feeling bad until they were caught and basically told to feel bad. If your so-called guilt is dependent on exposure, it isn’t guilt. It’s shame.

There’s an important difference, and that difference is usually the difference between empathy and narcissism.

Come to think of it, did he ever even apologise to Molly and Arthur for stealing their car with Ron?

Harry took his, and saw that they had double Herbology with the Hufflepuffs first.

Ha ha, wait. In the first book they had double Potions with the Slytherins. Does that mean their double lessons are always with that professor’s house? Double Potions with Slytherins, double Herbology with Hufflepuffs, double Charms with Ravenclaws. What if they had double Transfiguration?

. . . At least the Howler had done one good thing: Hermione seemed to think they had now been punished enough and was being perfectly friendly again.

There is something wrong with this. I mean, obviously you can and should call out your friend’s bad, self-centred behaviour. And as Yoshida Kenkō put it (paraphrased by yours truly from Finnish):

If you constantly have to beware of disagreeing with someone, in the end it feels as if you are quite alone.

But at the same time, Hermione is basically shunning Harry and Ron over something that isn’t for her to be upset over. The car wasn’t hers. She isn’t responsible for the laws or the Whomping Willow. And she becomes happy and friendly again only when she feels they’ve been punished enough.

Like, I don’t know. Would I feel so weird about this without all the other sketchy writing in these books?

Gilderoy Lockhart, however, was immaculate in sweeping robes of turquoise, his golden hair shining under a perfectly positioned turquoise hat with gold trimming.

You know, I already know the narration in these books isn’t really Harry’s point of view but the narration does pay a lot of attention to Gilderoy’s appearance. It’s noticeable because it doesn’t really do this with the other characters. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it’s Harry who has a crush on him.

Also, come to think of it. Do these books have a single positive portrayal of blondes? Because I’m trying to think of one and I can’t come up with anything.

“. . . But when I was twelve, I was just as much of a nobody as you are now. In fact, I’d say I was even more of a nobody! I mean, a few people have heard of you, haven’t they? All that business with He Who Must Not Be Named!”

Gilderoy is actually quite funny. I like how dismissive he’s of Harry’s fame even though he himself is a totally fake celebrity. Birds of a feather, eh?

About twenty pairs of different-coloured earmuffs were lying on the bench.

I don’t really think that earmuffs are going to be stopping any sounds. I mean, it depends on whether those earmuffs are winter wear or industrial wear. But the fluffy pink pair that Sprout has to wear makes me think they’re winter wear, and those won’t be stopping any sounds.

Also, about twenty pairs? That means there are about twenty kids in this class. It’s a double lesson with Hufflepuffs.

The known Gryffindors are: Seamus, Ron, Parvati, Neville, Lavender, Hermione, Harry, and Dean. The known Hufflepuffs are: Susan, Justin, and Hannah. So there’re about ten kids in this class that we know nothing about since Harry the Boy Wonder pays no attention to his peers.

To nobody’s surprise, Hermione’s hand was first into the air.

Oh, yay. We start with this again.</monotone> This would have been such a good opportunity to use Neville but no. It has to be Hermione all the way down.

“Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative,” said Hermione . . . “It is used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed, to their original state.”

Why didn’t Rowling use this in the third book with Peter? If I recall correctly, all Sirius did was wave his wand or someone else’s wand at him and Peter changed back, right? It’s like, why have this many subjects in this school when they don’t even need any of those subjects?

Not to mention this is already the sixth chapter of the second book and our titular character, the hero extraordinaire, studying in a school of witchcraft, still hasn’t cast a single spell. So if these books aren’t actually about magic, then what are they about?

Like, she could’ve even used Severus to make the potion to turn Peter back into a human. It would’ve been so much more interesting to see Severus reluctantly working with the psychopath who used to bully him and almost murdered him via one of his best friends.

Harry Potter: THE WASTELAND OF MISSED OPPORTUNITIES. No wonder these books have like a million fan fics.

Harry let out a gasp of surprise that no one could hear.

I would like to remind everyone that Harry did not find his hair growing back overnight, the shrinking shirt, Apparating to the rooftop, the winking and talking snake, nor turning his teacher’s wig blue, surprising. He did, however, find courier birds, banks, and ministers surprising.

Because Harry is a freak. No but seriously, I wonder if someone consulted Rowling between the first and the second book, and told her that Harry should feel like an actual human instead of a robot trying really hard to pass off as a human?

But you know what? The thought of Harry remaining unsurprised in front of anything actually quite amuses me. Maybe I should keep that characteristic in my fic?

Instead of roots, a small, muddy and extremely ugly baby popped out of the earth. The leaves were growing right out of his head. He had pale green, mottled skin, and was clearly bawling at the top of his lungs.

Is it any wonder it’s crying since some silly bint pulled it out of its pot? And you know, I quite like houseplants. I have currently about twenty-eight different houseplants. Some of which I’ve been growing from fruit seeds. For example, my passion fruit is growing surprisingly well and it has these thin curling tendrils that I find really amusing. But anyway, you don’t just pull the plant out of the pot. First you loosen the soil around it and then pull it out from the base of the plant where it’s the strongest.

“Justin Finch-Fletchley,” he said brightly, shaking Harry by the hand. “Know who you are, of course, the famous Harry Potter… and you’re Hermione Granger — always top in everything…” (Hermione beamed as she had her hand shaken, too) “and Ron Weasley. Wasn’t that your flying car?”

Ron didn’t smile. The Howler was obviously still on his mind.

Hey, our first interaction with a student from another house. Draco doesn’t count, I think, since the Golden Trio and Rowling hate him. For reasons unknown since so far Draco hasn’t done anything Rowling’s precious little pets haven’t also done. It’s the blonde hair, isn’t it?

But anyhow, is this our first sign of jealousy from Ron? He’s awfully possessive over a girl he doesn’t seem to like at all.

Well, okay, that isn’t quite true. In the first book there were these moments when Harry left Ron and Hermione alone, and then re-entered the scene while they were doing something together and they seemed to be getting along. But the thing is, we didn’t actually see any of these moments. The only moments we see are when they’re snapping or sniping at each other.

Wait, wait, wait. Doesn’t that then mean they only don’t get along around Harry?

“My name was down for Eton, you know, I can’t tell you how glad I am I came here instead. Of course, mother was slightly disappointed, but since I made her read Lockhart’s books I think she’s begun to see how useful it’ll be to have a fully trained wizard in the family…”

Wait, does he mean Eton College? Also, Justin’s mom was convinced how useful it would be to have a wizard in the family by reading books from a total fraud? Soooo… having a wizard in the family isn’t actually all that useful? And come to think of it, what do wizards do in the cases of magical beings attacking Muggles? What do Muggles do in the cases of magical beings attacking them?

He was supposed to be turning a beetle into a button . . .

This class. Why are they learning how to turn beetles into buttons? How is it necessary? How is it useful?

Ron was having far worse problems. He had patched up his wand with some borrowed Spellotape, but it seemed to be damaged beyond repair. It kept crackling and sparking at odd moments . . . 

Why are the professors even letting Ron use this wand during class? Shouldn’t they of all people know the magic might backlash and hurt Ron or the other students? Oh wait, this is Hogwarts. They don’t care.

They went down to lunch, where Ron’s mood was not improved by Hermione showing them the handful of perfect coat buttons she had produced in Transfiguration.

Eh, don’t worry, Ron. Even if you had a perfectly new and functional wand, you still wouldn’t be able to turn beetles into buttons. Because no one but Hermione gets to do any actual spells in these books and the books still aren’t about her. I’m not seeing Hermione Granger and the Chamber of Secrets on the cover.

Hermione sat down on a stone step and buried her nose in Voyages with Vampires again.

You telling me she hasn’t read this stupid book by now?

“Signed photos? You’re giving out signed photos, Potter?”

Loud and scathing, Draco Malfoy’s voice echoed around the courtyard. He had stopped right behind Colin, flanked, as he always was at Hogwarts, by his large and thuggish cronies, Crabbe and Goyle.

Hee! It’s Draco! ♡

“Jealous?” said Malfoy, who didn’t need to shout any more; half the courtyard was listening in. “Of what? I don’t want a foul scar right across my head, thanks. I don’t think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself.”

SEE? I told you he’s a little bit meta. Draco is like the single voice of self-awareness in these books. It’s no wonder Rowling hates his guts. Not to mention he’s blonde.

“Eat slugs, Malfoy,” said Ron angrily.

Ron, sweetheart, you really gotta practise your one-liners. But of course, it’s foreshadowing as well. Can’t let a line go to waste even though most of these books are nothing but waste.

“Be careful, Weasley,” sneered Malfoy. “You don’t want to start any trouble or your mummy’ll have to come and take you away from school.” He put on a shrill, piercing voice. “If you put another toe out of line–“

A knot of Slytherin fifth-years nearby laughed loudly at this.

And this is why you don’t humiliate your kids publicly. Also, Draco is so cute. ♡

You know, so far Draco has never actually mocked Ron as a person. He’s mocked his house and lack of wealth, though.

