Chapter Thirty – The White Tomb

How are living paintings demonstrably different from horcruxes aside from the ability to actually interact with the world?

What I mean is, horcruxes are a vessel for a part of yourself, just like the living paintings.

In other news, I was listening to Aviators’ cover of Zombie and I got sad and sentimental. I also found it amazing that an almost six-minute song did the theme of war and intraracial conflict far better than Harry Potters managed in seven books and 1925 e-pages.

Well, of course the song is about real events so that’s most likely the reason why.

All lessons were suspended, all examinations postponed.

While I guess this is understandable this time, I mostly wonder how many times they’ve postponed or cancelled the examinations? At least in Book Two? And probably in Book Four as well?

Some students were hurried away from Hogwarts by their parents over the next couple of days – the Patil twins were gone before breakfast on the morning following Dumbledore’s death and Zacharias Smith was escorted from the castle by his haughty-looking father.

The Patil Twins “were gone” but Zacharias was “escorted” by his “haughty-looking” father. *massive eye roll*

Seamus Finnigan, on the other hand, refused point-blank to accompany his mother home; they had a shouting match in the Entrance Hall which was resolved when she agreed that he could remain behind for the funeral. She had difficulty in finding a bed in Hogsmeade, Seamus told Harry and Ron, for wizards and witches were pouring into the village, preparing to pay their last respects to Dumbledore.

Yeah. No to all of that.

Some excitement was caused among the younger students, who had never seen it before, when a powder-blue carriage the size of a house, pulled by a dozen giant winged palominos, came soaring out of the sky in the late afternoon before the funeral and landed on the edge of the Forest. Harry watched from a window as a gigantic and handsome olive-skinned, black-haired woman descended the carriage steps and threw herself into the waiting Hagrid’s arms.

And no to all of this too.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were spending all of their time together.

AND Ginny too. Will the wonders ever cease.

… and hour by hour, he put off saying the thing that he knew he must say, doing what he knew it was right to do, because it was too hard to forgo his best source of comfort.

“Best source of comfort”?

Ginny?

Okay, I’ll just:

SHOW, ROWLING. DON’T TELL.

I mean, we have not once seen Ginny be a comfort to Harry. Not even when Rowling had perfect and ample opportunities to do so.

They visited the hospital wing twice a day: Neville had been discharged, but Bill remained under Madam Pomfrey’s care. His scars were as bad as ever; in truth, he now bore a distinct resemblance to Mad-Eye Moody, though thankfully with both eyes and legs, but in personality he seemed just the same as ever. All that appeared to have changed was that he now had a great liking for very rare steaks.

Come to think of it, was Bill even mentioned in this book before he got his face chewed? Because I have to admit, I honestly don’t remember what has been going on in this book aside from teenage romance drama and quidditch.

‘… so eet ees lucky ’e is marrying me,’ said Fleur happily, plumping up Bill’s pillows, ‘because ze British overcook their meat, I ’ave always said this.’

Fleur is cute, though, ha ha.

‘She’s not that bad,’ said Harry. ‘Ugly, though,’ he added hastily, as Ginny raised her eyebrows, and she let out a reluctant giggle.

Uh-huh.

As a totally unrelated aside~ every time Harry sees Fleur, he has the wherewithal to remind the reader how very beautiful she is. Something he still hasn’t done about Ginny. In fact, it was an insane adult-child of a death eater who was calling Ginny pretty in the previous chapter.

…..or the chapter before that.

‘Of course there isn’t,’ said Harry, who became angry every time this subject cropped up. ‘They won’t find Snape till they find Voldemort, and seeing as they’ve never managed to do that in all this time …’

‘I’m going to go to bed,’ yawned Ginny. ‘I haven’t been sleeping that well since … well … I could do with some sleep.’

Ha ha, Ginny made herself unsubtly scarce as soon as Harry started ranting about Severus and Tommy.

She kissed Harry (Ron looked away pointedly) . . .

More Ron/Ginny proofs!

He did not feel the way he had so often felt before, excited, curious, burning to get to the bottom of a mystery . . .

Harry. You have not once in your life felt any of those things. In fact, you are so singularly incurious about everything that I’ve been consistently pointing it out throughout the books. You were the moron who was all “What do I care how Hermione is teleporting and appearing in different classes at once?”

The fame is getting to his head. He literally thinks he’s something he’s not.

. . . the path that he and Dumbledore had set out upon together . . .

“Together”.

You know, I would honestly pity this fool if he wasn’t such a complete tool and a psychopathic moron on top of that.

‘No,’ she said sadly, ‘I’ve been trying, Harry, but I haven’t found anything … there are a couple of reasonably well-known wizards with those initials . . .’

Why on earth do you morons think that the fake locket belongs to a well-known wizard?

‘No – no – Harry, I didn’t mean that!’ she said hastily, looking around to check that they were not being overheard. ‘It’s just that I was right about Eileen Prince once owning the book. You see … she was Snape’s mother!’

‘I thought she wasn’t much of a looker,’ said Ron.

Look at that. You can add that to the Draco strawmen pile. Here’s Ron, dissing a woman he doesn’t even know just because he dislikes her son.

‘I was going through the rest of the old Prophets and there was a tiny announcement about Eileen Prince marrying a man called Tobias Snape, and then later an announcement saying that she’d given birth to a –’

‘– murderer,’ spat Harry.

This kid is honestly so ridiculously histrionic.

‘Yeah, that fits,’ said Harry. ‘He’d play up the pure-blood side so he could get in with Lucius Malfoy and the rest of them … he’s just like Voldemort. Pure-blood Pure-blood mother, Muggle father … ashamed of his parentage, trying to make himself feared using the Dark Arts, gave himself an impressive new name – Lord Voldemort – the Half-Blood Prince – how could Dumbledore have missed –?’

Harry, it’s not like you know anything about Severus? I guess you know a bit more about Tommy now that we’ve wasted half the book on totally important flashbacks that could’ve been summarised with a few paragraphs of dialogue.

He broke off, looking out of the window. He could not stop himself dwelling upon Dumbledore’s inexcusable trust in Snape …

Considering what a brainless Dumbles puppet you are, to the point that you’re going to be following his orders even after his long-overdue death, would it by any chance occur to you that maybe Dumbles had a good reason to trust Severus?

… but as Hermione had just inadvertently reminded him, he, Harry, had been taken in just the same … in spite of the increasing nastiness of those scribbled spells, he had refused to believe ill of the boy who had been so clever, who had helped him so much …

Oh so now they’re increasingly nasty spells when you know they came from Severus?

What a stupid fucking brat.

It didn’t give him pause when James used levicorpus to torture Severus. It didn’t give him pause that it was the exact same spell that “death eaters” used on helpless muggles. It didn’t give him pause when he almost eviscerated Draco to death.

No, what finally made Harry call them increasingly nasty spells was whom they came from!

‘But why didn’t he turn you in?’

‘I don’t think he wanted to associate himself with that book,’ said Hermione. ‘I don’t think Dumbledore would have liked it very much if he’d known. And even if Snape pretended it hadn’t been his, Slughorn would have recognised his writing at once. Anyway, the book was left in Snape’s old classroom, and I’ll bet Dumbledore knew his mother was called “Prince”.’

Oh my god, can we stop with these morons speculating on characters they don’t know or understand at all and just get to the end already? I mean, they’ve been consistently wrong about Severus since Book One. In Book Three they thought Severus was poisoning Lupin, not because of any shred of evidence or suspicious behaviour from Severus, but literally “just because”. Because Severus is so mean.

‘I should’ve shown the book to Dumbledore,’ said Harry. ‘All that time he was showing me how Voldemort was evil even when he was at school, and I had proof Snape was, too –’

‘“Evil” is a strong word,’ said Hermione quietly.

‘You were the one who kept telling me the book was dangerous!’

‘I’m trying to say, Harry, that you’re putting too much blame on yourself. I thought the Prince seemed to have a nasty sense of humour, but I would never have guessed he was a potential killer …’

How on earth did we get from “evil is a strong word” to “Oh, Harry, you needn’t feel bad about yourself”?

Also, you all have a nasty sense of humour. All. of. you.

Silence fell between them, each of them lost in their own thoughts, but Harry was sure that they, like him, were thinking about the following morning, when Dumbledore’s body would be laid to rest.

Yeah, Harry, how about you quit making assumptions about other people?

Harry had never attended a funeral before; there had been no body to bury when Sirius had died.

Well, now that you mentioned it, you could’ve given him a small informal funeral? I mean, a funeral isn’t just about the body, it’s also a ritual for mourning.

But what am I saying, Harry doesn’t care about anyone else but himself.

He did not know what to expect and was a little worried about what he might see, about how he would feel.

What on earth do you think you might see? What is he, three?

Admittedly he had not, as he had with Sirius, looked desperately for some kind of loophole, some way that Dumbledore would come back …

You mean when you once asked about ghosts or when you accidentally found the mirror Sirius gave you as a christmas gift and didn’t think about since?

Because that… sure was desperate looking.

Harry rose early to pack the next day; the Hogwarts Express would be leaving an hour after the funeral. Downstairs he found the mood in the Great Hall subdued.

You know, at the start of this chapter Harry was all “I can’t possibly leave my only source of comfort~”, implying Ginny(?), and yet — he hasn’t actually spent a single bit of time with her in this chapter.

Professor McGonagall had left the thronelike chair in the middle of the staff table empty.

“Thronelike chair”.

You know, I kept calling that golden monstrosity a throne since Book One.

. . . but Snape’s place had been unceremoniously filled by Rufus Scrimgeour. Harry avoided his yellowish eyes as they scanned the Hall . . .

Come to think of it, Rufus has yellow eyes too like Madam Hooch. Does it mean anything or is it just because of “fantasy”?

Among Scrimgeour’s entourage Harry spotted the red hair and horn-rimmed glasses of Percy Weasley. Ron gave no sign that he was aware of Percy, apart from stabbing pieces of kipper with unwonted venom.

You know, Ron, you really don’t need to be a little shit to your big brother who was actually proud of you.

Over at the Slytherin table Crabbe and Goyle were muttering together. Hulking boys though they were, they looked oddly lonely without the tall, pale figure of Malfoy between them, bossing them around.

Aw, poor Gregory and Vincent.

Well, not that they’re really characters.

He despised Malfoy still for his infatuation with the Dark Arts . . .

Oh my god Harry really is the dumbest fucking shit I’ve ever had the displeasure to read about.

Draco’s infatuation with the Dark Arts?

Draco’s?

You brainless fucking brat, how quickly did you forget your infatuation with the Dark Arts: sectumsempra, cruciatus, levicorpus, imperius, and I’m probably forgetting something!

But oh dear, Draco tried to use the cruciatus once and now he’s all infatuated and I just —

*chews on the books out of sheer frustration and irritation*

Harry Potters are just a massive narcissistic projection. That’s what they are.

Or how about Harry’s brief love affair with Tommy’s diary and how he calls him handsome every chance he gets so how about we talk about who really has the hots for the dark arts?

*is reduced to angry gibbering*

. . . but now the tiniest drop of pity mingled with his dislike.

Harry, you can take that pity and shove it up your arse and choke on it.

Where, Harry wondered, was Malfoy now, and what was Voldemort making him do under threat of killing him and his parents?

I don’t know if you recall this, Harry~ probably not considering your memory started going at thirteen~ but before his long overdue death, Dumbles promised Draco and his parents asylum? Are you by any chance planning to do something about that?

No?

It’d be too much work and require an actual plot?

Okay then.

Harry’s thoughts were interrupted by a nudge in the ribs from Ginny.

But Ginny is for sure his source of comfort even though Harry totally ignored her presence for several paragraphs to brood in his stupid thoughts.

. . . they found Madam Pince standing beside Filch, she in a thick black veil that fell to her knees, he in an ancient black suit and tie reeking of mothballs.

You know, is this supposed to be a callback to that one time Harry and Hermione joked about Argus and Pince being together even though before that there’d been nothing indicating it?

But hey, good for Argus. Give the man some love.

. . . Tonks, her hair miraculously returned to vividest pink, Remus Lupin, with whom she seemed to be holding hands . . .

. . . Tom, the landlord of the Leaky Cauldron . . .

Why?

Or is Rowling just making a list of characters she’s mentioned before?

Like, what is this? A royalty’s funeral?

. . . the hairy bass player from the wizarding group the Weird Sisters, Ernie Prang, driver of the Knight Bus, Madam Malkin, of the robe shop in Diagon Alley, and some people whom Harry merely knew by sight, such as the barman of the Hog’s Head and the witch who pushed the trolley on the Hogwarts Express.

Okay, like, can we just get to the end already? Because I don’t want to anymore.

The castle ghosts were there too, barely visible in the bright sunlight, discernible only when they moved, shimmering insubstantially in the gleaming air.

Oh my god.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny filed into seats at the end of a row beside the lake.

AND Ginny.

. . . with a great rush of affection for both of them, Harry saw Neville being helped into a seat by Luna.

Harry, why are you such a bizarre freak?

I mean, Harry does not have any sort of relationship with either of these characters. Aside from pitying Luna and laughing at Neville behind his back.

They alone of all the DA had responded to Hermione’s summons the night that Dumbledore had died . . .

Ah.

Okay. Now it makes sense.

. . . and Harry knew why: they were the ones who had missed the DA most … probably the ones who had checked their coins regularly in the hope that there would be another meeting …

Because they’re both completely friendless loners who would rather take the company of non-friends than be alone?

But hey, maybe now Luna and Neville can become friends.