“Let me just say that handing out signed pictures at this stage of your career isn’t sensible — looks a tad bigheaded, Harry, to be frank. There may well come a time when, like me, you’ll need to keep a stack handy wherever you go, but–” he gave a little chortle, “I don’t think you’re quite there yet.”

See, Gilderoy’s funny. After suffering through Dobby and Colin’s obsequious bootlicking it’s refreshing to have someone who completely dismisses Harry’s “fame”. Also, now I want to write a fic where Gilderoy becomes Harry’s manager, ha ha. Considering how he’s created an entire false persona and brand for himself through sheer marketing, you know he’d be good at it.

. . . “Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class . . . but I don’t talk about that. I didn’t get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!”

Wait:

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class . . .)

Man, they sure give these titles out like candies.

Also, does he mean Bandon, Oregon?

He rolled up his sleeves, brandished his wand and bellowed, “Peskipiksi Pesternomi!“

It had absolutely no effect . . .

You know, if these books had good world building, shouldn’t one of the pureblood kids figure out that one) this isn’t a real spell or two) if it is a real spell then that Gilderoy pretty much has no magic in him since he fails to cast it?

This is why I always give a tiny laugh when someone unironically says these books have good world building. You can like it, it’s fine, but that doesn’t make it good.

Harry’s spell count so far: zero.

“Harry — you’re a great wizard, you know.”

Yeah. Sure he is.

Chapter Five – The Whomping Willow

Or as I would like to call it, yet another one of those chapters that needn’t exist.

Mrs Weasley dashed about in a bad mood looking for spare socks and quills . . .

This is just me but I think she’s in a bad mood quite often~.

“Not a word to Molly,” he whispered to Harry as he opened the boot and showed him how it had been magically expanded so that the trunks fitted easily.

. . . Mrs Weasley glanced into the back seat . . . and said, “Muggles do know more than we give them credit for, don’t they?” . . . “I mean, you’d never know it was this roomy from the outside, would you?”

I absolutely refuse to believe Molly would be this dumb. Never mind that she apparently can’t recognise obvious spellwork.

By the way, where did Arthur learn to drive? Did he go to a Muggle driving school? If so, why are these characters so clueless about the Muggle world? Also, what about identification? I don’t think he has identification that works in the Muggle world.

Oh wait, he has magic. He probably just confounded the teacher and didn’t pay.

They had almost reached the motorway when Ginny shrieked that she’d left her diary.

Imagine if she’d left it. Then we could’ve skipped this book.

“No one would see. This little button here is an Invisibility Booster I installed . . .”

Why didn’t Ron, Fred and George use it then when they were busting Harry out of Privet Drive?

Ron ran to pick up Hedwig, who was causing such a scene that there was a lot of muttering about cruelty to animals from the surrounding crowd.

A hint of self-awareness, perchance?

Harry gave a hollow laugh. “The Dursleys haven’t given me pocket money for about six years.”

But they did give you some? I wonder how Harry spent it. Because in the first book he said he never had enough money for sweets, but he must’ve accumulated enough money to buy at least a lollipop or something. Besides, last year the Dursleys gave Harry a fifty-pence piece for christmas.

“It’s gone,” said Ron, sounding stunned. “The train’s left. What if Mum and Dad can’t get back through to us? Have you got any Muggle money?”

“Can’t hear a thing,” he said tensely. “What’re we going to do? I don’t know how long it’ll take Mum and Dad to get back to us.”

“We can fly the car to Hogwarts!”

“We’re stuck, right? And we’ve got to get to school, haven’t we? And even underage wizards are allowed to use magic if it’s a real emergency, section nineteen or something of the Restriction of Thingy…”

First of, another obscure law that Ron knows. Somehow. Was this ever an actual character quirk that amounted to something or was it just info-dump?

Second of, I get that these characters are twelve. And I get that it sucks when you miss the bus or the train you’re supposed to take. I mean, I mentioned I used to take two buses to and from school. I still remember how down I felt when I once missed the first bus.

Third of, but I still don’t get what’s the thought process of these characters or if there’s a thought process at all.

Like, your parents are on the other side of the wall. So what you do is, you sit your arse down and wait for them. But instead, Ron ponders if his parents can even get back to them, then decides to ditch them, and hijack their car. Did he take even a second to wonder how Molly and Arthur are going to get back home? Or how they’ll feel when they realise their kid, Harry, and the car are nowhere to be found? Or how his dad will likely get into deep trouble at his workplace thanks to Ron’s shenanigans?

And they’re soooo worried about Hogwarts — isn’t it kinda messed up that these kids are more worried about their school than their own family? — and what the school will think when they don’t show up on time. But it’s like, hello, you have an owl with you. Pen Dumbledore a letter and tell him you’ll be late because for some reason the gateway to Hogwarts platform didn’t let you through.

Instead, what we get is:

RON: What if Mum and Dad can’t back through to us?

RON: Eh, whatever. Let’s take Dad’s car and leave.

There’s no reason why Molly and Arthur couldn’t have driven Harry and Ron to Hogwarts, except Rowling just reaaaally wanted to give them “a cool entrance” and get the car to Hogwarts. So the car could save Harry and Ron when Hagrid is, yet again, an unforgivable stupid prick.

It’s like, Rowling has these characters but she doesn’t really utilise them in a way that would make the most out of them. Does that make sense? Because even if she just really had to write Dobby and have him mess with the barrier, she didn’t need to write Hagrid as an utterly pointless red herring.

Like, what did Harry and Ron learn from their trip to the spiders? Aside from “Hagrid didn’t do nothing” which the readers already knew because Rowling never acknowledges it even when Hagrid does do something.

What I’m getting at is, the car didn’t need to get to Hogwarts. Ron didn’t need to break his wand — at least not in that scene. Hagrid didn’t need to be a pointless red herring. The spider chapter didn’t need to exist. Well, I feel that way about most of these books but that’s beside the point.

The car around them vanished — and so did they. Harry could feel the seat vibrating beneath him, hear the engine, feel his hands on his knees and his glasses on his nose, but for all he could see, he had become a pair of eyeballs, floating a few feet above the ground in a dingy street full of parked cars.

A question: why do Harry and Ron turn invisible as well? Because it seems the Invisibility Booster doesn’t so much turn the car invisible, but transparent which is why the Booster has to hide Harry and Ron as well.

Besides, if Arthur could make a button that turns something — the car, in this case — invisible then why is the Invisibility Cloak so special? Because it’s Harry’s?

“All we’ve got to worry about now are aeroplanes,” said Ron.

Okay, genuine question: how did Rowling decide what Muggle things Wizards know or don’t know about?

Why hadn’t they been able to get onto platform nine and three-quarters?

Our great detective, Harry. He doesn’t stop to question this until several hours later.

When they flew back beneath the clouds a little while later, they had to squint through the darkness for a landmark they knew.

“There!” Harry shouted, making Ron and Hedwig jump. “Straight ahead!”

You know, aside from the fact that Harry really doesn’t come off as someone who wears glasses or needs them, I can appreciate that Rowling has kept Harry’s good eyesight consistent. So far he’s always the first one to spot things.

“My wand,” said Ron, in a shaky voice. “Look at my wand.”

It had snapped, almost in two; the tip was dangling limply, held on by a few splinters.

A reminder!

“. . . Well, I say your father favoured it — it’s really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course.”

“I’ve got Bill’s old robes, Charlie’s old wand . . .”

He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end.

“Unicorn hair’s nearly poking out. . . .”

So, you know. I think it’s about time Ron got himself a new wand. Or a wand that actually chose him. Oh yeah, and if my memory isn’t failing me, didn’t Rowling resolve the whole Lockhart thing with Ron’s broken wand? I have to say, the procession of these events is needlessly convoluted and relies too much on coincidence, convenience, and dumbness.

“We’re done for!” he moaned, as the ceiling sagged, but suddenly the floor of the car was vibrating — the engine had re-started.

This is another thing that’s consistent; Ron always gives up first.

The car, however, had reached the end of its tether.

You know, I vaguely remember reading the first two books of this urban fantasy series. I think it was… So You Want to Be a Wizard? by Diane Duane. I really don’t remember much about it, and the series was never fully translated into Finnish so I never read more than those two books, but I do vaguely recall that everyone had their own personal magic. The girl protagonist in the first book… had something, but her little sister could do magic with laptops or computers? And the girl protagonist had this boy friend (and of course, the love interest) who could do all sorts of things with cars and other metallic machinery, I think.

Man, it was published in 1983. Maybe I should try re-reading them at some point? So anyway, I think the actual point was that I vaguely remember the boy friend could make cars alive, so to speak? But don’t quote me on that because the memories are indeed vague.

Uncle Vernon had even padlocked Harry’s owl, Hedwig, inside her cage . . .

“I’ve forgotten Hedwig!”

. . . Hedwig’s cage bounced onto the shiny floor and she rolled away, shrieking indignantly.