By the way, Harry, riddle me this: who was it again who said that “what do we need the DA for now that Umbridge is gone”? Ring any bells?

. . . Harry next recognised Rita Skeeter, who, he was infuriated to see, had a notebook clutched in her red-taloned hand . . .

Hee, Rita! I’m rather fond of her; she also had such a beautiful way with words. “Obsolete dingbat”. *sighs happily*

. . . with a worse jolt of fury, Dolores Umbridge, an unconvincing expression of grief upon her toadlike face, a black velvet bow set atop her iron-coloured curls.

And hey, Dolores is here too! Hopefully to pay her disrespects.

At the sight of the centaur Firenze, who was standing like a sentinel near the water’s edge, she gave a start and scurried hastily into a seat a good distance away.

Okay. Good for you, Rowling. Terrific writing this is.

He wondered whether Scrimgeour or any of these important people were really sorry that Dumbledore was dead.

Oh my god, Harry.

‘In there,’ whispered Ginny in Harry’s ear.

True love.

And he saw them in the clear green sunlit water, inches below the surface, reminding him horribly of the Inferi; a chorus of merpeople singing in a strange language he did not understand, their pallid faces rippling, their purplish hair flowing all around them. The music made the hair on Harry’s neck stand up and yet it was not unpleasant. It spoke very clearly of loss and of despair. As he looked down into the wild faces of the singers he had the feeling that they, at least, were sorry for Dumbledore’s passing.

No seriously, just kill me already. It would be kinder than this.

Tears were falling thick and fast into both Ginny and Hermione’s laps.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE?

They’re worse sycophants than death eaters!

Dumbles was NOT the kind of character who earned this melodramatic reaction from everyone and their grandmothers.

Harry glanced at the back row to which Hagrid was heading and realised what was guiding him, for there, dressed in a jacket and trousers each the size of a small marquee, was the giant Grawp, his great ugly boulder-like head bowed, docile, almost human.

Oh my god.

Can I sue Rowling for attempted murder?

A little tufty-haired man in plain black robes had got to his feet and stood now in front of Dumbledore’s body.

Like… is he supposed to be the wizarding equivalent of a priest? Or is he a priest?

You know what funerary practice I would’ve preferred? Tossing Dumbles’ body for the wild animals.

‘Nobility of spirit’ … ‘intellectual contribution’ … ‘greatness of heart’ … it did not mean very much.

I know. I can with utmost honesty say that’s not my impression of Dumbles. At all.

It had little to do with Dumbledore as Harry had known him.

Because… you certainly knew that old creep so well, did you?

He suddenly remembered Dumbledore’s idea of a few words: ‘nitwit’, ‘oddment’, ‘blubber’ and ‘tweak’ . . .

Can you all just die already?

Also, when has Dumbles ever used any of those words?

‘Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!’

Oh right, it was this one single time of complete fake affectation.

I’m sure this is what death feels like.

Harry wondered where Dumbledore had learned Mermish. There was so much he had never asked him, so much he should have said …

And then, without warning, it swept over him, the dreadful truth, more completely and undeniably than it had until now. Dumbledore was dead, gone …

Well, you can go ask all of those really important and pertinent questions from his portrait if you’re so inclined.

Like, this fucking moron? Surely didn’t have this kind of reaction about Sirius, did he? And he even got over it in the summer.

. . . but he could not prevent hot tears spilling from his eyes . . .

I hope he dies of dehydration.

The centaurs had come to pay their respects, too.

*is reduced to gibberish*

# cause of death: extreme FRUSTRATION

It was important, Dumbledore said, to fight, and fight again, and keep fighting, for only then could evil be kept at bay, though never quite eradicated …

BECAUSE DUMBLES FOR SURE WAS PUTTING SO MUCH EFFORT INTO FIGHTING INSTEAD OF MAKING BRAINLESS BRATS DO IT ALL FOR HIM.

And Harry saw very clearly as he sat there under the hot sun how people who cared about him had stood in front of him one by one, his mother, his father, his godfather, and finally Dumbledore, all determined to protect him . . .

OH MY GOD, HARRY, DUMBLES DID NOT “PROTECT” YOU AT ANY POINT IN YOUR MISERABLE LIFE.

He could not let anybody else stand between him and Voldemort . . .

Because there’s nobody competent left, ha ha?

I mean, presumably competent.

Also~ “his mother was not here to die for him this time”.

. . . he must abandon for ever the illusion he ought to have lost at the age of one: that the shelter of a parent’s arms meant that nothing could hurt him.

How on earth did you even get that illusion?

I mean, all of his “parental” figures are either dead or they were absent before they were dead?

There was no waking from his nightmare, no comforting whisper in the dark that he was safe really, that it was all in his imagination; the last and greatest of his protectors had died and he was more alone than he had ever been before.

Harry, I know you can’t help it and I guess you have… *with extreme reluctance* …a reason this time, but seriously? Can we get over this self-pity party already?

Then several people screamed. Bright, white flames had erupted around Dumbledore’s body and the table upon which it lay: higher and higher they rose, obscuring the body. White smoke spiralled into the air and made strange shapes: Harry thought, for one heart-stopping moment, that he saw a phoenix fly joyfully into the blue, but next second the fire had vanished. In its place was a white marble tomb, encasing Dumbledore’s body and the table on which he had rested.

Okay?

. . . but Ginny was no longer crying. She met Harry’s gaze with the same hard, blazing look that he had seen when she had hugged him after winning the Quidditch Cup in his absence, and he knew that at that moment they understood each other perfectly, and that when he told her what he was going to do now, she would not say ‘Be careful’, or ‘Don’t do it’, but accept his decision, because she would not have expected anything less of him.

Harry, like… stop making assumptions about other people because you’re so consistently wrong.

‘Ginny, listen …’ he said very quietly, as the buzz of conversation grew louder around them and people began to get to their feet. ‘I can’t be involved with you any more. We’ve got to stop seeing each other. We can’t be together.’

And why is that exactly?

I mean, Ginny was Harry’s girlfriend? She’s the sister of Harry’s best friend? She’s a blood traitor? It’s not like she’s in any less danger just because Harry dumped her arse before they were even really together?

NOT TO MENTION. He goes right back into spending time with her at the beginning of the next book. So what the fuck even?

She said, with an oddly twisted smile, ‘It’s for some stupid, noble reason, isn’t it?’

Drop the ‘noble’ and you got it right.

‘It’s been like … like something out of someone else’s life, these last few weeks with you,’ said Harry. ‘But I can’t … we can’t … I’ve got things to do alone now.’

WITH RON AND HERMIONE, he said, in very small print.

How quickly that ‘AND Ginny’ was dropped.

And I almost got attached.

‘Voldemort uses people his enemies are close to. He’s already used you as bait once, and that was just because you’re my best friend’s sister. Think how much danger you’ll be in if we keep this up. He’ll know, he’ll find out. He’ll try and get to me through you.’

And he’s not going to do that anyway… why? Like you said, you brainless little grasshopper, Tommy already used her once when she was nothing to you? Why wouldn’t he do the same now?

Well, I mean… maybe he’s miraculously learned from previous fuck-ups?

‘What if I don’t care?’ said Ginny fiercely.

I DON’T CARE EITHER. GO FOR IT, GINNY. And rather date your brother while you’re at it~.

‘I care,’ said Harry. ‘How do you think I’d feel if this was your funeral … and it was my fault …’

Well, I don’t know — about the same you felt about Cedric, Sirius and Dumbles? Which consisted of a lot of melodramatic brooding but not much else?

‘I never really gave up on you,’ she said. ‘Not really. I always hoped … Hermione told me to get on with life, maybe go out with some other people, relax a bit around you, because I never used to be able to talk if you were in the room, remember? And she thought you might take a bit more notice if I was a bit more – myself.’

So… like… obnoxious belligerent attention hog who does impressions like Draco Malfoy?

And Ginny, Ginny, you deserve better than Harry bloody Potter. Please, value yourself a bit more.

‘Smart girl, that Hermione,’ said Harry, trying to smile. ‘I just wish I’d asked you sooner. We could’ve had ages … months … years maybe …’

Harry, you barely noticed she exists before this book. And ‘years’? You were gonna date her when she was eleven? Or ten?

‘But you’ve been too busy saving the wizarding world,’ said Ginny, half-laughing.

‘I knew you wouldn’t be happy unless you were hunting Voldemort. Maybe that’s why I like you so much.’

So… because you don’t have to actually deal with him?

Scrimgeour looked annoyed but, as before, hastily modified his expression to one of sorrowful understanding.

He’s like the worst politician ever.

‘I know that you were very close to Dumbledore. I think you may have been his favourite ever pupil. The bond between the two of you –’

No, he was not.

‘Somebody Stupefied a Death Eater on top of the Tower after Dumbledore died.’

No! The nameless fourth death eater!

‘He will only be gone from the school when none here are loyal to him,’ said Harry, smiling in spite of himself.

Harry, just… go drown yourself in the lake so I don’t have to suffer you anymore.

‘Voldemort wants to kill me himself and Aurors won’t stop him. So thanks for the offer, but no thanks.’

Like he’s managed so splendidly so far…?

‘I see you are –’

A stupid shit. *sotto voce*

‘Dumbledore’s man through and through,’ said Harry. ‘That’s right.’

As I said.

Ron seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, then he said loudly to Hermione, ‘Look, let me go back and hit Percy!’

Ron, just… go drown yourself in the lake too.

‘I thought I might go back to Godric’s Hollow,’ Harry muttered. He had had the idea in his head ever since the night of Dumbledore’s death. ‘For me, it started there, all of it. I’ve just got a feeling I need to go there.’

“I’ve just got a feeling”.

my fancy artistic rendition

‘And I can visit my parents’ graves, I’d like that.’

Well, would you look at that? After six full books, he’s finally thought of visiting his parents’ graves. Will the wonders ever cease.

‘Then I’ve got to track down the rest of the Horcruxes, haven’t I?’ said Harry, his eyes upon Dumbledore’s white tomb, reflected in the water on the other side of the lake. ‘That’s what he wanted me to do, that’s why he told me all about them.’

So in other words, Dumbles still leaves his shite on you and you don’t even question it?

‘I’ve got to find them and destroy them and then I’ve got to go after the seventh bit of Voldemort’s soul, the bit that’s still in his body, and I’m the one who’s going to kill him.’

Ha!

‘And if I meet Severus Snape along the way,’ he added, ‘so much the better for me, so much the worse for him.’

Well, he certainly thinks highly of his own abilities.

‘We’ll be there, Harry,’ said Ron.

‘What?’

‘At your aunt and uncle’s house,’ said Ron.

And would you look at that too? After six years, Ron has finally called the Dursleys Harry’s aunt and uncle.

His hand closed automatically around the fake Horcrux, but in spite of everything, in spite of the dark and twisting path he saw stretching ahead for himself, in spite of the final meeting with Voldemort he knew must come, whether in a month, in a year, or in ten, he felt his heart lift at the thought that there was still one last golden day of peace left to enjoy with Ron and Hermione.

And would you look at that? We finally end one of these books on a happy non-psychopathic note.

Harry’s spell count so far: twenty-seven.

‘Harry — you’re a great wizard, you know.’

AND VICTORY!

I HAVE CONQUERED!

And death to these books.

Chapter Twenty-nine – The Phoenix Lament

Why are eyeglasses so expensive?

No wonder the Dursleys resent Harry.

Okay, jokes aside.

I have this bad habit, I guess, that when a point is very clear to me I kind of don’t explain it to other people. So I shorthand things. Of course I will explain things if someone genuinely asks but otherwise I’m of the same opinion as Confucius: if I say one thing and someone can’t see its relevance to what I haven’t said then that’s on them, not me.

Tell such a man something and he can see its relevance to what he has not been told.

If one learns from others but does not think, one will be bewildered. If, on the other hand, one thinks but does not learn from others, one will be in peril.

When he is told one thing he understands ten. When I am told one thing I understand only two.

— Confucius: Analects

That said!

Let’s talk about the Dursleys for a bit because I like them.

From the very beginning, Rowling presented the Dursleys as so unlikeable, fat, dumb, bigoted and muggle that very few people would see anything from their point of view. Which is more of a flaw in these people’s character than the Dursleys.

I don’t remember the exact wording but someone said about The Last of Us 2 that it was made by people for people who could never imagine that they might be considered evil. And that fits Harry Potters too.

You see, the Dursleys did not ask for Harry. They did not want Harry. They were threatened to take Harry in and they were threatened to keep taking Harry in. They were going to give him away and Dumbles forced them to keep him. Harry’s sheer presence puts the Dursleys in danger. They were forced to endanger themselves and their only child to keep a brat they never wanted safe. All wizarding children have unpredictable, oftentimes violent magic when they’re kids and the Dursleys have absolutely no defences against that. Harry’s parents were blown up and murdered because a madman wanted to murder him a lot; a madman who has fanatic followers. And never did they apparently deserve any compensation for any of this.

Now, I’m not saying that the Dursleys’ emotional neglect or abuse was justified but I am saying it’s understandable why they would resent Harry.

Not to mention that Harry was dumped on the Dursleys precisely so he’d be neglected the “fame wouldn’t get into his head” and his “fame” is directly tied to magic and the wizarding world so it was a bit rich of Hagrid to yell at them for not telling him about it. Moreover, what exactly would Harry have gained from learning that his parents were killed because a madman wanted to murder him a lot? How is it a flaw that the Dursleys didn’t tell him that when he was a kid and instead told him his parents died in a car crash? Hell, Dumbles never told Harry anything relevant to his own life and well-being even when the brat directly asked him. Instead, all he did was either twinkle at him or gaslight Harry into thinking that he did everything out of love.

And people are going to hate the Dursleys for the same? Please.

Also, this:

‘Coward, did you call me, Potter?’ shouted Snape. ‘Your father would never attack me unless it was four on one, what would you call him, I wonder?’

Like, you do not write something like this without a hint of self-awareness, right? And yet absolutely nothing came out of it. Severus never got any closure or retribution for what he went through; instead everyone inside and outside of these books thinks that James Potter is the most wunderfull thing who ever wundered. After his equally and more wunderfull rotten seed, of course.

These books are utterly baffling.

Harry has all the rage fits when someone calls his dad exactly what he was: an unemployed loser and a psychopathic bully. And even though Harry is an unreliable narrator, nothing really indicates that the reader shouldn’t agree with him on everything.

I mean… Rowling puts the truth directly in the mouths of characters the reader is supposed to hate.

He did not want to leave Dumbledore’s side, he did not want to move anywhere.

Harry really is a complete moron.

I guess I could relate if Dumbles and Harry had actually earned this kind of relationship. As it is, Dumbles was just this old creep who dictated Harry’s entire life and groomed him to die.

Then another voice said, ‘Harry, come on.’

A much smaller and warmer hand had enclosed his and was pulling him upwards. He obeyed its pressure without really thinking about it. Only as he walked blindly back through the crowd did he realise, from a trace of flowery scent on the air, that it was Ginny who was leading him back into the castle.

He only realises from the scent that it’s Ginny. After she’s, you know, spent the past how many hours battling death eaters, sweating and getting dirty.

I don’t even know if I should laugh or feel sorry for Ginny.

But whatever. True love.

‘It’s McGonagall’s orders,’ said Ginny. ‘Everyone’s up there, Ron and Hermione and Lupin and everyone –’

Aw, she said Ron’s name first.

Hey, I take my Ron/Ginny proofs where I can find them, ha ha.

‘And a Death Eater’s dead, he got hit by a Killing Curse the huge blond one was firing off everywhere – Harry, if we hadn’t had your Felix potion, I think we’d all have been killed, but everything seemed to just miss us –’

*feels a sudden urge to claw down a wall*

Okay, no nope no, I’m going to finish this book even if it kills me. And it really feels like it might.

Ron, Hermione, Luna, Tonks and Lupin were gathered around another bed near the far end of the ward.

So… does this mean that basically the only order members present at the “battle” were Nymphadora and Lupin?

So… in other words, the death eaters were mostly battling brats after all?

Well! Isn’t it just so mighty lucky that they had a luck potion then? And isn’t it just such a mighty coincidence that the luck potion won’t be seen or mentioned after this book?

Oh my god I still want to claw down walls.

Harry looked over Hermione’s shoulder and saw an unrecognisable face lying on Bill’s pillow, so badly slashed and ripped that he looked grotesque.

That does sound bad. But not to worry! Bill will just come out of it even more cool than he already is.

‘Dumbledore might know something that’d work, though,’ Ron said. ‘Where is he? Bill fought those maniacs on Dumbledore’s orders, Dumbledore owes him, he can’t leave him in this state –’

*raises eyebrows*

Oh, did he now?

‘Ron – Dumbledore’s dead,’ said Ginny.

‘No!’ Lupin looked wildly from Ginny to Harry, as though hoping the latter might contradict her, but when Harry did not, Lupin collapsed into a chair beside Bill’s bed, his hands over his face.

Ha ha ha!

Oh, sorry — I guess it was supposed to be a serious moment.

Madam Pomfrey burst into tears. Nobody paid her any attention except Ginny, who whispered, ‘Shh! Listen!’

Yes, Pomfrey. No time for untimely bursts of emotion when the Boy Wonder is talking!

Somewhere out in the darkness, a phoenix was singing in a way Harry had never heard before: a stricken lament of terrible beauty.

Oh please, can you ham it in a little more?

No wait, I take that back. This is Rowling, she can absolutely ham it in more.

And Harry felt, as he had felt about phoenix song before, that the music was inside him, not without: it was his own grief turned magically to song that echoed across the grounds and through the castle windows.

Oh sorry, I got distracted by a moment of extreme revulsion.

How long they all stood there, listening, he did not know, nor why it seemed to ease their pain a little to listen to the sound of their mourning, but it felt like a long time later . . .

Like all the rest, she bore marks of the recent battle: there were grazes on her face and her robes were ripped.

Aw, she has grazes and her clothes are ripped. The poor thing.

‘Snape was a highly accomplished Occlumens,’ said Lupin, his voice uncharacteristically harsh. ‘We always knew that.’

Lupin, seriously. You do not. Get to say a fucking word.

Not a word, you hear me?

‘I know,’ said Harry, and they all turned to stare at him. ‘Snape passed Voldemort the information that made Voldemort hunt down my mum and dad. Then Snape told Dumbledore he hadn’t realised what he was doing, he was really sorry he’d done it, sorry that they were dead.’

‘And Dumbledore believed that?’ said Lupin incredulously. ‘Dumbledore believed Snape was sorry James was dead? Snape hated James …’

‘And he didn’t think my mother was worth a damn, either,’ said Harry, ‘because she was Muggle-born … “Mudblood”, he called her …’

Oh my god you’re all so fucking stupid, I can’t bear it.

ALSO! Since Dumbles got off telling sensitive, private information about Neville, wouldn’t it have behooved him to tell Harry that, you know, actually Severus and your mum were friends?

Ah, but what am I asking, Dumbles telling pertinent information that might benefit them to others.

It’s too bad that old creep can’t die a second time.

‘This is all my fault,’ said Professor McGonagall suddenly. She looked disorientated, twisting her wet handkerchief in her hands. ‘My fault. I sent Filius to fetch Snape tonight, I actually sent for him to come and help us! If I hadn’t alerted Snape to what was going on, he might never have joined forces with the Death Eaters. I don’t think he knew they were there before Filius told him, I don’t think he knew they were coming.’

Soooo… from Severus’ room or from somewhere else?

‘So when he arrived at the fight, he joined in on the Death Eaters’ side?’ asked Harry, who wanted every detail of Snape’s duplicity and infamy, feverishly collecting more reasons to hate him, to swear vengeance.

You know, Harry, your sentiments would be more understandable if you hadn’t been a complete tool since Book One and if I didn’t know that you’re utterly wrong about Severus. Again.

As it is, I’m just thinking that this kid is an insufferable freak like his dad.

‘I don’t know exactly how it happened,’ said Professor McGonagall distractedly. ‘It’s all so confusing … Dumbledore had told us that he would be leaving the school for a few hours and that we were to patrol the corridors just in case …’

That old creep seriously arranged everything even in this book.

‘We knew nobody could fly in.’

Book One and Book Two would like to disagree with you~.

‘I messed up, Harry,’ said Ron bleakly. ‘We did like you told us: we checked the Marauder’s Map and we couldn’t see Malfoy on it, so we thought he must be in the Room of Requirement, so me, Ginny and Neville went to keep watch on it … but Malfoy got past us.’

You know, it’s actually kind of amazing that Draco wasn’t foiled by the luck potion.

‘He came out of the Room about an hour after we started keeping watch,’ said Ginny. ‘He was on his own, clutching that awful shrivelled arm –’

‘His Hand of Glory,’ said Ron. ‘Gives light only to the holder, remember?’

Hee, Lucius that big softy ended up buying it for his kid anyway. ♡ They’re too precious for this awful world.

‘Anyway,’ Ginny went on, ‘he must have been checking whether the coast was clear to let the Death Eaters out, because the moment he saw us he threw something into the air and it all went pitch black –’

‘– Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder,’ said Ron bitterly. ‘Fred and George’s. I’m going to be having a word with them about who they let buy their products.’

I find it absolutely hilarious that these morons, however, were foiled by their own side’s products. More specifically the Sociopathic Twins.

‘Obviously Malfoy could see because of that Hand thing and was guiding them, but we didn’t dare use any curses or anything in case we hit each other, and by the time we’d reached a corridor that was light, they’d gone.’

Okay, wait. So Draco was the only person who could see anything? Because if he wasn’t and the hand of glory was also giving light to the people he was guiding then the question is why any of these brats are still alive? Or unharmed? Because you’re telling me that the death eaters wouldn’t totally have taken the opportunity to at least maim these kids?

Also~ why were the death eaters at school again? I mean, aside from Rowling wanting to make a spectacle? Because… like… Draco is the one who was supposed to kill Dumbles. Aaaand he really didn’t need backup for that because all he needed was a trap and the element of surprise — which he got with or without the death eaters — and then he could’ve just shoved the old creep off the tower? And he probably could’ve escaped a lot easier too if he hadn’t, you know, alerted half the school with “troops” that he didn’t need and weren’t of any use anyway?

And I know the “real” reason is that Draco didn’t actually have it in him to murder anyone but again, it’s not like he could’ve left that to the other death eaters anyway. Well, aside from Severus.

‘Luckily,’ said Lupin hoarsely . . .

Yeah.

“Luckily”.

‘One of them, Gibbon, broke away and headed up the Tower stairs –’

‘To set off the Mark?’ asked Harry.

‘He must have done, yes, they must have arranged that before they left the Room of Requirement,’ said Lupin. ‘But I don’t think Gibbon liked the idea of waiting up there alone for Dumbledore, because he came running back downstairs to rejoin the fight and was hit by a Killing Curse that just missed me.’

Oh, so Gibbon wasn’t that one death eater I rather liked.

And you know, since death eaters were supposed to be, like, this secret society of masked fellows~ how come everyone and their grandmothers knows who they are?

‘So if Ron was watching the Room of Requirement with Ginny and Neville,’ said Harry, turning to Hermione . . .

I just bet it was Ginny who insisted on going with Ron. It certainly wasn’t Ron telling his baby sister to come with him.

‘I was so stupid, Harry!’ said Hermione in a high-pitched whisper.

It’s okay, Hermione. I’ve known you’re stupid since Book One.

‘It’s not your fault,’ said Lupin firmly. ‘Hermione, had you not obeyed Snape and got out of the way, he would probably have killed you and Luna.’

Lupin.

Shut the fuck up.

I mean it.

‘He must have known a spell we didn’t,’ whispered McGonagall. ‘After all – he was the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher …’

For, like, a year?

Ha ha ha! Sometimes these characters are so unintentionally hilarious.

‘– and then Snape and the boy emerged out of the dust –’

The “boy’s” name is Draco Malfoy, Lupin. I’m sure you know since you taught him for a year.

. . . Fleur just behind them, her beautiful face terrified.

Well, at least even in the midst of his grief and anger Harry still has the wherewithal to remind us that Fleur is beautiful. Something he still hasn’t done for Ginny.

That’ll never stop being funny.

‘You said Greyback attacked him?’ Mr Weasley asked Professor McGonagall distractedly. ‘But he hadn’t transformed? So what does that mean? What will happen to Bill?’

But, Arthur, I thought you said:

‘They’ve been talking to him this morning, the Healers, you know, trying to persuade him he’ll be able to lead an almost normal life. I said to him – didn’t mention names, of course – but I said I knew a werewolf personally, very nice man, who finds the condition quite easy to manage.’

Or is it a totally different thing now that it affects you personally?

Mrs Weasley bent over her son and pressed her lips to his bloody forehead.

Mrs Weasley took the nasty-smelling ointment from Madam Pomfrey and began dabbing at Bill’s wounds.

You know, I understand her sentiments but I just really don’t think her behaviour is exactly sanitary.

As Professor McGonagall nodded, Harry felt Ginny move beside him and looked at her. Her slightly narrowed eyes were fixed upon Fleur, who was gazing down at Bill with a frozen expression on her face.

Ginny. You’re the complete cow and just because she was jealous of Ron.

. . . but Mrs Weasley had eyes only for her eldest son; she began to sob, tears falling on to Bill’s mutilated face.

His wounds.

Sanitation.

Someone, please!

‘Of course, it doesn’t matter how he looks … it’s not r – really important … but he was a very handsome little b – boy … always very handsome … and he was g – going to be married!’

I mean… I genuinely don’t like most of the Weasleys?

‘And what do you mean by zat?’ said Fleur suddenly and loudly. ‘What do you mean, ’e was going to be married?’

Mrs Weasley raised her tear-stained face, looking startled.

‘Well – only that –’

‘You theenk Bill will not wish to marry me any more?’ demanded Fleur. ‘You theenk, because of these bites, he will not love me?’

‘No, that’s not what I –’

‘Because ’e will!’ said Fleur, drawing herself up to her full height and throwing back her long mane of silver hair. ‘It would take more zan a werewolf to stop Bill loving me!’

‘Well, yes, I’m sure,’ said Mrs Weasley, ‘but I thought perhaps – given how – how he –’

‘You thought I would not weesh to marry him? Or per’aps, you ’oped?’ said Fleur, her nostrils flaring. ‘What do I care how ’e looks? I am good-looking enough for both of us, I theenk! All these scars show is zat my husband is brave! And I shall do zat!’ she added fiercely, pushing Mrs Weasley aside and snatching the ointment from her.

Yes! You tell her off, Fleur! And slap her once while you’re at it!

And then – Harry did not quite see how it happened – both women were crying and hugging each other.

Okay. Whatever.

Let’s just leave them to it.

‘You see!’ said a strained voice. Tonks was glaring at Lupin. ‘She still wants to marry him, even though he’s been bitten! She doesn’t care!’

Oh my god.

Can we just stop already?