Hedwig’s cage flew through the air and burst open; she rose out of it with a loud, angry screech and sped off towards the castle without a backwards look.

Did Harry ever apologise to his owl for this consistently terrible treatment?

“Come back!” Ron yelled after it, brandishing his broken wand. “Dad’ll kill me!”

Um, shouldn’t you have thought of that before you hijacked his car? I mean, they could’ve even waited for Ron’s parents and gotten to Hogwarts through the Floo. I already said this about the characters, but Rowling also constantly introduces these magical widgets that she doesn’t utilise in a way that would make the most out of them.

It wasn’t at all the triumphant arrival they had pictured. Stiff, cold and bruised, they seized the ends of their trunks and began dragging them up the grassy slope, towards the great oak front doors.

Ha, don’t worry. Rowling will have everyone think that what you did was the coolest thing ever.

Ginny was amongst them, easily visible because of her vivid Weasley hair.

By the way, are the Weasleys the only redheads in these books?

Several seats along, Harry saw Gilderoy Lockhart, dressed in robes of aquamarine.

You know, this is the second time Harry has told us the colour of Gilderoy’s robes. I don’t think he’s done this for any other character.

And there at the end was Hagrid, huge and hairy, drinking deeply from his goblet.

I bet it’s booze.

Professor Severus Snape was Harry’s least favourite teacher. Harry also happened to be Snape’s least favourite student. Cruel, sarcastic and disliked by everybody except the students from his own house (Slytherin), Snape taught Potions.

You also forgot to mention that he worked hard the entire last year to keep your dumbass self alive. While you were accusing him of everything on circumstantial evidence. But eh, details.

And is Severus cruel?

From Latin crudelis “rude, unfeeling; cruel, hard-hearted.”

— source: cruel

Well, I guess that applies to him. But to be honest, I think that applies to lots of characters in these books.

He was a thin man with swallow skin, a hooked nose and greasy, shoulder-length black hair, and at this moment, he was smiling in a way that told Harry he and Ron were in very deep trouble.

I feel kind of bad for Severus. Obviously he has lots of fun when students just put themselves in deep trouble — like they’re asking to be punished — but at the same time the rest of Hogwarts kind of really work hard to undermine his punishments and thus authority.

The shadowy walls were lined with shelves of large glass jars, in which floated all manner of revolting things Harry didn’t really want to know the name of at the moment.

But only at the moment?

This wasn’t the first time Snape had given Harry the impression of being able to read minds.

Ha, foreshadowing.

“I noticed, in my search of the park, that considerable damage seems to have been done to a very valuable Whomping Willow,” Snape went on.

“Most unfortunately you are not in my house and the decision to expel you does not rest with me. I shall go and fetch the people who do have that happy power. You will wait here.”

I actually kind of like Severus. He’s funny.

And, Rowling, you can’t keep teasing your readers with this incessant threat of expulsion and not deliver.

There stood the Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore.

Oh great. Dumbledore, the child grooming expert himself.</monotone>

There was a knock on the office door and Snape, now looking happier than ever, opened it.

Snape looked as though Christmas had been cancelled.

Aw, poor Severus. Can’t get annoying students expelled no matter what. I bet he’d also like a break from having to keep Harry safe.

“I must go back to the feast, Minerva, I’ve got to give out a few notices.”

Like what? New threats of painful death?

They didn’t know the new year’s password, not having met a Gryffindor Prefect yet . . .

No but seriously, what do Head Boys and Girls do?

“Skip the lecture,” said Ron impatiently, “and tell us the new password.”

True love.

They hurried up it, right to the top, and at last reached the door of their old dormitory . . .

So how exactly do these rooms go?

A tale in three beats: first Rowling writes a pointless scene that doesn’t make Ron look good. Then she expresses a hint of self-awareness and points out what dumbasses Ron and Harry were:

“I believe your father works in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office?” he said, looking up at Ron and smiling still more nastily. “Dear, dear… his own son…”

If anyone found out Mr Weasley had bewitched the car… he hadn’t thought of that…

“Why didn’t you send us a letter by owl? I believe you have an owl?” Professor McGonagall said coldly to Harry.

Harry gaped at her. Now she said it, that seemed the obvious thing to have done.

“I — I didn’t think–“

“That,” said Professor McGonagall, “is obvious.”

But then she just can’t help herself and has them win even when they lose:

Her words were cut short, however, as the portrait of the fat lady swung open and there was a sudden storm of clapping. It looked as though the whole Gryffindor house was still awake, packed into the circular common room, standing on the lopsided tables and squashy armchairs, waiting for them to arrive.

The dormitory door flew open and in came the other second-year Gryffindor boys, Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas and Neville Longbottom.

“Unbelievable!” beamed Seamus.

“Cool,” said Dean.

“Amazing,” said Neville awestruck.

Furthermore, keep in mind that these are the exact same characters who collectively ostracised Harry, Hermione and Neville for weeks on end in the first book. I wonder if they’d be this enthusiastic if Harry and Ron had lost another hundred and fifty points before the term even started.

But hey, all’s well that ends well.

Chapter Four – At Flourish and Blotts

I think Rowling would’ve fared a lot better if she’d focused on, well, let’s call it domestic fantasy. Because the domestic fantasy in these books are some of the better parts. Like, never mind the school being subtextually horrifying, it’s also pointless. Harry didn’t cast a single spell in the first book so clearly we didn’t have to spend all that much time in the school.

So I guess a bit more Diana Wynne Jones and a lot less… whatever schizophrenic nonsense Harry Potter ended up being. Colloquially speaking, because the cognitive dissonance is strong in this one.

Mrs Weasley fussed over the state of his socks and tried to force him to eat fourth helpings at every meal.

Remind me again, Rowling. How much does Dudley eat?

ROWLING: Well actually, Dudley would eat the fourth helping so there! Ha!

Mr Weasley liked Harry to sit next to him at the dinner table so that he could bombard him with questions about life with Muggles, asking him to explain how things like plugs and the postal service worked.

Come to think of it, how are the Wizards this clueless about the Muggle world? Also, why do the Wizards live in the whimsy fantasy equivalent of the 19th century? Because they don’t actually live in separate worlds. The Wizards have been living beside Muggles since the beginning. They do all of their shopping in the Muggle world if this is any indication:

“It’s all to do with bewitching things that are Muggle-made, you know, in case they end up back in a Muggle shop or house. Like, last year, some old witch died and her tea set was sold to an antiques shop. . . .”

Not to mention this:

Yet sometimes he thought (or maybe hoped) that strangers in the street seemed to know him. Very strange strangers they were, too. A tiny man in violet top hat had bowed to him once while out shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. . . . A wild-looking old woman dressed all in green had waved merrily at him once on a bus. A bald man in a very long purple coat had actually shaken his hand in the street the other day and then walked away without a word. The weirdest thing about all these people was the way they seemed to vanish the second Harry tried to get a closer look.

Also, Arthur. You have a postal service. But instead of people, you use owls.

“Fascinating!” he would say, as Harry talked him through using a telephone. “Ingenious, really, how many ways Muggles have found of getting along without magic.”

Considering what Rowling has written about Muggles so far, that the Dursleys are still the only Muggles we’ve seen, and that everything in the Wizarding world is extremely inconvenient for the sake of whimsy, this just comes off as patronising.

Because using owls is so incredibly convenient that Muggles have to “compensate” with telephones, right?

I still suspect the only reason why these people have magic is because they’re too stupid to survive and proliferate otherwise.

Besides, this reminds me of this:

If you showed a caveman our technology he would think it was magic. And if you showed a modern man magic, he would think it was technology.

Which actually could’ve made for an interesting theme in Harry Potter. But not in Rowling’s hands because she… doesn’t quite handle her themes.

Harry heard from Hogwarts one sunny morning about a week after he had arrived at The Burrow.

You know, I calculated this in the first book. Harry got his letter on his birthday, 31st of July, but that was only because the Dursleys kept them from him. The first letter arrived on Tuesday 24th of July. In real life, it would’ve been Wednesday, at least according to my computer calendar. So this letter apparently arrived two weeks later than the first.

The moment she saw Harry, Ginny accidentally knocked her porridge bowl to the floor with a loud clatter. Ginny seemed very prone to knocking things over whenever Harry entered a room.

True love.

To be honest, I don’t really like these stories where a fangirl or a fanboy gets to marry their celebrity crush. I don’t know, I feel like it’s kind of creepy — like the author is giving me too much information about their own fetishes.

“Dumbledore already knows you’re here, Harry — doesn’t miss a trick, that man.”

You don’t say.</monotone>

Break with a Banshee by Gilderoy Lockhart
Gadding with Ghouls by Gilderoy Lockhart
Holidays with Hags by Gilderoy Lockhart
Travels with Trolls by Gilderoy Lockhart
Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart
Wanderings with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart
Year with the Yeti by Gilderoy Lockhart

I guess I’m to assume the professors choose what books the students should buy every year? A-l-s-o, how does Dumbles choose his staff? Like, seriously.