I can’t even tell if this complete mood whiplash from sombre to a romantic farce is on purpose or if this is happening because Rowling hates having dignified characters.

‘But I don’t care either, I don’t care!’ said Tonks, seizing the front of Lupin’s robes and shaking them.

Well, Nymphadora, I think it would help your case if you were acting less like a child about it?

And the meaning of Tonks’s Patronus and her mouse-coloured hair, and the reason she had come running to find Dumbledore when she had heard a rumour someone had been attacked by Greyback, all suddenly became clear to Harry; it had not been Sirius that Tonks had fallen in love with after all …

What a plot twist! *monotone*

And so totally relevant and important to anything!

If I end up dying re-reading the books just know the reason was this:

‘And I’ve told you a million times,’ said Lupin, refusing to meet her eyes, staring at the floor, ‘that I am too old for you, too poor … too dangerous …’

‘This is … not the moment to discuss it,’ said Lupin, avoiding everybody’s eyes as he looked around distractedly. ‘Dumbledore is dead …’

And your reaction to it was extremely funny but boy! was it forgotten fast.

‘Dumbledore would have been happier than anybody to think that there was a little more love in the world,’ said Professor McGonagall curtly . . .

Hate is not the problem and love is not the solution.

And I hardly care about anything that Dumbles thinks.

. . . just as the hospital doors opened again and Hagrid walked in.

The little of his face that was not obscured by hair or beard was soaking and swollen; he was shaking with tears, a vast spotted handkerchief in his hand.

And oh my god, now there’s this fucking fool on top of everything else.

Harry stood up, murmured, ‘See you in a bit,’ to Ron, Hermione and Ginny . . .

AND Ginny. She’s certainly moving up in the world of Harry Potter~.

It was several minutes before Harry became aware that they were not heading for Professor McGonagall’s office, but for Dumbledore’s, and another few seconds before he realised that, of course, she had been Deputy Headmistress … apparently she was now Headmistress … so the room behind the gargoyle was now hers …

I mean, I don’t have any idea about school office politics or hierarchy but does it really work like this?

He did not know what he had expected: that the room would be draped in black, perhaps, or even that Dumbledore’s body might be lying there.

Harry.

Just shut up.

I’m getting sick of reading what little we get out of your thoughts.

And you know what’s the funniest and by funniest I mean the saddest thing about this? This is almost exactly how fandom presents Draco. Like, the fandom literally took all of Harry’s worst traits and projected them on Draco.

And a new portrait had joined the ranks of the dead headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts … Dumbledore was slumbering in a golden frame over the desk, his half-moon spectacles perched upon his crooked nose, looking peaceful and untroubled.

AND I ALMOST FELT HIS ABSENCE.

BUT DEATH IS, LIKE, TOTALLY IRREVERSIBLE IN THIS GARBAGE UNIVERSE OF ROWLING’S IMAGINATION.

You know who else had live paintings? Joseph Curwen in The Case of Charles Dexter Ward by Lovecraft. You know what he did with it? Used it to possess his descendant and come back to life. But of course you don’t know that because Lovecraft’s stories are actually good. Well, mostly.

Also~ since this is as good a time as any to bring this up: so, Rowling positions that killing is the worst thing ever but death isn’t the worst thing ever. Actual societies that didn’t think that death is the worst thing ever also didn’t consider killing to be a big deal. In other words, that’s another Harry Potter self-contradiction for you because Rowling is such a tremendously good fucking author.

Never mind that this world has ghosts and living paintings and philosopher’s stones and minor characters who randomly live up to three hundred and what else I’m not remembering, and it’s like… who the fuck cares about the theme of “death” in a world like this? Not to mention! that in Book Seven we get actual confirmation of an afterlife so it’s just… *chews on the books out of sheer frustration and irritation*

‘Harry,’ she said, ‘I would like to know what you and Professor Dumbledore were doing this evening when you left the school.’

Why not ask the portrait when it’s right there?

‘Harry, it might be important,’ said Professor McGonagall.

‘It is,’ said Harry, ‘very, but he didn’t want me to tell anyone.’

Oh well, if Dumbles wanted it.

Harry, use that useless raisin you call a brain and ask yourself this, honestly, when has Dumbles secrecy ever benefited anyone?

But of course you won’t ask that because you’re an utterly brainless fucking moron. Why Dumbles just wasn’t the main character since Harry is nothing but his brainless puppet anyway is beyond me.

‘I don’t think so,’ said Harry, shrugging. ‘Professor Dumbledore never told me to stop following his orders if he died.’

Oh my god.

Like, how are these people not more fanatical than death eaters?

‘Snape!’ ejaculated Slughorn, who looked the most shaken, pale and sweating. ‘Snape! I taught him! I thought I knew him!’

Well, you also thought Tommy was the hottest adolescent ever and you called Harry a “good boy” so… shows what you know?

‘I want to talk about what happens to Hogwarts before he gets here,’ she said quickly. ‘Personally, I am not convinced that the school should reopen next year. The death of the Headmaster at the hands of one of our colleagues is a terrible stain upon Hogwarts’ history. It is horrible.’

And that’s a good enough reason to close down the entire school but not when the kids are endangered or murdered?

Okay then.

‘I am sure Dumbledore would have wanted the school to remain open,’ said Professor Sprout. ‘I feel that if a single pupil wants to come, then the school ought to remain open for that pupil.’

Oh well, if Dumbles wants it.

I should’ve known they were going to double down on this after that old creep’s death.

‘But will we have a single pupil after this?’ said Slughorn . . .

If you kept all of your pupils after Books One, Two, Three, Four and Five, who’s going to care about Dumbles getting murdered on the school grounds?

‘Parents will want to keep their children at home and I can’t say I blame them. Personally, I don’t think we’re in more danger at Hogwarts than we are anywhere else, but you can’t expect mothers to think like that. They’ll want to keep their families together, it’s only natural.’

Tommy and Quirrell.
Fluffy.
The Forbidden Forest.
Centaurs.
Giant venomous man-eating spiders.
Tommy and the diary.
Petrified students (and a cat and a ghost).
Giant poisonous petrifying snakes.
Dementors.
Sirius.
Hagrid.
Fake-Moody.
Dolores.
Sybill.
Dumbles himself.
Triwizard tournament of stupidity and child murder.
Dragons.

Am I forgetting something?

Oh, Harry’s proclivity for crucio and sectumsempra.

Well, of course that’s only against characters who deserve it.

‘I agree,’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘And in any case, it is not true to say that Dumbledore never envisaged a situation in which Hogwarts might close. When the Chamber of Secrets reopened he considered the closure of the school – and I must say that Professor Dumbledore’s murder is more disturbing to me than the idea of Slytherin’s monster living undetected in the bowels of the castle …’

And just like that! I had enough of Minerva too. She goes on to the list of murderable characters.

‘Hagrid, you haven’t said anything,’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘What are your views, ought Hogwarts to remain open?’

Why do you care about Hagrid’s views?

‘Professor Dumbledore always valued your views,’ said Professor McGonagall kindly, ‘and so do I.’

Oh my god.

And no you don’t, you little liar, you~. In your very first scene you asked “ought we to trust Hagrid?”

‘Well, I’m stayin’,’ said Hagrid, fat tears still leaking out of the corners of his eyes and trickling down into his tangled beard. ‘It’s me home, it’s bin me home since I was thirteen. An’ if there’s kids who wan’ me ter teach ’em, I’ll do it.’

Soooo… in other words, you might as well close the school then?

‘I – I know that it was Dumbledore’s wish to be laid to rest here, at Hogwarts –’

Why?

Like, what’s up with this school?

Who would even want their previous headmaster’s grave right on the school grounds and why is Dumbles the only one who gets this “privilege”?

‘Then that’s what’ll happen, isn’t it?’ said Harry fiercely.

Oh my god, Harry, just shut the fuck up already.

‘If the Ministry thinks it appropriate,’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘No other headmaster or headmistress has ever been –’

‘No other headmaster or headmistress ever gave more to this school,’ growled Hagrid.

Give me a list of things Dumbles has demonstrably done for the school and then we’ll talk.

Also! This is the same dude who said:

‘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.’

So honestly, fuck both of these characters.

‘And in that case,’ said Harry, ‘you shouldn’t send the students home until the funeral’s over. They’ll want to say –’

OH MY GOD HOW ABOUT YOU STOP SPEAKING FOR EVERYONE, HARRY?

YOU WEREN’T CLOSE TO DUMBLES. AT FUCKING ALL. AND THE REST OF THESE BRATS WERE EVEN LESS CLOSE TO DUMBLES.

‘Well said,’ squeaked Professor Flitwick. ‘Well said indeed! Our students should pay tribute, it is fitting.’

‘Is it true?’ whispered the Fat Lady as he approached her. ‘Is it really true? Dumbledore – dead?’

‘Yes,’ said Harry.

She let out a wail and, without waiting for the password, swung forwards to admit him.

Well, why not go visit his portrait since it’s already up?

And he knew, without knowing how he knew it, that the phoenix had gone, had left Hogwarts for good, just as Dumbledore had left the school, had left the world … had left Harry.

You know, this brat deserves everything he’s got and gets.

Harry’s spell count so far: twenty-seven.

‘Harry — you’re a great wizard, you know.’

JUST ONE MORE CHAPTER AND THEN I’M DONE.

Chapter Twenty-eight – Flight of the Prince

That title, ha ha.

Anyway, I have a few things again.

I forgot to mention this in the previous chapter’s prelude but aside from calling Yule christmas and the BC sign above Ollivander’s shop, there’s just no indication that wizards — aka purebloods — have any or their own religion either. Even the central building of the only street of their cultural hub is a bank (or at least in the video games it is) and that is actually owned by the goblins, not wizards. And instead of that meaning anything, it’s just there — like everything else in this stupid mess of books.

The second thing is that in the previous chapter Dumbles basically called Draco innocent, the implication being that he’s innocent so long as he hasn’t killed anyone. Which is utterly ridiculous and stupid, especially in the context of Harry Potter, but let’s put that aside for the moment.

You know what makes that implication very funny? Harry, our titular Boy Wonder, had a direct albeit unwitting “self-defence” hand in Quirrell’s untimely expiration. In other words, Harry has killed someone no matter how unwittingly in self-defence. I mean, Quirrell was basically boiling himself to death on Harry. And I find this worse than using an avada kedavra to off someone but I’m weird like that.

The third thing is that I kept calling the “guard” and “order” brats in the previous chapter because I was mostly thinking of “Dumbledore’s army”, not the “order of phoenix”. To be fair to myself, I’d mostly totally forgotten the order is even a thing because it’s been so utterly nonexistent in this book and it’s not like they did much even in the previous book where they were an actual thing.

So that was my bad.

But it’s absolutely hilarious how Harry had all the shitfits about not being able to join the order in Book Five and then this book is all “order? what order?” or “what would we need the defence against the arts club for anymore?”

Harry is.

He’s honestly such an insufferable moron.

And then he actually has the gall to command the “Dumbledore’s Army” when he was the one who was all “What would we need the Dumbledore’s Army for now that Umbridge’s gone?”

And you know, let’s talk about Severus and the glorious avada kedavra that offed Dumbles some more, shall we?

So, these stellar books present that killing is the worst thing you can do, it’s directly tied to the loss of innocence and soul — and yet death is not the worst thing that can happen but whatever. Avada kedavra, the killing curse, is an unforgivable even though it’s a less painful way to go than, say, suffocating to death on your own tongue or an entrail-expelling curse or getting the soul sucked out of you but hey, what do I know? I’m not a billionaire author.

I have brought this up before — probably in a comment — but we don’t actually know what Severus’ death eater life entailed. For all we know, he could’ve been one just in name or he could’ve been killing kids for fun or anything in between. But considering how Severus is, like, the least violent person in these books and a big softy in spite of his heaping contempt for people, I’d say it’s safe to assume that Severus didn’t actually do much as a death eater.

Hence, Dumbles was probably his first kill.

In other words~

killing is the worst thing you can do
Severus is forced to kill Dumbles

Severus is forced to lose his own innocence and stain his soul because Dumbles ordered him to. And he probably did that before Narcissa came knocking on Severus’ door.

Rowling probably didn’t think that one through but as far as I’m concerned Rowling hasn’t thought a single thing in these books through.

And then that woman and Harry actually conjoin Severus’ name with Dumbles’ in that brat.

*checks the chapter list*

How are there still three chapters left? I swear I’ve been re-reading this book forever and it’s still not ending.

*is dead*

You know what, let’s just try to finish this book in one go — or at least in the next two days, ha ha.

He seized Malfoy by the scruff of the neck and forced him through the door ahead of the rest . . .

Well, Draco almost grew up. And then he was relegated to a misbehaving pet.

. . . Greyback and the squat brother and sister followed, the latter both panting excitedly. As they vanished through the door . . .

Hey!

Where’s the nameless fourth death eater!

I rather liked him; he seemed like an adult and serious even if he was working for Tommy.

Harry, you arse. Why can’t you pay attention to the characters I like?

. . . Harry realised he could move again; what was now holding him paralysed against the wall was not magic, but horror and shock.

Hee. Really? Because I’m absolutely gleeful every time I remember that Dumbles is dead. ♡

He threw the Invisibility Cloak aside as the brutal-faced Death Eater, last to leave the Tower top, was disappearing through the door.

‘Petrificus Totalus!’

The Death Eater buckled as though hit in the back with something solid, and fell to the ground, rigid as a waxwork, but he had barely hit the floor when Harry was clambering over him and running down the darkened staircase.

Noooo, of course it had to be the only death eater I rather liked.

Terror tore at Harry’s heart … he had to get to Dumbledore and he had to catch Snape … somehow the two things were linked … he could reverse what had happened if he had them both together … Dumbledore could not have died …

*giggles*

Oh, Harry. You needn’t remind me that the old creep is dead.

. . . he heard the hated voice shout, ‘It’s over, time to go!’ and saw Snape disappearing round the corner at the far end of the corridor; he and Malfoy seemed to have forced their way through the fight unscathed.

Severus seems like a competent, serious adult too.

Harry now saw red hair flying like flames in front of him: Ginny was locked in combat with the lumpy Death Eater, Amycus, who was throwing hex after hex at her while she dodged them: Amycus was giggling, enjoying the sport: ‘Crucio – Crucio – you can’t dance for ever, pretty –’

‘Impedimenta!’ yelled Harry.

His jinx hit Amycus in the chest: he gave a piglike squeal of pain, was lifted off his feet and slammed into the opposite wall, slid down it and fell out of sight behind Ron, Professor McGonagall and Lupin, each of whom was battling a separate Death Eater . . .

You know… somehow these “action scenes” pain my soul.

So let’s just think that Dumbles is finally dead to cheer myself up.

Also, I genuinely despise this habit that terrible writers have of using even villains to remind people that a particular character is pretty. On the other hand, I don’t think Harry has yet even once described Ginny as pretty so that’s hilarious.

Moreover… how do you dodge a spell? Like, Harry Potter spells seem to be more about intention than any sort of mental fortitude or discipline. So you’d think that such spells would home in on a target, right?

Ah, but there’s that word again: ‘think’.

Oh well.

. . . beyond them, Harry saw Tonks fighting an enormous blond wizard who was sending curses flying in all directions, so that they ricocheted off the walls around them, cracking stone, shattering the nearest window –

Okay?

‘Harry, where did you come from?’ Ginny cried, but there was no time to answer her.

Ha ha ha!

The story of Ginny’s life.

. . . was it possible that he had already entered the Cabinet in the Room of Requirement, or had the Order made steps to secure it, to prevent the Death Eaters retreating that way?

Well, I mean… how would the order know that the death eaters came through there since they weren’t present during Dumbles and Draco’s Dialogue From Hell?

. . . and out into a corridor where a number of bewildered and pyjama-clad Hufflepuffs stood.

‘Harry! We heard a noise and someone said something about the Dark Mark –’ began Ernie Macmillan.

‘Out of the way!’ yelled Harry, knocking two boys aside as he sprinted towards the landing and down the remainder of the marble staircase.

The hufflepuffs sure are relevant and important!

You know, I just bet their house peaked with Cedric.

The oak front doors had been blasted open; there were smears of blood on the flagstones and several terrified students stood huddled against the walls, one or two still cowering with their arms over their faces . . .

I know I’m asking this for nothing but, like, shouldn’t one of the teachers — or maybe Argus since he can’t do anything in a battle anyway — have made a school-wide accouncement for the kids not to leave their rooms and maybe remotely kindle their fireplaces so they can evacuate?

. . . Harry sped up as an unbidden voice in his head said: not Hagrid … not Hagrid too …

YES PLEASE HAGRID TOO.

Rowling is such a tease.

He missed; the jet of red light soared past Snape’s head; Snape shouted, ‘Run, Draco!’ and turned; twenty yards apart he and Harry looked at each other before raising their wands simultaneously.

Aww, Severus and Draco are so precious.

And if I remember right there was absolutely nothing about them in Book Seven because of course.

‘Cruc—’

But Snape parried the curse, knocking Harry backwards off his feet before he could complete it . . .

BUT HARRY IS SO PURE AND LOVING HE COULD NEVER BE SEDUCED BY THE DARK ARTS.

Also~ Asking out of curiosity but, like, what was that again about Draco and crucios?

Ha ha, these books and fandom are an utter joke.

‘Fang’s in there, yeh evil –!’ Hagrid bellowed.

Fluffy. Norbert. Flobberworms. Skrewts.

Dudley. Draco. All the kids in his class.

But sure, Hagrid, you go off.

‘Cruc—’ yelled Harry for the second time, aiming for the figure ahead illuminated in the dancing firelight, but Snape blocked the spell again; Harry could see him sneering.

Ha ha.

But sure, keep telling me that Draco tried to use crucio.

‘Coward, did you call me, Potter?’ shouted Snape. ‘Your father would never attack me unless it was four on one, what would you call him, I wonder?’

Hee.

*falls in love*

I mean, you gotta admit — Severus has style. And a way with words.

Also! I know what to call James: a psychopathic loser.

‘No!’ roared Snape’s voice and the pain stopped as suddenly as it had started; Harry lay curled on the dark grass, clutching his wand and panting; somewhere above him Snape was shouting, ‘Have you forgotten our orders? Potter belongs to the Dark Lord – we are to leave him! Go! Go!’

Oh my god, please tell me Severus is lying instead of Tommy still. not. fucking. learning.

And I mean! Draco! had him utterly helpless! And he didn’t just send the Boy Wonder gift-wrapped to Tommy!

But of course, then we would’ve needed an actual plot in this book instead of teenage relationship drama and quidditch.

. . . he staggered blindly towards Snape, the man he now hated as much as he hated Voldemort himself –

Well. Considering you’ve basically never had these visceral reactions to Tommy — probably because you’re much too busy calling him handsome — how does that differ from the usual? I mean, he’s always hated Severus and Draco more than, say, Dudley, Tommy, Peter or Dolores who actually made his life miserable. With behaviour. Not words.

Words =/= behaviour.

‘Sectum—’

BUT HARRY IS FOR SURE SO PURE AND LOVING HE’D NEVER BE SEDUCED BY THE DARK ARTS.

‘You dare use my own spells against me, Potter? It was I who invented them – I, the Half-Blood Prince! And you’d turn my inventions on me, like your filthy father, would you? I don’t think so … no!’

Well, as Hagrid so judiciously taught me: a rotten apple doesn’t fall far off a rotten tree.

Harry had dived for his wand; Snape shot a hex at it and it flew feet away into the darkness and out of sight.

And he still isn’t actually attacking Harry.

Oh, Severus. I need to give you all the good things in a fic. I actually want to give him Penny Haywood from that mobile Harry Potter game. I tried it for a bit and Penny was like the only character I liked because she was so pretty and nice, and I thought it was actually kind of cute how she liked or respected Severus too. So if I’m going to pair Severus with any girl, it’s going to be her, ha ha.

‘DON’T –’ screamed Snape, and his face was suddenly demented, inhuman, as though he was in as much pain as the yelping, howling dog stuck in the burning house behind them, ‘– CALL ME COWARD!’

“Demented, inhuman”.

Also, what is this, Back to the Future?

And he slashed at the air: Harry felt a white-hot, whiplike something hit him across the face and was slammed backwards into the ground. Spots of light burst in front of his eyes and for a moment all the breath seemed to have gone from his body . . .

And of ALL the things that finally made him rightfully smack Harry across the face.

Buckbeak had flown at Snape, who staggered backwards as the razor-sharp claws slashed at him. As Harry raised himself into a sitting position, his head still swimming from its last contact with the ground, he saw Snape running as hard as he could, the enormous beast flapping behind him and screeching as Harry had never heard him screech –

You know…

As I read these books, the only real question that consistently occurs to me is: why didn’t Rowling just write a complete farce?

He stumbled towards the burning house as an enormous figure emerged from out of the flames carrying Fang on his back. With a cry of thankfulness, Harry sank to his knees; he was shaking in every limb, his body ached all over and his breath came in painful stabs.

What a shame.

Not the dog. Hagrid.

‘Course I am … take more’n that ter finish me.’

What. a. shame.

‘Dumbledore,’ said Harry. ‘Snape killed … Dumbledore.’

‘He’s dead. Snape killed him …’

Hee. He he.

Oh, I’m sorry, I just — I can’t even bring myself to pretend that I’m not absolutely gleeful that Dumbles is dead.

Harry had known there was no hope from the moment that the Body-Bind Curse Dumbledore had placed upon him lifted, known that it could have happened only because its caster was dead; but there was still no preparation for seeing him here, spread-eagled, broken: the greatest wizard Harry had ever, or would ever, meet.

Harry.

You’re still a complete moron.

Then he gazed down at the wise old face and tried to absorb the enormous and incomprehensible truth: that never again would Dumbledore speak to him, never again could he help …

Moreover, there was nothing inside but for a scrap of folded parchment wedged tightly into the place where a portrait should have been.

I think I was supposed to ask this earlier but I wonder whose portrait Sally was keeping?

Automatically, without really thinking about what he was doing, Harry pulled out the fragment of parchment . . .

How does that differ from the usual, Harry?

To the Dark Lord
I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more.
R.A.B.

And there you have it. Regulus — who “deserved to die” according to his stellar big brother — did more for the cause than Sirius ever managed. What Sirius did manage to do, however, was some good old-fashioned muggle-baiting in the prequel. Which happened during the war. Rowling had a chance of showing those two morons doing — anything. at all. And what she chose to show was them doing exactly what all wizards do: harassing muggles.

Dumbledore had weakened himself by drinking that terrible potion for nothing.

Ha ha! Harry, he’s already dead: you don’t have to make it even better.

I forgot to count Harry’s spells but I don’t think he used any new ones anyway so…

Harry’s spell count so far: twenty-seven.

‘Harry — you’re a great wizard, you know.’

Chapter Twenty-seven – The Lightning-Struck Tower

I recently realised that I’ve been re-reading this book for at least seven months and I’m kind of having a mild existential crisis about it.

But in totally unrelated news, I was out walking the other day when I came across this little thing:

My sister said it was probably a baby viper, the only poisonous snake of the three snakes in Finland. My other sister asked, “oh, you dared to walk past it?” and I was like, “look, the last time I saw a viper was probably in a picture in one of those biology lessons in school. I didn’t even realise it was a viper even though the thought did occur to me.”

And I mean, it was just laying there nicely and politely I went past it from behind because I did consider if it was going to have a fit anyway and go for my ankles so better play it safe.

For some reason, I was under the misimpression that vipers have red on them. Now that I think of it, I have no idea where I got this misimpression? But anyhow, it was the first time I’d seen a live snake in the wild so I memorised it with a photo. And everyone I showed it to either said, “oh, you actually dared to get so close to it for a photo” or “oh, it looked bigger than a baby in the photo” and I was like, “…..cameras have this nifty feature called zoom?” Ha ha.

Okay, that was that and now back to Harry Potter.

I was thinking about my utter disinterest in the previous chapter some more and I think the problem is kind of multifold. Like, let’s take this book for example. There’s no plot to speak of. Sure Rowling tries to pretend that the plot is about “stopping Tommy” but… it’s not. The main focus of this book is teenage relationship drama and bloody quidditch.

So when something finally happens, it just feels completely unearned. Like, it feels like a distraction from the main focus instead of being a natural sequence and peak of the main focus if that makes sense? Moreover, the previous chapter was about Dumbles, Harry and Tommy, basically my least favourite characters in these books so that probably was a big contribution to my utter disinterest. This chapter has Draco so let’s see if I can focus more this time, ha ha!

And then one more thing, I think, before I get to the chapter proper.

That is, world building and more specifically culture.

One of the glaring problems in these books is that Rowling never really gets into what muggle, muggleborn, squib and pureblood mean in practical terms.

And what I mean is, is it genetic? Class? Education? Or is it all just thematic even though the themes are so badly done that they make me want to chew walls?

But if I consider that this world also has centaurs, mermaids, giants, dwarfs, trolls, fairies etc. I’d say it’s safe to assume that wizards — aka purebloods — and muggles are, in fact, separate species.

Which brings me to the fact that wizards — or purebloods — hardly have anything of their own. They speak English and all of their spells are in Latin instead of presumably their own language. Most of them apparently wear casual muggle clothes — like the Weasleys even though it doesn’t make any sense in their case. They barely have one street, one village of less than ten people, and one school in Britain. All of their holidays are muggle holidays. The only things that wizards have of their own are basically sweets — which are bizarre but then Rowling doesn’t fully lean into that either because their actual meals are just normal “muggle meals” — and a single sport. Which is… I mean… it’s absolutely hilarious for several reasons.

But! If there is a genocidal campaign going on in these books then ironically it isn’t towards muggleborns.

‘We did it, Professor!’ Harry whispered with difficulty; he suddenly realised that he had a searing stitch in his chest. ‘We did it! We got the Horcrux!’

I think that ‘we’ is kind of stretching it, Harry.

Dumbledore staggered against him. For a moment, Harry thought that his inexpert Apparition had thrown Dumbledore off-balance; then he saw his face, paler and damper than ever in the distant light of a streetlamp.

‘Sir, are you all right?’

“Sir, are you all right”. *massive eye roll*

What do you think, Harry?

There it was, hanging in the sky above the school: the blazing green skull with a serpent tongue, the mark Death Eaters left behind whenever they had entered a building … wherever they had murdered …

Well, Bartemius Jr left it too and he certainly didn’t murder your useless arse when he had the perfect opportunity to.

‘It might be that nobody within Hogwarts has yet realised anything is wrong …’

I’d say that a big glowing skull in the sky would be rather hard to miss but on the other hand, it is Hogwarts.

. . . would he be responsible, again, for the death of a friend?

Does Harry mean Sirius?

I mean, I don’t know. It’s kind of weird if he refers to a thirty-year-old semi-guardian as a “friend”.