“The new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher must be a fan — bet it’s a witch.”

Why weren’t any of the Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers women? You know what? I’m going to do that myself in that fic one day. I also need a Potions professor because Severus isn’t going to work at Hogwarts.

“That lot won’t come cheap,” said George, with a quick look at his parents. “Lockhart’s books are really expensive…”

“Well, we’ll manage,” said Mrs Weasley, but she looked worried.

Why are the Weasleys poor? Where does all their money go into? Rent? Electricity? Water? Food? Clothes? Insurances? Gas? Trash removal? Healthcare? Non-food supplies?

Or are the Weasleys poor because people without money are more “down-to-earth” and “morally upright”? Unlike those filthy Malfoys with their filthy money.

Look, it’s not that having wealth makes you a better person. I’d say pretty much everyone agrees on this. But not having wealth doesn’t really make you a better person, either.

Moreover, I was actually thinking about this earlier. It seems obvious to me that Rowling comes from a background of privilege. I’m not saying that to disparage her. A lot of people who talk about privilege do it in this manipulative way to insinuate that if you have privilege you’re a bad person. Or you’re somehow less than. It basically ties back to christian ethics. It’s also unintentionally hilarious because most people who talk about privilege are middle-class to upper-middle-class women who learned all the talking points in their college of choice or tumblr. Which, y’know, already puts them in a position of privilege compared to 90% of the world.

But anyway, that’s not the point. The point is the Weasleys and this: if you think about Harry Potter most of the women are housewives unless they’re single. And I’m pretty sure Rowling didn’t think about it; she just did it unconsciously.

But here’s the thing, women have always worked. They had to. Because you don’t choose to work, you choose not to work.

So the very fact that Molly evidently can choose not to work is already a sign of privilege. If they were really that poor, that hard-pressed for money, then she’d be working. But she isn’t. She just stays at home, apparently cooking all day and screaming at everyone when they come home. And even if you wanted to make the argument that she’s staying at home to take care of her litter of kids, those kids spend almost a year at Hogwarts. She could easily have a part-time job during those months but she doesn’t. Or she could work from home, like many women did in the past.

So Molly may be “poor”, but she’s privileged.

“Oh, are you starting at Hogwarts this year?” Harry asked Ginny.

She nodded, blushing to the roots of her flaming hair, and put her elbow in the butter dish.

True love.

. . . just then Ron’s elder brother Percy walked in. He was already dressed, his Hogwarts prefect badge pinned to his knitted tank top.

Why, though?

. . . Harry’s Nimbus Two Thousand, which was easily the best broom . . .

Of course it is. Only the best for the Boy Wonder, paid by none other than the school itself. Because preferential treatment ain’t a thing if you’re Harry Potter.

“Dunno how Mum and Dad are going to afford all our school stuff this year,” said George after a while. . . .

Harry said nothing. He felt a bit awkward. Stored in an underground vault at Gringotts in London was a small fortune that his parents had left him.

You know, I don’t get why well-off people feel the need to feel awkward about that wealth. I don’t think it’s an upper-class thing, I think it’s an upper-middle-class thing. You know, the people who are wealthy but not astronomically rich.

I once knew this girl who owned a horse. A horse. Do you know how much a horse costs? Plus the food, the stall rent, and the caretaking? A lot. Not to mention she was exchange-studying in Scotland. When I commented on it, she said with this fake coyness, “Well, I guess my family is a bit well off~”.

My gut reaction was: Stop that fake shit right there.

If there is one thing I can’t stand, it’s fakery — which is probably why me and Harry Potter don’t get along. I’m not saying you have to gloat about your wealth, but you really don’t need to fake coyness about it either. If you’re well off, you’re well off. Who cares?

Besides, Ron feels self-conscious about his lack of wealth and Harry feels self-conscious about his piles of wealth. What a pair of dumbasses.

Of course, it was only in the wizarding world that he had money; you couldn’t use Galleons, Sickles and Knuts in Muggle shops.

Harry is such a dumbass, honestly. You could always change all of those gold Galleons to Muggle money, and become filthy rich. How does he think Muggleborns get money to operate in the Wizarding world?

He had never mentioned his Gringotts bank account to the Dursleys; he didn’t think their horror of anything connected with magic would stretch to a large pile of gold.

And they certainly don’t deserve any child support for taking care of you.

. . . Mrs Weasley took a flowerpot off the kitchen mantelpiece and peered inside.

I wonder how Floo powder is made. And why do you have to buy it? How does this stuff actually work? I mean, there’s only one school and all the kids with magic study in that school and presumably they learn the same things. So… why won’t they make their own Floo powder?

Furthermore, is every Wizard grate connected to each other? Can you show up at any stranger’s fireplace uninvited?

“Dudley would think it was a brilliant joke if I got lost up a chimney, don’t worry about that.”

Actually, I think it would be pretty funny too.

“Harry Potter got a Nimbus Two Thousand last year. Special permission from Dumbledore so he could play for Gryffindor. He’s not even that good, it’s just because he’s famous… famous for having a stupid scar on his forehead…”

I noticed this in the first book, too, but Draco is a little bit meta. What he says is never actually a lie; almost as if he’s the single voice of self-awareness in these books. I doubt Rowling meant it that way and I doubt she intended to write him that way, but it is what it is. You may, of course, disagree.

Also, Draco, Harry’s good at Quidditch because he osmosed all that talent out of his dad’s genes. And he has the author in his back pocket.

“Can I have that?” interrupted Draco, pointing at the withered hand on its cushion.

He paused to examine a long coil of hangman’s rope and to read, smirking, the card propped on a magnificent necklace of opals: Caution: Do Not Touch. Cursed — Has Claimed the Lives of Nineteen Muggle Owners to Date.

You know, I don’t know why fan fic authors always think that Draco has this refined, expensive taste or whatever when clearly he likes dragons and withered hands and cursed necklaces. He’s cute with his morbid taste. ♡

“I would have thought you’d be ashamed that a girl of no wizard family beat you in every exam,” snapped Mr Malfoy.

Eh, that’s because Hermione is the author’s self-insert and of course she’s better than everyone but not actually better than Harry. A girl’s gotta know her place.

Also:

. . . interrupted Draco . . .

. . . scurrying over to Draco.

. . . retorted Draco.

. . . pleased to see Draco looking both abashed and angry.

Harry’s actually calling Draco by his name. And don’t worry, Draco, I’ll give you all the good things in the world when I get to writing that re-write. ♡

An old wooden street sign hanging over a shop selling poisonous candles told him he was in Knockturn Alley. . . . He supposed he hadn’t spoken clearly enough through his mouthful of ashes back in the Weasleys’ fire.

I get that Harry didn’t speak clearly, but still, how do you get ‘Knockturn Alley’ from “D-Dia-gon Alley”?

And since this is Rowling, I have this strong suspicion that the only reason why she introduced the Floo and had Harry fumble the name was just so Harry could conveniently witness the scene in Borgin and Burkes. I’m trying to remember if she ever used or alluded to the Floo after this, and I honestly can’t remember? Well, she did use it as a sort of telephone or whatever but I don’t think that quite counts.

An aged witch stood in front of him, holding a tray of what looked horribly like whole human fingernails. She leered at him, showing mossy teeth. Harry backed away.

So this is finally what makes Harry step back?

“HARRY! What d’yeh think yer doin’ down there?”

Oh great. Hagrid’s back.</monotone>

Harry explained all about Dobby and the Dursleys.

“Ruddy Muggles,” growled Hagrid. “If I’d’ve known–“

Note: he says ruddy Muggles, instead of ruddy Dursleys. But we’ll get more into this later.

Mr Weasley took Harry’s glasses, gave them a tap of his wand and returned them, good as new.

I am shocked. Someone other than Hermione actually did a spell in these books.

“So you don’t think I’m a match for Lucius Malfoy?” said Mr Weasley indignantly . . .

Ha, of course she doesn’t. Molly has you completely kowtowed, I don’t think she thinks much of you as a man.

“But you’re Muggles!” said Mr Weasley delightedly. “We must have a drink! What’s that you’ve got there? Oh, you’re changing Muggle money. Molly, look!” He pointed excitedly at the ten-pound notes in Mr Granger’s hand.

So when the Wizards aren’t dissing Muggles, they’re treating them like exotic animals at a zoo. This is the positive behaviour towards Muggles.

Also, do note that Rowling neither describes the Grangers to us nor gives them a single line of dialogue. They’re there just to prop up how tolerant Arthur is. Look how much he loves Muggles and all their silly Muggle things!

Harry enjoyed the breakneck journey down to the Weasleys’ vault, but felt dreadful, far worse than he had in Knockturn Alley, when it was opened. There was a very small pile of silver Sickles inside, and just one gold Galleon. Mrs Weasley felt right into the corners before sweeping the whole lot into her bag. Harry felt even worse when they reached his vault. He tried to block the contents from view as he hastily shoved handfuls of coins into a leather bag.