As they flew over the dark, twisting lane down which they had walked earlier, Harry heard, over the whistling of the night air in his ears, Dumbledore muttering in some strange language again. He thought he understood why as he felt his broom shudder for a moment when they flew over the boundary wall into the grounds: Dumbledore was undoing the enchantments he himself had set around the castle, so that they could enter at speed.

Like… why, though?

Charlie’s friends just flew in and out. Ron and Harry just flew in. Peter got in repeatedly every year. Tommy just walked in on the back of Quirrell’s head and the diary. Sirius got in.

Hell, the grounds itself had poisonous snakes in the sewers and poisonous man-eating spiders and giants and centaurs in the forest and… why do I even try?

The door burst open and somebody erupted through it and shouted: ‘Expelliarmus!’

Ha ha, Draco is honestly great.

Standing against the ramparts, very white in the face, Dumbledore still showed no sign of panic or distress. He merely looked across at his disarmer and said, ‘Good evening, Draco.’

Don’t you dare call him Draco, Dumbles.

‘Well, well,’ said Dumbledore, as though Malfoy was showing him an ambitious homework project. ‘Very good indeed. You found a way to let them in, did you?’

Considering all the previous books, I hardly think that’s much of an achievement, to be honest.

‘They met some of your guard. They’re having a fight down below. They won’t be long … I came on ahead. I – I’ve got a job to do.’

Oh my god, they are held up by fucking brats. Death eaters — Tommy’s supposedly elite little group of dark wizards — are held up by brats.

I mean, seriously. Did anyone ever take the death eaters as an actual threat?

‘Draco, Draco, you are not a killer.’

Dumbles, do not call him Draco.

‘How do you know?’ said Malfoy at once.

It’s kind of obvious, Draco. In spite of your funny grudgeful little heart, you’re a complete softy who never even took revenge for himself.

He seemed to realise how childish the words had sounded; Harry saw him flush in the Mark’s greenish light.

Ha ha, he’s cute.

‘You don’t know what I’m capable of,’ said Malfoy more forcefully, ‘you don’t know what I’ve done!’

Aw, he’s so silly.

‘Oh, yes, I do,’ said Dumbledore mildly. ‘You almost killed Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley. You have been trying, with increasing desperation, to kill me all year. Forgive me, Draco, but they have been feeble attempts … so feeble, to be honest, that I wonder whether your heart has been really in it …’

Aaaand you just let him carry on? Accidentally-on-purpose-under-pressure endangering other students?

There are exactly two possibilities: either Dumbles is the root of all evil or he’s an absolutely useless sack of dung who never fucking does anything or learns from his secrecy and inaction.

You may take your pick.

‘Somebody is putting up a good fight,’ said Dumbledore conversationally.

It would probably be nice to actually see some of this “action”.

And like, this! This is almost exactly what I mean. Nothing ever happens in these books because all the happenings happen precisely when we don’t see them. So when Rowling finally pretends that Harry or Dumbles or Tommy are totally for reals doing something, it’s like “that’s nice but can we get back to the real focus of these books — which is completely sterile interpersonal relationships?”

And quidditch.

‘But you were saying … yes, you have managed to introduce Death Eaters into my school which, I admit, I thought impossible …’

Dumbles is honestly so full of shite. *gives a tired laugh*

Tommy got in. Repeatedly. Same with Peter. And Fake-Moody, I can’t believe I almost forgot Fake-Moody.

‘But why? I don’t think you will kill me, Draco. Killing is not nearly as easy as the innocent believe … so tell me, while we wait for your friends … how did you smuggle them in here? It seems to have taken you a long time to work out how to do it.’

You know, it honestly sets my teeth on edge that Dumbles is talking to Draco, ha ha.

Also~ TOMMY. PETER. BARTEMIUS JR.

IT IS NOT AN ACHIEVEMENT.

Then, as though he could not help himself, he said, ‘I had to mend that broken Vanishing Cabinet that no one’s used for years. The one Montague got lost in last year.’

Oh my god, Rowling. Stop doing this, you utter hack. Montague didn’t get “lost”. He was shoved into the cabinet by the Sociopathic Twins.

‘He never managed to get all the words out,’ said Fred, ‘due to the fact that we forced him head-first into that Vanishing Cabinet on the first floor.’

This. This is not Montague getting “lost” because he’s such a Bertha Jorkins, tee hee hee~.

That woman is like —

Okay, a break!

Oh, also~ and then the fandom actually depicts Harry as good with handicrafts and magic. *massive eye roll*

‘The other’s in Borgin and Burkes,’ said Malfoy, ‘and they make a kind of passage between them. Montague told me that when he was stuck in the Hogwarts one, he was trapped in limbo but sometimes he could hear what was going on at school, and sometimes what was going on in the shop, as if the Cabinet was travelling between them, but he couldn’t make anyone hear him … in the end he managed to Apparate out, even though he’d never passed his test. He nearly died doing it. Everyone thought it was a really good story, but I was the only one who realised what it meant – even Borgin didn’t know – I was the one who realised there could be a way into Hogwarts through the Cabinets if I fixed the broken one.’

So, two things:

one) “he nearly died doing it”. In other words, the Sociopathic Twins almost killed Montague. Over house points.

two) as much as I like that Draco managed to do this, it’s… still… not an achievement. As all the previous books have established, you can just walk or fly into Hogwarts.

And before someone even tries “um, actually”: Tommy got in. Twice. Peter got in. Three times. Bartemius Jr got in. So no, evidently there are no protections against dark wizards or death eaters around Hogwarts. Never mind the other dark creatures right on the bloody grounds.

‘Yeah,’ said Malfoy who, bizarrely, seemed to draw courage and comfort from Dumbledore’s praise. ‘Yeah, it was!’

Ha ha, he’s so cute.

‘Yeah, well, you still didn’t realise who was behind that stuff, did you?’ sneered Malfoy, as Dumbledore slid a little down the ramparts, the strength in his legs apparently fading, and Harry struggled fruitlessly, mutely, against the enchantment binding him.

You know… As cute as I find Draco, this chapter is actually quite boring. I mean, Rowling isn’t very good at writing point of views because even here Harry is basically relegated to this reactionless, inactive prop for the other characters and what the other characters are doing isn’t all that interesting either. It’s all just blah blah blah.

my fancy artistic rendition

I probably should’ve given that thing eyes when I made it, ha ha.

‘As a matter of fact, I did,’ said Dumbledore. ‘I was sure it was you.’

‘Why didn’t you stop me, then?’ Malfoy demanded.

Um, the same reason why he did nothing to stop Quirrell/Tommy, Ginny/Tommy, Gilderoy, Sirius, Peter, Fake-Moody, Dolores, the basilisk, Grawp, Hagrid — am I forgetting something?

‘I tried, Draco. Professor Snape has been keeping watch over you on my orders –’

‘He hasn’t been doing your orders, he promised my mother –’

I honestly kind of wanted more from Severus and Draco’s relationship. Like, how did Severus even get to know the Malfoys?

‘He’s a double-agent, you stupid old man, he isn’t working for you, you just think he is!’

“You stupid old man”.

*falls in love*

‘Well, you’re losing your grip, then!’ sneered Malfoy. ‘He’s been offering me plenty of help – wanting all the glory for himself – wanting a bit of the action – “What are you doing? Did you do the necklace, that was stupid, it could have blown everything –” But I haven’t told him what I’ve been doing in the Room of Requirement, he’s going to wake up tomorrow and it’ll all be over and he won’t be the Dark Lord’s favourite any more, he’ll be nothing compared to me, nothing!’

Honestly, Draco, I’m very fond of you and even I think the necklace was stupid. *sotto voce*

Also~ I really wish that Rowling hadn’t written the death eaters or budding death eaters as complete house-elves or — if she was so inclined — she had actually done something about it. Like, at least have someone call them out on it?

Especially since most of these death eaters or budding death eaters were supposed to be slytherins and slytherins were supposed to be cunning folk doing what they wilt.

Oh, and real friends. Can’t forget the real friends.

Which hilariously implies that the rest of the houses aren’t real friends and which you can directly see in canon.

‘… poor Mr Filch would not, of course, think to check a bottle of Rosmerta’s …’

…..why? Isn’t the whole point of check-ups to check everything and not just the stuff that already looks suspicious?

‘Enchanted coins,’ said Malfoy, as though he was compelled to keep talking, though his wand hand was shaking badly. ‘I had one and she had the other and I could send her messages –’

‘Yeah, I got the idea from them,’ said Malfoy, with a twisted smile. ‘I got the idea of poisoning the mead from the Mudblood Granger, as well, I heard her talking in the library about Filch not recognising potions …’

You know, on the one hand it’s nice that Draco knows how to use things to his advantage and on the other hand it’s like, again. With fucking Hermione. Ha ha.

‘Please do not use that offensive word in front of me,’ said Dumbledore.

Mudblood mudblood mudblood mudblood mudblood mudblood mudblood.

How about you aren’t a complete hypocritical little shit, Dumbles? Or do I need to remind you of what your darling little pets get up in actual behaviour? Like, say, Hagrid attacking a terrified eleven-year-old boy for something his dad said about you?

Never heard or saw Dumbles disapproving that.

But of course, that was supposed to be funny.

As an aside, I guess this chapter is more tolerable than the Soliloquies From Hell but all this bloody dialogue still makes me want to shiv something.

‘I was supposed to be waiting up here when you got back, only your Phoenix lot got in the way …’

Come to think of it, Dumbles little private army of brainwashed morons is called the order of phoenix. I repeat, again: why is it Dumbles with all of these references and associations to immortality when that was the exact burr up Tommy’s arse? Like, I keep saying that Dumbles is just a more successful version of who Tommy tries to be.

‘My options!’ said Malfoy loudly. ‘I’m standing here with a wand – I’m about to kill you –’

Oh, Draco, you dork. If you were actually going to do it, you would’ve already done it. And frankly, genuinely speaking, I find it an utter shame that you didn’t do it.

But not, like, in as these books are. Because Rowling is a complete hack as an author.

‘I haven’t got any options!’ said Malfoy, and he was suddenly as white as Dumbledore. ‘I’ve got to do it! He’ll kill me! He’ll kill my whole family!’

And the so-called side of “good” would just as well feed him to a werewolf as a lark.

‘I appreciate the difficulty of your position,’ said Dumbledore. ‘Why else do you think I have not confronted you before now? Because I knew that you would have been murdered if Lord Voldemort realised that I suspected you.’

I thought Hogwarts was supposed to be the safest place in the world, Dumbles?

AND AGAIN WITH THE BLOODY LORD VOLDEMORT. YOU COMPLETE NITWITS KEEP ENABLING TOTALLY INCOMPETENT DARK WIZARDS.

‘I did not dare speak to you of the mission with which I knew you had been entrusted, in case he used Legilimency against you,’ continued Dumbledore. ‘But now at last we can speak plainly to each other … no harm has been done, you have hurt nobody, though you are very lucky that your unintentional victims survived … I can help you, Draco.’

Like, how you’ve so massively and demonstrably helped people so far?

And I mean, you could’ve just, you know, talked with Draco privately and arranged your order of the phoenix extract Narcissa and Lucius for safekeeping? I mean, Draco was already supposedly “safe” at Hogwarts? Kind of hard to use legilimency on a kid who isn’t there?

And then maybe — just maybe — we could’ve had an actual bloody plot in this travesty of a book?

‘No, you can’t,’ said Malfoy, his wand hand shaking very badly indeed. ‘Nobody can. He told me to do it or he’ll kill me. I’ve got no choice.’

*pets his head*

It’s okay, Draco. I’ll give you all the good things in the world since no one else will.

‘Come over to the right side, Draco, and we can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine. What is more, I can send members of the Order to your mother tonight to hide her likewise. Your father is safe at the moment in Azkaban … when the time comes we can protect him too … come over to the right side, Draco … you are not a killer …’

“Right side”.

And isn’t this little speech — oh I don’t know — several months too late, you utter useless sack of dung?

Malfoy stared at Dumbledore.

‘But I got this far, didn’t I?’ he said slowly. ‘They thought I’d die in the attempt, but I’m here … and you’re in my power … I’m the one with the wand … you’re at my mercy …’

‘No, Draco,’ said Dumbledore quietly. ‘It is my mercy, and not yours, that matters now.’

Oh, sorry. I just experienced a moment of intense revulsion.

A lumpy-looking man with an odd lopsided leer gave a wheezy giggle.

‘Dumbledore cornered!’ he said, and he turned to a stocky little woman who looked as though she could be his sister and who was grinning eagerly. ‘Dumbledore wandless, Dumbledore alone! Well done, Draco, well done!’

No but seriously, why do the death eaters have to be like this? Either they act like house-elves or insane children.

Well, considering that all wizards act like psychopathic adult-children, I guess it’s consistent.

‘Jokes? No, no, these are manners,’ replied Dumbledore.

Please.

Like the same manners you showed towards the Dursleys?

‘Do it,’ said the stranger standing nearest to Harry, a big, rangy man with matted grey hair and whiskers, whose black Death Eater’s robes looked uncomfortably tight.

Whiskers.

The guy who has made it a lifestyle attacking children has whiskers.

‘Am I to take it that you are attacking even without the full moon now? This is most unusual … you have developed a taste for human flesh that cannot be satisfied once a month?’

‘That’s right,’ said Greyback. ‘Shocks you, that, does it, Dumbledore? Frightens you?’

Well, not really. None of you are really frightening… or serious… or intelligent… or competent. And you all act exactly the same so my interest in the lot of you is somewhere in the region of “I want them all dead”.