For the love of gods, someone save me from this upper-middle-class sentimentality. Harry, no one cares about your bloody wealth. And if you feel that bad about it, give it away, but of course you won’t. Like, who actually bemoans that they have money?

I honestly find Harry’s attitude more exasperating than Draco’s who’s constantly reminding the Weasleys they have no money.

By the way, apropos of nothing, I keep feeling like Ginny is far younger than eleven because of the way Molly keeps treating her. I don’t know if this is because when I was eight? — nine? — I was already using two buses to go to and from school.

. . . in a tiny junk shop full of broken wands, wonky brass scales and old cloaks covered in potion stains they found Percy, deeply immersed in a small and deeply boring book called Prefects Who Gained Power.

“A study of Hogwarts Prefects and their later careers,” Ron read aloud off the back cover. “That sounds fascinating…”

Ha ha, Percy is so cute. Kid has no authority to speak of, but he’s still studying how to get into power.

“Course, he’s very ambitious, Percy, he’s got it all planned out… he wants to be Minister of Magic…” Ron told Harry and Hermione in an undertone, as they left Percy to it.

Hey, better Percy than you who just complains about his circumstances but doesn’t do anything about said circumstances.

An hour later, they headed for Flourish and Blotts. They were by no means the only ones making their way to the bookshop. As they approached it, they saw to their surprise a large crowd jostling outside the doors, trying to get in. The reason for this was proclaimed by a large banner stretched across the upper windows:

GILDEROY LOCKHART
will be signing copies of his autobiography
MAGICAL ME
today 12.30 – 4.30 pm

I have this feeling that Rowling was trying to make a point about empty celebrity and celebrity worship through Lockhart. But that’s also Harry. Like, the kid is famous for something his mom did. And his mom didn’t do much else than die — and oh my god, that’s also from christian ethics, ha ha ha.

As George Bernand Shaw acidly observed over a millennium later, martyrdom is the only way a man can become famous without ability. . . . Unlike most positions of power in the highly socially stratified late Roman Empire, this was a glory that was open to all, regardless of rank, education, wealth or sex.

Its greatest heroes were not those who did good deeds but those who died in the most painful way.

But anyway, even Harry’s so-called accomplishment in the first book was solely thanks to his mom, because all Harry did was cling to Quirrell and let his mom’s dubious love do the work of killing the dude.

So really, all I’m getting from this is that Wizards are morons who like their celebrities with a lotta glitz but no substance.

“Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley,” retorted Malfoy. “I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for that lot.”

Eh, considering how much they eat they could do with some intermittent fasting.

“Dear me, what’s the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don’t even pay you well for it?”

“We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy,” he said.

“Clearly,” said Mr Malfoy, his pale eyes straying to Mr and Mrs Granger, who were watching apprehensively. “The company you keep, Weasley… and I thought your family could sink no lower–“

This whole thing is so fake and stupid, and frankly schizophrenic. But more on this later.

. . . Mr Weasley had thrown himself at Mr Malfoy, knocking him backwards into a bookshelf.

Hello, he was holding onto his twelve-year-old son. What the fuck, Arthur?

“Rotten ter the core, the whole family, everyone knows that. No Malfoy’s worth listening ter. Bad blood, that’s what it is.”

You totally shouldn’t judge people by their blood, but you can totally judge people by their blood if they’re, like, bad. Even their twelve-year-old son is rotten to the core!

Stupid book is stupid.

Chapter Three – The Burrow

You know what’s one of the more annoying things about these books? It’s like, Rowling writes these pretty serious (and dodgy) topics. Such as but not limited to:

Harry’s murder attempt

Harry’s addictive personality

The Great Collective Ostracisation

Harry’s second murder attempt, with the dude straddling and choking him

Harry’s deliberate and systematic grooming by Dumbles

And now this. Vernon’s had him barred and locked up in his room, and they only fed him through a cat-flap and let him out to the toilet twice a day.

And Rowling does nothing with it. Like, she doesn’t address any of this. It’s like it never happened. And if it’s like it never happened then why should the reader care? About any of this? Obviously the author doesn’t. The characters don’t.

No one even brings up the Dursleys’ abusive behaviour. They just send Harry right on back and it’s like nothing ever happened.

And you know what’s the really sad part about this? I know several published authors who were inspired by Harry Potter and there’re several I suspect, and their stories really kind of suck too, you know?

This is not to say that I would be any way better as an author. I wouldn’t know because I haven’t actually finished anything yet. Or to put it more precisely, I haven’t actually finished anything yet that was more than 5,000 words. *is dead*

Grinning at Harry from the front seats were Fred and George, Ron’s elder twin brothers.

You mean the Weasley Twins who were ostracising Harry for weeks over house points in Book One? Aw, but they’re friends again. Isn’t that sweet?

‘What’s been going on?’ said Ron. ‘Why haven’t you been answering my letters? I’ve asked you to stay about twelve times, and then Dad came home and said you’d got an official warning for using magic in front of Muggles…’

You know, I really like Ron when he’s like, the best friend ever. And I still can’t remember if Harry ever reciprocates this best friendness. I’m trying to think of what Harry has done for Ron but all I can remember is that time he pretended to dope him. …..in the same book where he was roofied and poisoned too.

Also, another question. Why does Rowling have to make such a big production out of everything? Especially when everything leading up to that big production doesn’t even matter.

Let’s trace the chain of events up to this moment, shall we?

So, the summer holidays start. Vernon comes to pick Harry up from the train station and locks all of his filthy wizarding things in the cupboard. Harry spends a couple of happy weeks bullying Dudley until Dudley’s evident terror loses its shine. Vernon invites Mr and Mrs Mason over so he can secure a deal with them but the deal gets botched when Dobby The Incompetent Lunatic flits over to do whatever the hell he wants “for Harry’s own good”.

Dobby The Incompetent Lunatic drops Petunia’s pudding and then flits it out of there, leaving Harry to deal with the aftermath. The Improper Use of Magic Office at the Ministry of Magic gets a notification that DANGER! DANGER! UNDERAGE MAGIC DETECTED! even though the magic wasn’t underage, wizard, or done with a wand — which actually raises the possibility that instead of the wands of underage wizards being rigged, they’ve bugged their houses.¹

And being the capable chaps that they are, the wizards promptly send an owl over which flies at the speed of light. The Dursleys find out — in a surprising twist! — that Harry can’t use magic at home, and then Harry gets imprisoned for three days. Ron’s dad coincidentally works at the Ministry of Capable Chaps and Ron incidentally hears Harry allegedly used magic in front of muggles, and decides to fly over to ask “hey, what’s up with the owl silence and the magic, mate?”

All of this just to: introduce Dobby who really didn’t need to exist, that there’s danger again at Hogwarts as if it’s ever safe because Dumbles is the greatestest headmaster that wasn’t, blatantly lie that it has nothing to do with Tommy, to introduce the car, and to rack up sympathy points for the Boy Wonder to counterbalance his happy psychopathic behaviour instead of using his upbringing as a foundation for that behaviour.

Instead of simply:

HARRY: Hey, can I go over to my friend’s house for the summer?

VERNON: Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.

Because that long chain of events above? Doesn’t matter. At all. And even if it somehow happens to matter in this book, it won’t matter past this book.

And for a bunch of people who like to pretend Harry doesn’t exist, the Dursleys sure seem bizarrely keen on keeping him.

‘But doing magic in front of those Muggles you live with…’

So this really means that muggleborn kids can’t use magic at home? Because I’m pretty sure the cat’s already out of the bag on that one.

Also, come to think of it:

‘Knew! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that — that school — and came home every holiday with her pockets full of frog-spawn, turning teacups into rats.’

Did Saint Lily ever get any letters, hm?

‘Are you sure that’s a real spell?’ said the girl. ‘Well, it’s not very good, is it? I’ve tried a few simple spells just for practice and it’s all worked for me.’

Or Hermione for that matter?

Harry couldn’t believe it — he was free.

Yeah. For a year before all the wonderful people you so like send you right back where you started.

‘See you next summer!’ Harry yelled.

See? Why should I care? About anything that happens in these books? It’s all either pointless, meaningless, or a big lark.

‘Well,’ said Fred, ‘put it this way — house-elves have got powerful magic of their own, but they can’t usually use it without their masters’ permission. I reckon old Dobby was sent to stop you coming back to Hogwarts. Someone’s idea of a joke. Can you think of anyone at school with a grudge against you?’

To be honest, this would’ve been a lot better than what we got.

‘Draco Malfoy,’ Harry explained. ‘He hates me.’

Kid, if Draco hates you it’s because you consistently acted like a psychopathic twat towards him. Before he’d even done anything to you.

Do I need to remind people again? Okay, I will because I’m feeling petty:

Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley.

‘He’s the gamekeeper,’ said Harry. He was liking the boy less and less every second.

. . . Harry, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hopped down from the footstool.

Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him.

‘I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks,’ he said coolly.

Harry looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face and robes stained with silver blood. He was right next to Malfoy who, Harry was pleased to see, didn’t look too pleased with the seating arrangements.

Harry had never believed he would meet a boy he hated more than Dudley, but that was before he met Draco Malfoy.

Harry and Ron jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy . . . 

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows, correcting their grips. Harry and Ron were delighted when she told Malfoy he’d been doing it wrong for years.

‘Give it here,’ Harry called, ‘or I’ll knock you off that broom!’

Harry knew, somehow, what to do. He leant forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands and it shot towards Malfoy like a javelin.

On the other hand, Malfoy’s sneering face kept looming up out of the darkness — this was his big chance to beat Malfoy, face to face. He couldn’t miss it.

All they really wanted now was a way of getting back at Malfoy, and to their great delight, just such a thing arrived with the post about a week later.

They sat by the hour eating anything they could spear on a toasting fork – bread, crumpets, marshmallows – and plotting ways of getting Malfoy expelled, which were fun to talk about even if they wouldn’t work.

‘You’re worth twelve of Malfoy,’ Harry said. ‘The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn’t it? And where’s Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin.’

‘And I gave Malfoy a black eye . . .’

Anything to get rid of Norbert — and Malfoy.

Hermione did a sort of jig.

‘Malfoy’s got detention! I could sing!’

‘I’m not going in that Forest,’ he said, and Harry was pleased to hear the note of panic in his voice.

‘You don’t think they’ve been hurt, do you?’ whispered Hermione.

‘I don’t care if Malfoy has, but if something’s got Neville… It’s our fault he’s here in the first place.’

Harry, still cheering, nudged Ron in the ribs and pointed at Malfoy, who couldn’t have looked more stunned and horrified if he’d just had the Body-Bind curse put on him.

Half of this stuff is from before Draco did anything to Harry. Half of it is from when Harry had known him only for two weeks. And half of it was started or escalated by Harry and Ron.

So if Draco Malfoy “hates” you, it directly correlates with your behaviour, Harry, not his.

And you know what’s the most annoying thing about this? That none of the Harry/Draco fics acknowledge this. They either handwave it away, blame it all on Draco, or they don’t address it at all. In some really disturbing instances, the fan fic authors even go so far as write that Draco has been madly in love with Harry since he was a kid. As if he’s Ginny Weasley or something.

Frankly, if he somehow fell for Harry when he was a kid then ask yourself this: what part of Harry’s behaviour towards him would generate love? Without Draco being fundamentally broken and dysfunctional as a person? Which isn’t really a great basis for a healthy relationship.

Draco Malfoy made Dudley Dursley look like a kind, thoughtful and sensitive boy.

You know what? I can’t even bother. Let Rowling, Harry, and most of the fandom have their delusions.

‘Yeah, Mum’s always wishing we had a house-elf to do the ironing,’ said George.

I just…

Like, why would you even go with the “slavery bad” with the house-elves and then have one of your “good characters” mention how much they’d like one? Not that this isn’t consistent with Molly’s characterisation:

‘–packed with Muggles, of course–’

But I really kind of doubt that’s what Rowling was going for.

Oh, and then she actually gives her main character — Harry — one.

. . . he could just see Malfoy strutting around a large manor house.

Honestly, how am I supposed to dislike him? He’s such a cute dumbass. ❤

Sending the family servant to stop Harry going back to Hogwarts also sounded exactly like the sort of thing Malfoy would do.

Eh, if I was Draco I wouldn’t want to go to school with Harry either.

‘He works in the most boring department,’ said Ron. ‘The Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office.’

So Arthur works in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office and he keeps misusing Muggle artefacts. Makes sense. After all, people usually gravitate towards fields that give them opportunities to — on second thought, I probably shouldn’t finish that sentence. It’s enough I already talked about incest on my blog. And cannibalism. And torture. And ritual suicide.

Man, I talk about weird things, don’t I? This is what happens when you read too much out of curiosity. Well, since it’s a bit too late to censor myself I’ll just add: people usually gravitate towards fields that give them opportunities to satisfy their dysfunctional inclinations. I’ll leave the rest to your imagination. But here’s a hint: think of morgues and public schools.

‘It’s all to do with bewitching things that are Muggle-made, you know, in case they end up back in a Muggle shop or house. Like, last year, some old witch died and her tea set was sold to an antiques shop. This Muggle woman bought it, took it home and tried to serve her friends tea in it. It was a nightmare – Dad was working overtime for weeks.’

So does this mean that wizards in fact do not manufacture anything themselves? But still, how does a tea set end up from a witch to a muggle antiques shop?

Which reminds me, I was playing this beautiful horror game called Song of Horror. The environments, the atmosphere, the story, all of it was so, so pretty. I’m still on episode two, though, but in that episode there was an antiques shop which looked superb. I should really get on with playing the rest of the episodes.

It looked as though it had once been a large stone pigsty, but extra rooms had been added here and there until it was several storeys high and so crooked it looked as though it was held up by magic (which, Harry reminded himself, it probably was). Four or five chimneys were perched on top of the red roof.

This reminds me of this:

In the evening he reached a wretched little peasant’s hut; it was in such bad repair that it did not know itself on which side to fall, and therefore remained standing.

Which reminds me I should start reading Hans Christian Andersen again. I think it’s partly thanks to the translator but honestly, Hans Christian Andersen wrote such pretty sentences. I wish I could write like him.

Actually, I wish I could write at all.

Also, what’s up with the extra chimneys? I guess they could connect to the rooms but that just makes me think that the Weasleys have an inefficient heating system and that makes me wonder why they need a heating system in the first place? You know, what with the magic and all.

Or are the extra chimneys there for whimsical fantasy aesthetics?

Never mind, I solved the mystery, ha ha:

These chimneys became a status symbol, with banks of tall, decorated, polygonal-shaped brick stacks becoming a distinctive feature of Tudor country houses. (Some chimneys were actually false to make it appear the owner had more fireplaces than he did.)

— Trevor Yorke, The English Country House Explained

Mrs Weasley was marching across the yard, scattering chickens, and for a short, plump, kind-faced woman, it was remarkable how much she looked like a sabre-toothed tiger.

Why a sabre-toothed tiger of all things? Didn’t those go extinct about ten thousand years ago?

‘Beds empty! No note! Car gone … could have crashed … out of my mind with worry … did you care? … never, as long as I’ve lived … you wait until your father gets home, we never had trouble like this from Bill or Charlie or Percy …’

‘Perfect Percy,’ muttered Fred.

Molly also mentioned Bill and Charlie but for some reason Freddie decided to focus on Percy. What’s his deal?

It seemed to go on for hours. Mrs Weasley had shouted herself hoarse before she turned on Harry, who backed away.

‘I’m very pleased to see you, Harry, dear,’ she said, ‘Come in and have some breakfast.’

You know, as much as Harry wants and probably thinks he’s a part of this family, it’s pretty obvious that Molly doesn’t actually treat him like family. The day she yells at him for his dumbass behaviour is the day he’s a real part of the family.

‘I don’t blame you, dear,’ she assured Harry, tipping eight or nine sausages onto his plate.

. . . (she was now adding three fried eggs to his plate) . . .

. . . but it was with a slightly softened expression that she started cutting Harry bread and buttering it for him.

Remind me again, Rowling, how much does Dudley eat? You know, compared to the wunderfull Boy Wonder whose wunderfull metabolism lets him stay wunderfully thin regardless of how much he eats.

‘It was cloudy, Mum!’ said Fred.

What’s that got to do with Arthur’s illegal flying car? I mean, for that to do anything really depends on how low the clouds were or how high you were flying?

At that moment, there was a diversion in the form of a small, red-headed figure in a long nightdress, who appeared in the kitchen, gave a small squeal, and ran out again.

‘Ginny,’ said Ron in an undertone to Harry. ‘My sister. She’s been talking about you all summer.’

True love.

But Harry, who felt wide awake, said quickly, ‘I’ll help Ron, I’ve never seen a de-gnoming–‘

So… do gnomes only live in wizard gardens?

There was a big photograph on the front of a very good-looking wizard with wavy blond hair and bright blue eyes.

Has Harry — or more specifically Rowling — ever described any female character as “very good-looking”? Because I don’t think she quite handles being in a character’s point of view. Here’s a protip: twelve-year-old boys rarely, if ever, think of adult men as “very good-looking”.

But good to know Harry has a thing for blondes. And redheads. Can’t blame him on the redheads. Or the blondes.

‘Yeah, I’ve seen those things they think are gnomes,’ said Ron, bent double with his head in a peony push. ‘Like fat little Father Christmases with fishing rods…’

Putting aside the wizards’ dubious christianism, people actually call Santa ‘Father Christmas’? You know, Santa is ‘joulupukki’ in Finnish. If I translate it literally, it would mean “yule goat”. Which is the sacred sacrificial animal of Yuletide, come to think of it. You know, before it was replaced by pigs.

But anyhow, what do gnomes actually do to be considered pests?