‘Well, I cannot pretend it does not disgust me a little,’ said Dumbledore. ‘And, yes, I am a little shocked that Draco here invited you, of all people, into the school where his friends live …’

‘I didn’t,’ breathed Malfoy. He was not looking at Greyback; he did not seem to want to even glance at him. ‘I didn’t know he was going to come –’

Aww. *hugs him*

And again that word: “friends”. IT’S A REAL SHAME THAT HE COULDN’T KEEP ANY THEN, HUH, ROWLING?

Bloody hack.

‘No,’ said the fourth Death Eater sharply. He had a heavy, brutal-looking face. ‘We’ve got orders. Draco’s got to do it. Now, Draco, and quickly.’

Finally someone who sounds like an actual adult and serious. Oh, you nameless death eater, we hardly knew ye.

‘Always the same, weren’t yeh, Dumby, talking and doing nothing, nothing, I don’t even know why the Dark Lord’s bothering to kill yeh!’

Well, in spite of being insane and juvenile, Amycus apparently had Dumbles down pat.

Harry’s heart leapt: so these four had not eliminated all opposition, but merely broken through the fight to the top of the Tower, and, by the sound of it, created a barrier behind them –

Death eaters. Adults. Dark wizards. Who have history and experience torturing and murdering people. Couldn’t eliminate brats.

Like, it’s not so much that I want these brats to die….. well, on good days. It’s more about the fact that these books are such unserious fucking garbage and it makes me want to weep. Imagine how many people have wasted their time and brain capacity on these books?

But Malfoy’s hand was shaking so badly that he could barely aim.

Aww. *hugs him*

It’s okay, Draco. You can do it. *sotto voce*

I mean… *looks away shiftily*

‘Now, Draco, quickly!’ said the brutal-faced man angrily.

‘I said no!’ shouted the brutal-faced man; there was a flash of light and the werewolf was blasted out of the way; he hit the ramparts and staggered, looking furious.

The nameless death eater keeps improving his impression with me, funny enough.

Snape gazed for a moment at Dumbledore, and there was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face.

‘Severus … please …’

Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore.

‘Avada Kedavra!’

A jet of green light shot from the end of Snape’s wand and hit Dumbledore squarely in the chest. Harry’s scream of horror never left him; silent and unmoving, he was forced to watch as Dumbledore was blasted into the air: for a split second he seemed to hang suspended beneath the shining skull, and then he fell slowly backwards, like a great rag doll, over the battlements and out of sight.

FINALLY!

SWEET MERCIFUL GODS THE OLD CREEP IS DEAD!

ONE DOWN! MILLION MORE TO GO!

…..probably not the reaction Rowling was going for, to be honest, but it was completely genuine.

Harry’s spell count so far: twenty-seven.

‘Harry — you’re a great wizard, you know.’

Honestly, Dumbles dying was… it was such a catharsis. It feels so good, ha ha.

Anyway, so I promised I’d talk about this when I got to this chapter but of course it’s been so long I can’t remember the exact details of what I wanted to talk about anymore. But basically, it was about the parallel character arcs of Harry and Draco.

You see, what prompted this thought was the realisation that Dumbles is the root of all evil. He and Tommy are just two sides of the same shitty coin. He’s just a successful version of Tommy (like Harry is a less successful version of Tommy. Oh how things are destined to degrade).

So you have Harry who is “destined” — lol, lmao even — to take down Tommy for the greater good. And on the other side, for the lack of a better term, you have Draco who could’ve taken down Dumbles for the greater good. But of course because Rowling is a total and utter unserious hack that’s not the story you actually got. Instead, Dumbles becomes the Harry Potter version of god basically.

I hope the average Harry Potter enjoyer really enjoys the greatest children’s books of the century. I also hope they enjoy all the consequences that withhold.

Chapter Twenty-six – The Cave

I feel kind of bad for calling Rowling’s writing horseshit in the previous post. Not because I’ve changed my opinion about her writing but because horseshit sounds harsh now that I’ve calmed down, ha ha. So in the interest of fairness, there are exactly two possibilities: either Rowling is a literary genius who wrote a thoroughly self-contradicting shallow mess on purpose (which is extremely unlikely but not entirely out of the realm of possibility) or that woman can’t write to save her life.

Occam’s razor dictates that you always go with the most parsimonious explanation. So, as always, you can decide for yourself.

Also, to elaborate on Draco a bit. Like, I’m not saying that people can’t dislike Draco. People can dislike or like all the characters they want for whatever reasons they have. That’s not the problem. Sometimes you just don’t care about certain characters for whatever reasons and Draco is an obnoxious dork and some people are just not into that. The problem is when people dislike Draco because “he said or did X”. I’m not sure what the most common complaints about Draco’s character are so I’ll just list the ones I know.

strawman: He made fun of Hufflepuffs!

me: Sorry to burst your Harry Potter bubble (not really) but Hagrid also said “everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o’ duffers–” before Hagrid, in his infinite wisdom, went on to imply that all Slytherin eleven-year-olds are budding mass murderers. Hagrid is sixty. Draco is eleven. And Draco hasn’t said a word about Hufflepuff or Hufflepuffs since.

strawman: Draco bullied Ron and Harry!

me: Ron and Harry started it — Harry was rude and Ron laughed at his name — and they were bullying him long before Draco actually did anything to them. Words =/= behaviour.

strawman: Draco called Hermione a mudblood!

me: Hermione dissed Draco first. Also, Sybill and your precious little Hermione call Firenze a horse. Firenze hasn’t even done anything (to them) aside from that small matter of saving Harry’s life. Dean had the brilliant idea of asking him to his face if Hagrid breeds them like thestrals. Get over it.

strawman: Draco bullied Neville!

me: The entire Gryffindor dorm bullies Neville, and that includes your precious little Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. They ostracised him over house points and when he lost the passwords. They laugh in his face and behind his back. Draco, on the other hand, has not been seen or mentioned bullying Neville since Book One. Get. Over. It.

strawman: Draco is mean to Hagrid!

me: Hagrid is sixty. Hagrid has threatened Draco twice to do what he’s told by forcing him into the Forbidden Forest in the middle of the night and forcing him to take care of his illegal dangerous magical beasts that absolutely no one liked. Hagrid is demonstrably a terrible teacher and a person, and Draco is just saying what everyone else is thinking.

strawman: Draco does mean impressions of other people!

me: So do Ginny and Ron — Ginny of Fleur and Ron and Ron of Hermione. Try again.

strawman: Draco called Molly porky!

me: Draco is fourteen and fictional. The narrative, written by a real adult woman (presumably) and which is from Harry’s point of view (presumably), goes into great detail about how enormously fat Dudley is every time he’s on the scene — or anyone Not-Molly. It’s not like the narrative is any more polite towards Slughorn. Also, Molly is overweight. Get over it.

strawman: Draco wanted his classmates to die!

me: So did Ron and Harry — Ron even added “shame that his mother likes him” when discussing shoving Draco off a glacier. Try again!

strawman: But but but! Draco used the cruciatus curse!

me: Nope! Guess again! Draco said ‘cruci-‘ before our stupendously talented Boy Wonder bellowed out an entire sectumsempra and almost eviscerated him to death. Also! Our stupendously talented Boy Wonder has wanted to and has used the cruciatus spell at least twice before and after Draco and unlike Draco’s cruci, Harry’s cruciatus actually hit its targets. For bonus points, here’s other dark magic that our stupendously loving Boy Wonder has used: cruciatus, sectumsempra, levicorpus, and imperius if I recall correctly.

edit: And Harry tried to use crucio twice on Severus in chapter 28. So that’s two hits, two attempts, and three more times than Draco.

strawman: Draco wanted Buckbeak put down!

me: In the same book in which Hermione was showing gross indifference towards Ron’s pet and regularly endangered it? “All cats chase rats, Ron!” Ha ha, yeah, sure. Also~ Hermione wanted to stomp the blast-ended skrewts dead and Ron consistently wants to kick Norris. Oh, and Fred and George fed fireworks to an animal even if it was “only” a salamander.

strawman: But Draco hates Muggleborns! How can you justify that!

me: No, actually he didn’t. Draco initiated a perfectly polite conversation with a boy he didn’t know or recognise, a boy who was too thin and unkempt and dressed in too big muggle clothes. Harry is the one who judged him because Draco was talking about things that are normal to him, ironically proving Draco’s point — “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” — true.

Like, imagine this: Harry is a total gremlin who first started hating Draco because Draco is loved by his parents, then he further judges Draco because Draco is talking about Quidditch and schoolhouses, things that are normal to Draco, they’re a part of his world and culture, and then Draco adds the perfectly sensible sentiment that muggle(born)s and wizards should stick to their own kind — which is the most peaceful solution to all problems. “Walls make good neighbours.”

But anyway! All of the wizards hate Muggles. All. Of. Them. And the only reason why you don’t notice it is because Rowling made it okay. So do not talk to me about “Draco hating Muggleborns”.

Never mind that the Golden Trio of Morons were rude to Draco first for no reason, kept attacking him for words, and he got increasingly radicalised from there.

Bonus point: Your precious James Potter was actually torturing a half-blood kid (for years) to blackmail his muggleborn friend into dating him. And when the muggleborn girl acted uppity and yelled at him to stop it? James threatened to hex her too.

Show me any equivalent of Draco doing the same and then we’ll talk.

This is the litmus test on intelligence and reading comprehension.

‘They brought the kids from the orphanage here?’ asked Harry, who could not imagine a less cosy spot for a daytrip.

Even “bleak, harsh” places can be worth a visit, Harry. But what would you know, you’ve never been to anywhere and you’ve never cared to be to anywhere.

‘I imagine that Riddle climbed down; magic would have served better than ropes. And he brought two small children with him, probably for the pleasure of terrorising them. I think the journey alone would have done it, don’t you?’

To be honest, I’m quite tired at the moment. I was feeling this lowkey anxiety last night and I thought it’d help if I finished this Tomb Raider II level that I hadn’t managed to finish for the past few days. Even though I was about halfway through the level, it still took more time than I intended to and the end result is that I got to sleep late.

But. How exactly does this differ from any wizard’s behaviour? As I’ve established throughout these books, all of them enjoy terrorising muggles. And this? Tommy taking them to a secret cave down a dangerous shore? Doesn’t even sound so bad so far. Especially if the two muggle kids were boys and boys enjoy finding secret caves in dangerous places.

Harry looked up at the cliff again and felt goosebumps.

Harry is a complete loser, though.

. . . where a series of jagged niches that made footholds led down to boulders that lay half-submerged in water and closer to the cliff.

Maybe it’s because I’m tired but this sentence.

It was a treacherous descent and Dumbledore, hampered slightly by his withered hand, moved slowly. The lower rocks were slippery with sea water.

Why didn’t they just apparate in front of or inside the cave entrance?

‘Then take off your Invisibility Cloak – there is no need for it now – and let us take the plunge.’

There is no need for the death-evading cloak in a cave full inferi, Dumbles?

Okay then.

And with the sudden agility of a much younger man, Dumbledore slid from the boulder, landed in the sea and began to swim, with a perfect breaststroke, towards the dark slit in the rock face, his lit wand held in his teeth.

Like?

They’re wizards?

Why not use magic instead of swimming?

I mean, I can’t imagine Tommy taking the time and effort to swim there either?

Harry could not tell whether the shivers he was experiencing were due to his spine-deep coldness or to the same awareness of enchantments.

Harry, please. You barely have any awareness of breathing, let alone sensing “enchantments”.

Dumbledore approached the wall of the cave and caressed it with his blackened fingertips, murmuring words in a strange tongue that Harry did not understand.

You know, it’s honestly quite aggravating that when Rowling could use a bit of telling she does not tell at all.

Harry did not ask how Dumbledore knew. He had never seen a wizard work things out like this, simply by looking and touching; but Harry had long since learned that bangs and smoke were more often the marks of ineptitude than expertise.

Oh, have you? Since when?

‘Harry, I’m so sorry, I forgot,’ he said; he pointed his wand at Harry and at once Harry’s clothes were as warm and dry as if they had been hanging in front of a blazing fire.

Ha ha. I forgot.

Well, nice to know where Harry learned his attentiveness and consideration from.

‘I said it was crude,’ said Dumbledore, who sounded disdainful, even disappointed, as though Voldemort had fallen short of the standards Dumbledore expected. ‘The idea, as I am sure you will have gathered, is that your enemy must weaken him or herself to enter. Once again, Lord Voldemort fails to grasp that there are much more terrible things than physical injury.’

I just came to the realisation that this is once again one of those chapters I have subzero interest in.

And I mean… This is exactly how I’ve been characterising Dumbles since Book One. But I’m writing him as this megalomaniacal creep who wanted to impress his methods on Tommy and I’m — more or less sure that Rowling didn’t actually intend that reading.

‘You are very kind, Harry,’ said Dumbledore, now passing the tip of his wand over the deep cut he had made in his own arm, so that it healed instantly, just as Snape had healed Malfoy’s wounds. ‘But your blood is worth more than mine.’

Okay, that’s two pages in. I’m sure I can take a break and continue tomorrow.

The break was useless. I still have absolutely no interest in reading this chapter. *sighs*

And you know, since we’re on the topic of Tommy and his little cave, why would anyone, like, put solutions in place for their defences? Because even if Tommy’s first defence requires “blood” and thus “weakening the enemy”… why would you potentially let them in anyway? Like, make the offering of blood a trap at least? Once the intruder flicks their blood at the wall, have it absorb it and immolate every source of it?

‘We couldn’t … we couldn’t just try a Summoning Charm?’ Harry said, sure that it was a stupid suggestion . . .