‘This is what you have to do,’ he said. He raised the gnome above his head (‘Gerroff me!’) and started to swing it in great circles like a lasso. Seeing the shocked look on Harry’s face, Ron added, ‘It doesn’t hurt them – you’ve just got to make them really dizzy so they can’t find their way back to the gnomeholes.’

He says, and then proceeds to throw it twenty feet into the air. Also, this seems like really inefficient pest control.

‘Arthur Weasley, you made sure there was a loophole when you wrote that law!’ shouted Mrs Weasley.

Thanks for letting me know, Molly. I’ll keep that in mind.

By the way, if Molly was my wife I’d divorce her. Who’d have the patience to listen to her constantly screaming in your face?

On the third landing, a door stood ajar. Harry just caught sight of a pair of bright brown eyes staring at him before it closed with a snap.

‘Ginny,’ said Ron. ‘You don’t know how weird it is for her to be this shy, she never shuts up normally–‘

True love.

Harry stepped in, his head almost touching the sloping ceiling, and blinked.

If the ceiling is low enough that Harry’s head almost touches it, doesn’t that mean Ron has to constantly stoop in his own room?

‘It’s a bit small,’ said Ron quickly. ‘Not like that room you had with the Muggles.’

Ron, you do remember Harry was barred and locked up in there, right? I don’t think he all that much cares about the size of his room.

And you know, I’m curious that Ron was never close to Percy. I mean, since Book One Ron has been constantly expressing self-consciousness over his family’s lack of wealth, his second-hand belongings, and his house. I’d imagine that it’s Ron who wants to get out of there and make something of himself.

Instead, he just seems to feel self-conscious and complains and does nothing about anything. Much like every character in these books.

---

¹ Instead of wands or houses, the wizards have the kids bugged. Somehow. Thanks, Book Seven nonsense.

Chapter Two – Dobby’s Warning

The creature slipped off the bed and bowed so low that the end of its long thin nose touched the carpet. Harry noticed that it was wearing what looked like an old pillowcase, with rips for arms and leg holes.

We’re on the first page of chapter two and of course it starts with someone bowing to Harry. I guess I wouldn’t mind so much if the reason for this deference had actually been in any way dependent on Harry. But it was his mum.

Also, the old pillowcase. I find it hard to believe that the Malfoys would let Dobby walk around in an old pillowcase. Because regardless of what you feel about the Malfoys, they are still an old aristocratic family — or, you know, the equivalent. And the appearance of their servants is a reflection of the master and the house.

He [chamberlain] must be diligent, neatly dressed, clean-washed . . .

— Frederick James Furnivall, Early English Meals and Manners

‘Oh, yes, sir,’ said Dobby earnestly. ‘Dobby has come to tell you, sir … it is difficult, sir … Dobby wonders where to begin …’

‘Sit down,’ said Harry politely, pointing at the bed.

To his horror, the elf burst into tears – very noisy tears.

Oh great.

We have another Hagrid. As if one wasn’t enough.

‘Offend Dobby!’ choked the elf. ‘Dobby has never been asked to sit down by a wizard – like an equal –’

At last he managed to control himself, and sat with his great eyes fixed on Harry in an expression of watery adoration.

Yeah.

I’m already done.

Then, without warning, he leapt up and started banging his head furiously on the window, shouting, ‘Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!’

You know, I once wanted to write this crack fic about Dobby and the Malfoys. I had this headcanon that Dobby was actually never told to punish himself but he was doing it out of an underlying masochistic tendency because he was an anomaly among the house-elves.

DRACO: Dobby? Oh, you mean that thing. He’s always making a mess of things and banging his head against the walls or ironing his ears or whatever. I suspect he gets some sick pleasure out of it. Father would’ve fired him years ago if it didn’t make the little twerp happy.

Well, since I had this idea for another AU maybe I’ll get to write that conversation someday. Even though writing anything seems to be so far away.

Besides, I find it hard to believe that the Malfoys only have one house-elf and that one house-elf is an incompetent lunatic.

‘The wizard family Dobby serves, sir … Dobby is a house-elf – bound to serve one house and one family for ever …’

Since I like providing people with fun facts, here’s one:

Here’s a picture of a Nordic house-elf (and the shadow of my phone, ha ha) from a book titled Nordic Mythic Creatures by Johan Egerkrans.

Here are a couple of fun facts about these house-elves, translated to English by yours truly because the original was in Swedish and I have a Finnish copy of it:

A house-elf oversees the house, and all the people and animals who live there. House-elves are always male, and they usually appear as small, old men dressed in grey, worn clothes. Often they wear a red cap.

House-elves are notoriously sullen and irritable, and they enjoy solitude. They commonly dwell in barns or stables, and work at night when the household sleeps and doesn’t bother them. Even if they are basically helpful, they care more about the survival of the house than the people who happen to live there.

Even though it’s important to respect house-elves, getting too friendly with them might be dangerous. If you give the elf new clothes, the elf becomes so proud of its new clothes they stop working altogether and leave the house so they won’t dirty them.

The British version of this is brownies or broonies, and the wiki article writes pretty much the same things about them.

‘But why don’t you leave? Escape?’

Oh, Harry.

Of course Dobby won’t escape because Rowling needs him to show how much of a better slave owner you are.

‘Harry Potter asks if he can help Dobby … Dobby has heard of your greatness, sir, but of your goodness, Dobby never knew …’

‘Harry Potter is humble and modest,’ said Dobby reverently, his orb-like eyes aglow.

I really don’t know how Rowling wrote this without feeling the irrepressible urge to throw up.

This reminds me of Book One where Rowling just had to tell how wondrously wonderful Dumbles is through his bootlickers instead of letting me see it for myself. And as it turned out, in an unsurprising surprise, Dumbles was just a child grooming creep.

‘Ah, sir,’ he gasped, dabbing his face with a corner of the grubby pillowcase he was wearing. ‘Harry Potter is valiant and bold! He has braved so many dangers already!’

I think I’m having an allergic reaction to this whole scene with Dobby. Like, an obsequious bootlicker was just what Harry was lacking. Maybe because Ron is going to start breaking off from that role.

‘If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, he will be in mortal danger.’

Oh, Dobby.

That just comes with the school. It’s part of the tuition.

‘Hang on – this hasn’t got anything to do with Vol – sorry – with You Know Who, has it?’

Considering how many times they have to switch from Voldemort to “You Know Who” or “He Who Must Not Be Named” or whatever else euphemistic nonsense, they would’ve gotten off with far less trouble if they’d just called the dude Tommy from the start.

‘Not – not He Who Must Not Be Named, sir.’

So what was the excuse for this blatant lie again?

‘He hasn’t got a brother, has he?’

Should I write a fic where Tommy has a brother? I don’t know, it could be interesting?

‘Well then, I can’t think who else would have a chance of making horrible things happen at Hogwarts,’ said Harry. ‘I mean, there’s Dumbledore, for one thing – you know who Dumbledore is, don’t you?’

This is what a lack of proper family and male role models and propaganda does to your brain.

Harry, sweetheart, Dumbles wasn’t exactly a great deterrent last year when the same stuff went down, now was he? In fact, he was quite happy to let Tommy do whatever the hell he wanted and have you deal with it.

As an aside: there are two types of propaganda. That based on lies and that based on truth. Basically everything you see on television is the former.

‘Albus Dumbledore is the greatest Headmaster Hogwarts has ever had. Dobby knows it, sir. Dobby has heard Dumbledore’s powers rival those of He Who Must Not Be Named at the height of his strength. But sir,’ Dobby’s voice dropped to an urgent whisper, ‘there are powers Dumbledore doesn’t … powers no decent wizard …’

Was Rowling on drugs when she wrote these books? Because I honestly can’t understand how anyone could be so disconnected from what they’re actually writing?

Here’s free advice, you may make of it what you will: “the greatest wizards ever” don’t make eleven-year-old kids fight their battles for them. Like, this should be basic common sense.

Oh wait, right:

‘A lot of the greatest wizards haven’t got an ounce of logic, they’d be stuck in here for ever.’

How could I forget? Logic is the enemy of magic.

This reminds me of something else too:

Gods, like men, revere the boys

who die for them in battle.

But anyhow, I noticed something curious.

Two seconds later Harry, heart thudding madly, heard Uncle Vernon coming into the hall, calling, ‘Dudley must have left his television on again, the little tyke!’

Shaking, Harry let Dobby out of the wardrobe.

He actually seems nervous of Vernon? Which is bizarre because he had no reaction to anything Dursley-related in Book One. Or chapter one of this book.

… maybe he didn’t have any friends at Hogwarts …

‘Have you been stopping my letters?’

This is actually from chapter one but it relates to this chapter as well. So Harry hasn’t heard from his friends for a month because Dobby has been intercepting his letters and now he’s wondering if he has friends at all.

Harry has no fortitude; I haven’t heard from my friends for several months.

Ha ha, I wanted to use that picture at least once.

But I digress.

As far as I’m concerned Harry doesn’t have friends at Hogwarts aside from Ron and Hermione. And I’m still kind of dubious about how much of a good friend he’s to them.

I mean, he doesn’t seem to have any trust in them at all? Like, the two dimwits were ready to get themselves killed because of Harry in Book One but here he is, doubting them just because he hasn’t heard from them for a few weeks.

Rowling could’ve tied these evident trust issues to how the Dursleys have treated Harry but there’s just no indication of that in the text. So I suspect that this lack of trust in his friends is supposed to show how “humble” Harry is. Because Rowling seems to be exactly that kind of author.

Besides, I’m just saying~ but when Ron didn’t hear from Harry, he stole his dad’s car and drove over to see what’s up. Ron is the biggest sweetheart in these books. ❤

Also, I find it amazing that Dobby has enough free time to stop the Boy Wonder’s letters from reaching him. There’s just no way the Malfoys are using him as an actual house-elf.

‘Then Harry Potter leaves Dobby no choice,’ said the elf sadly.

Aunt Petunia’s masterpiece of a pudding, the mountain of cream and sugared violets, was floating up near the ceiling. On top of a cupboard in the corner crouched Dobby.

‘No,’ croaked Harry. ‘Please … they’ll kill me …’

Dobby gave him a tragic look.

‘Then Dobby must do it, sir, for Harry Potter’s own good.’

One question: why is everyone so hideously self-absorbed in these books? I mean, Dobby is completely ignoring what Harry says and wants, he stole his letters and tries to blackmail him with them, and then he gets him into a heap of trouble and says it’s for Harry’s own good. And he’s nothing to Harry. He’s not his friend, he’s not his guardian, he’s not even his acquaintance. And yet he feels this sense of entitlement to do whatever he wants “for Harry’s own good” because he’s Harry Potter the Boy Wonder.

Frankly, all I’m getting from this is more creepy abuse and behavioural conditioning.

I know some fics have mentioned Harry’s discomfort with the fame but has anyone ever actually addressed this creepy abusive behaviour towards him?

There were screams from the dining room and Uncle Vernon burst into the kitchen to find Harry, rigid with shock, covered from head to foot in Aunt Petunia’s pudding.

Honestly, while the way Rowling depicts Vernon is kind of pathetic, his behaviour is still rather manly. What I mean is the way he takes charge immediately. Even when he was terrified of Hagrid — and with good reason because Hagrid twisted his rifle like it was nothing — he still shielded his wife and son.

Uncle Vernon might still have been able to make his deal – if it hadn’t been for the owl.

Aunt Petunia was just handing round a box of after-dinner mints when a huge barn owl swooped through the dining room window, dropped a letter on Mrs Mason’s head and swooped out again.

Since it takes about an hour and a half to travel from Whitehall, London to Surrey with a car, there’s just no way this owl flew over this fast.

Dear Mr Potter,
We have received intelligence that a Hover Charm was used at your place of residence this evening at twelve minutes past nine.
As you know, underage wizards are not permitted to perform spells outside school, and further spellwork on your part may lead to expulsion from said school (Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage sorcery, 1875, Paragraph C).
We would also ask you to remember that any magical activity which risks notice by members of the non-magical community (Muggles) is a serious offence, under section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks’ Statute of Secrecy.
Enjoy your holidays!
Yours sincerely,
Mafalda Hopkirk
Improper Use of Magic Office
Ministry of Magic

Let’s start with the obvious, shall we?

Wizards are total twats.

Considering Harry didn’t get letters like this when he was doing wandless magic willy-nilly as a kid, I’d kind of assume this letter is somehow tied to the use of wands?¹

But while they can tell what type of magic was performed and at what time it was performed, they supposedly can’t tell it wasn’t performed by Harry or by wand? Neither did they send an official over to check Harry’s wand, which is a thing as we learn in later books.

Also, a kind reminder:

His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shrivelled crisp packets in it and he snorted. He bent down over the fireplace; they couldn’t see what he was doing but when he drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire there.

He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley — there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal and next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, Harry saw a curly pig’s tail poking through a hole in his trousers.

These are spells Hagrid did in front of muggles — and to muggles. With a wand that was broken in half when he was thirteen. So you would assume the wand is still registered to an underage wizard, yeah? But Hagrid didn’t get any owls or consequences for his actions.

More’s the shame.

But I digress.

These morons also kindly remind Harry that the use of magic in front of “members of non-magical community” is a serious offence but they have no problems whatsoever sending him an owl when there are presumably still muggles present?

Or the very fact that these are the same morons who built their train platform in the middle of a muggle train station, and they have no qualms about doing whatever they want in front of muggles and then messing with their memories for something they did — and oh my god, that’s gaslighting.

Gaslighting is a form of psychological manipulation in which a person or a group covertly sows seeds of doubt in a targeted individual or group, making them question their own memory, perception, or judgement, often evoking in them cognitive dissonance and other changes, including low self-esteem.

Bolded by yours truly.

Of course, the wizards can do it a bit more literally than people in real life.

What are these books? A how-to manual on abuse?

Besides,

‘Knew! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that – that school – and came home every holiday with her pockets full of frog-spawn, turning teacups into rats.’

‘Are you sure that’s a real spell?’ said the girl. ‘Well, it’s not very good, is it? I’ve tried a few simple spells just for practice and it’s all worked for me.’

Did Lily and Hermione get in trouble for these spells they used around muggles? I doubt it because it wasn’t “plot relevant”, such as it were.

‘Well, I’ve got news for you, boy … I’m locking you up … you’re never going back to that school … never … and if you try and magic yourself out – they’ll expel you!’

Why do you assume no one else won’t come to magic him out? Did you forget what happened in Book One, Vernon? They sent Hagrid to fetch him, remember? He spent half the night terrorising you, and then attacked and almost killed your son?

Otherwise, he was locked in his room around the clock.

But curiously, they didn’t lock him back into the cupboard under the stairs.

What was the good of magicking himself out of his room if Hogwarts would expel him for doing it?

This is actually a problem I had with Boku no Hero Academia as well. So basically, the authors create these worlds where most people have either magic or superpowers which essentially amount to weapons of mass destruction. And then the authors don’t let the characters use those powers.

In the case of Harry Potter, they’re not allowed to use magic in the school corridors. They’re not allowed to use magic at home. They’re not allowed to use magic in front of muggles, which means even if they could use it at home the muggleborn kids still wouldn’t be able to use it. So they can basically only use magic during lessons, which might explain why Harry didn’t cast a single spell in Book One. Or why Quirrell didn’t just adava kedavra the kid to death.

In the case of Boku no Hero Academia, they’re not allowed to use their powers in public, at school, or in sports. They can use it to do basically cheap parlour tricks at home. So the only ones who can use their powers are the kids studying to be heroes (during lessons), the heroes because they are state-sanctioned to use them, and the villains because they just don’t care.

And I just really can’t help but think that this is programming the readers into this learned helplessness. That even if you did get power you still won’t use it because the authorities don’t want you to. Because why would the state confiscate your guns, for example, if they know you won’t ever actually use them? You’re not a threat.

And it’s even worse in these stories because the power isn’t some object these characters can purchase. It’s literally a part of their genetic makeup and then they’re not allowed to use it? That’s some deeply sick control you’re espousing there.

The other thing is, according to neuroscience people don’t actually learn helplessness. Helplessness is the brain’s default state. It’s the helpfulness that’s learned.

And this is why I say that Katsuki is a better role model than Izuku — though I know that loads of people would disagree with me on that one because they think Katsuki is a psychopathic bully with BPD. But Katsuki is the only character in the entire manga with any agency, autonomy, or will to power. Everything has gone wrong for him — at least as far as he’s concerned — but he still doesn’t give up. Everyone thinks he’s more suited to be a villain than a hero and he doesn’t care.

Contrast him with Izuku who just, very simply, didn’t do anything for himself. At least not until he got permission from authority.

Katsuki is also, curiously, the only character who tells others to do something for themselves. In the provisional license exam, he tells a pair of HUCs to “save your damn selves”. And yeah, it was used as a joke and it’s the reason why Katsuki didn’t pass the exam but.

The thing with Boku no Hero Academia is this: 80% of that world’s population has quirks. This is stated on the third page of the manga. And the governments in this world edicted laws that corralled this population back into forced helplessness. Because even though they all have quirks, the vast majority of this population is daily victimised by villains and they don’t even try to use their quirks against them. They don’t even try to help themselves.

So yeah. Out of all the characters in Boku no Hero Academia, I think Katsuki is the best role model.

Which is also why I think Boku no Hero Academia would’ve been a lot more interesting with the Liberation Army as the main villains. Because they actually wanted people to be able to use their powers.

But anyway, where was I?

Would they be able to make the Dursleys let him go?

I don’t see why not since it worked fine in Book One where Hagrid just took you against your guardian’s express denial.

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¹ According to Book Seven, they have the kids bugged. Which doesn’t make sense but hey, when did anything in these books make any sense?