Oh, Harry. When do you have smart suggestions?

With a noise like an explosion, something very large and pale erupted out of the dark water some twenty feet away; before Harry could see what it was, it had vanished again with a crashing splash that made great, deep ripples on the mirrored surface.

Okay, a question: why are wizarding zombies waterlogged?

Immediately a thick coppery green chain appeared out of thin air . . .

Coppery green.

So… verdigris?

‘Magic always leaves traces,’ said Dumbledore, as the boat hit the bank with a gentle bump, ‘sometimes very distinctive traces. I taught Tom Riddle. I know his style.’

How is it possible that when something is finally happening, I am somehow more bored than usual?

Is it because Rowling hasn’t actually shown or told us anything about magic? Is it because as far as I can tell, there are no rules to anything except whatever strikes Rowling’s fancy way? Is it because when something finally is happening, it’s completely unearned instead of the reward of a natural build-up?

Because as fancy as she makes everything seem — what with the stupid cave and the stupid magic and the stupid lake full of stupid zombies — I just… don’t care? Like, it’s spectacle and not the natural sequence of the narrative? And I’m mostly just wondering why the hell Tommy would leave intruder-convenient solutions to his most prized possession, like when the Hogwarts teachers left thief-convenient solutions to the philosopher’s stone.

‘Oh yes, I think so. Voldemort needed to create a means to cross the lake without attracting the wrath of those creatures he had placed within it, in case he ever wanted to visit or remove his Horcrux.’

So… why not leave some kind of magical signature on the boat so that it can only be used by him?

‘Voldemort would have been reasonably confident that none but a very great wizard would have been able to find the boat,’ said Dumbledore. ‘I think he would have been prepared to risk what was, to his mind, the most unlikely possibility that somebody else would find it, knowing that he had set other obstacles ahead that only he would be able to penetrate. We shall see whether he is right.’

And yet two people and Harry have already penetrated Tommy’s stellar defences.

…..and a house-elf if I recall correctly?

‘Voldemort will not have cared about the weight, but about the amount of magical power that crossed his lake. I rather think an enchantment will have been placed upon this boat so that only one wizard at a time will be able to sail in it.’

‘But then –?’

‘I do not think you will count, Harry: you are under age and unqualified. Voldemort would never have expected a sixteen-year-old to reach this place: I think it unlikely that your powers will register compared to mine.’

Ha ha ha!

Ah, yes. I’m sure it’s about Harry being underage. *looks away shiftily*

Wasn’t Regulus, like, underage too when he died?

*checks potterwikia*

Why yes, he was either seventeen or eighteen.

But sure, it’s totally about Harry’s age.

‘Professor!’ he said, and his startled voice echoed loudly over the silent water.

Startled voice~.

But Harry, like, totally never gets scared or anything.

But Harry had his answer before Dumbledore could reply; the wand-light had slid over a fresh patch of water and showed him, this time, a dead man lying face up inches beneath the surface: his open eyes misted as though with cobwebs, his hair and his robes swirling around him like smoke.

Robes? So these are wizard zombies?

Do wizard zombies differ from muggle zombies?

‘There are bodies in here!’ said Harry, and his voice sounded much higher than usual and most unlike his own.

Ha ha.

‘Not while they are merely drifting peacefully below us,’ said Dumbledore. ‘There is nothing to be feared from a body, Harry, any more than there is anything to be feared from the darkness. Lord Voldemort, who of course secretly fears both, disagrees. But once again he reveals his own lack of wisdom. It is the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more.’

Is wizarding death actually unknown? I mean, they have ghosts, paintings, veils to death, etc.

And Lovecraft put that more succinctly, I think:

The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.

If this breakdown seems uninspired, it’s because it is.

‘Yes,’ said Dumbledore. ‘I am sure that once we take the Horcrux, we shall find them less peaceable. However, like many creatures that dwell in cold and darkness, they fear light and warmth, which we shall therefore call to our aid should the need arise. Fire, Harry,’ Dumbledore added with a smile, in response to Harry’s bewildered expression.

He actually had to explain that they need fire.

But sure, fandom, keep writing Harry as this all-powerful wizard instead of the completely brainless brat that he is.

… he suddenly wished he had said a better goodbye to them … and he hadn’t seen Ginny at all …

Ha ha ha! Oh, right. He didn’t even go to say goodbye to his girlfriend before leaving for this jaunt. But he sure, you know, does love Ginny. Like, for reals.

And you know what this jaunt makes me think of? The Bitterblack Isle in Dragon’s Dogma. Except the Bitterblack Isle was actually well done.

He raised his wand and made complicated movements over the surface of the potion, murmuring soundlessly.

Oh my god. The ONLY time when her stupid books would benefit from a little bit of telling.

‘Oh, yes.’ Dumbledore peered more closely into the basin. Harry saw his face reflected, upside-down, in the smooth surface of the green potion. ‘But how to reach it? This potion cannot be penetrated by hand, Vanished, parted, scooped up or siphoned away, nor can it be Transfigured, Charmed or otherwise made to change its nature.’

That sounds stupid. It’s magic. It’s made of ingredients. And since it’s made of ingredients, I’m sure something can break down those ingredients and the enchantments it’s made of.

‘Oh, I doubt that it would work like that,’ said Dumbledore easily. ‘Lord Voldemort would not want to kill the person who reached this island.’

Harry couldn’t believe it. Was this more of Dumbledore’s insane determination to see good in everyone?

‘Sir,’ said Harry, trying to keep his voice reasonable, ‘sir, this is Voldemort we’re –’

‘I’m sorry, Harry; I should have said, he would not want immediately to kill the person who reached this island,’ Dumbledore corrected himself. ‘He would want to keep them alive long enough to find out how they managed to penetrate so far through his defences and, most importantly of all, why they were so intent upon emptying the basin. Do not forget that Lord Voldemort believes that he alone knows about his Horcruxes.’

Like, I genuinely don’t know what I find the most boring: this chapter, Dumbles, Tommy, or Harry’s reaction to everything.

Was this why he had been invited along – so that he could force-feed Dumbledore a potion that might cause him unendurable pain?

Ha ha! Well, I don’t know, it doesn’t sound so bad~.

I kid, I’m more utilitarian about my punishments.

‘Because I am much older, much cleverer, and much less valuable,’ said Dumbledore.

Ha ha! Much cleverer.

Dumbles’ real feelings are truly shining through in this book.

Also, since Dumbles is much cleverer wouldn’t it actually be better for Harry to drink the potion? Because unlike Harry, Dumbles actually might have the magic and the knowledge to do something about the symptoms?

Another also, why does the potion have to be drunk? Can’t you just scoop it up with the goblet and toss it into the lake? Does it have a permanent refilling charm? How would the refilling charm know whether it’s being drunk or not? Does Tommy drink this potion if he needs the locket for something?

I mean, let’s imagine for a moment that Tommy changes his mind and decides to take the locket for whatever purpose. I very much doubt that Tommy would drink this potion just to get at his own locket. So evidently there is a way to disarm it that doesn’t involve drinking the potion?

In silence, Dumbledore drank three gobletfuls of the potion. Then, halfway through the fourth goblet, he staggered and fell forwards against the basin.

And you know, what happens if you throw it up in the middle of it? Like, that’s a lot of liquid and who even knows what it tastes like?

‘I don’t want … don’t make me …’

‘… don’t like … want to stop …’ moaned Dumbledore.

‘No …’ he groaned, as Harry lowered the goblet back into the basin and refilled it for him. ‘I don’t want to … I don’t want to … let me go …’

‘Make it stop, make it stop,’ moaned Dumbledore.

‘No, no, no … no … I can’t … I can’t, don’t make me, I don’t want to …’

And great, now we’re getting creepy non-con vibes from Harry to Dumbles. Exactly! what these books were lacking!

Dumbledore began to cower as though invisible torturers surrounded him; his flailing hand almost knocked the refilled goblet from Harry’s trembling hands as he moaned, ‘Don’t hurt them, don’t hurt them, please, please, it’s my fault, hurt me instead …’

Them?

And now he fell forwards, screaming again, hammering his fists upon the ground, while Harry filled the ninth goblet.

Dumbledore drank like a child dying of thirst, but when he had finished, he yelled again as though his insides were on fire.

Okay, and now we’re back to being ridiculous.

‘No,’ said Harry, shaking Dumbledore, ‘no, you’re not dead, you said it wasn’t poison, wake up, wake up – Rennervate!’ he cried, his wand pointing at Dumbledore’s chest; there was a flash of red light but nothing happened. ‘Rennervate – sir – please –’

Our twenty-fifth spell.

‘Aguamenti!’ he shouted, jabbing the goblet with his wand.

And our twenty-sixth spell!

His brain whirling in panic, Harry knew, instinctively, the only way left to get water, because Voldemort had planned it so …

He flung himself over to the edge of the rock and plunged the goblet into the lake, bringing it up full to the brim of icy water that did not vanish.

You know, Harry, I — really don’t think you should be giving Dumbles water that has corpses floating in it, whether it was planned by Tommy or not.

The surface of the lake was no longer mirror-smooth; it was churning, and everywhere Harry looked, white heads and hands were emerging from the dark water, men and women and children with sunken, sightless eyes were moving towards the rock: an army of the dead rising from the black water.

Okay, genuinely speaking: these are probably victims from the last war? And they were all gossiping about Tommy creating zombies, right? In all of those intervening years after Tommy’s First Great Fuck-up, you’re telling me that no one — not even the relatives of these victims — were like “let’s find out what he did with them and give them a proper burial”?

‘Petrificus Totalus!’ yelled Harry . . .

You know, Harry, maybe your life would’ve been a lot better if you’d listened to Severus more often. You just recently went over the inferi in the defence against the dark arts class.

. . . it released him, falling backwards into the water with a splash.

Oh look, it actually worked.

‘Petrificus Totalus!’ Harry bellowed again, backing away as he swiped his wand through the air; six or seven of them crumpled, but more were coming towards him. ‘Impedimenta! Incarcerous!’

Twenty-seventh spell (incarcerous).

And fire, Harry. Use a bloody fire spell and let’s get this chapter over with.

Still slashing at the air with his wand, Harry yelled, ‘Sectumsempra! SECTUMSEMPRA!’

Oh I’m sorry, it’s just — This kid is unintentionally hilarious. Like, just two chapters prior, Harry almost killed someone with this spell. And instead of learning something from it, or maybe hesitating about using the spell again, he tries to use it against zombies. After Dumbles specifically told him to use fire but then again, Dumbles is much cleverer.

But Harry’s conscience was for sure squirming slightly. Oh, and he’s so pure and good and loving that he Would Never be seduced by the dark arts!

But though gashes appeared in their sodden rags and their icy skin, they had no blood to spill: they walked on, unfeeling, their shrunken hands outstretched towards him, and as he backed away still further he felt arms enclose him from behind, thin, fleshless arms cold as death, and his feet left the ground as they lifted him and began to carry him, slowly and surely, back to the water, and he knew there would be no release, that he would be drowned, and become one more dead guardian of a fragment of Voldemort’s shattered soul …

I wish, but as if Rowling would ever let you die because of your stupidity and incompetence.

But then, through the darkness, fire erupted: crimson and gold, a ring of fire that surrounded the rock . . .

Oh, Dumbles is so cooool~. *monotone*

Dumbledore scooped the locket from the bottom of the stone basin and stowed it inside his robes.

So what was that about again, not wanting to rely on a philosopher’s stone that would’ve kept Tommy also youthful and beautiful~?

Harry seized him and helped him back to his seat.

Hey look, Harry actually managed to do something helpful in this chapter. He certainly exceeded my expectations.

‘Sir,’ panted Harry, ‘sir, I forgot – about fire – they were coming at me and I panicked –’

But all the fan fics have assured me that Harry is, like, totally cool and competent and powerful?

They reached the bank with a little bump and Harry leapt out, then turned quickly to help Dumbledore.

Well, look at that. Harry managed to be helpful twice in this chapter. Expectations exceeded, indeed.

The moment that Dumbledore reached the bank he let his wand hand fall; the ring of fire vanished, but the Inferi did not emerge again from the water.

Okay? Why not?

What’s the use of fish zombies if they’re not even going to pursue the intruders?

‘Don’t worry, sir,’ said Harry at once, anxious about Dumbledore’s extreme pallor and his air of exhaustion. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll get us back … lean on me, sir …’

And pulling Dumbledore’s uninjured arm around his shoulders, Harry guided his headmaster back around the lake, bearing most of his weight.

Grunt. I’ve been saying he’s a grunt since Book One.

‘The protection was … after all … well designed,’ said Dumbledore faintly.

You’re an idiot.

Harry wiped his grazed forearm upon the stone: having received its tribute of blood the archway reopened instantly. They crossed the outer cave and Harry helped Dumbledore back into the icy sea water that filled the crevice in the cliff.

So basically… Tommy’s most prized possession is something you can just waltz in and take if you’re determined and talented enough?

‘It’s going to be all right, sir,’ Harry said over and over again, more worried by Dumbledore’s silence than he had been by his weakened voice. ‘We’re nearly there … I can Apparate us both back … don’t worry …’

You can’t apparate to Hogwarts, Harry.

‘I am not worried, Harry,’ said Dumbledore, his voice a little stronger despite the freezing water. ‘I am with you.’

You know, that sentence would be better if either of them had earned it — Harry by actually being halfway helpful and Dumbles by not being a complete grooming creep. And if they were, in fact, close. At all. But they aren’t. As it is, that face shall suffice.

Harry’s spell count so far: twenty-seven.

‘Harry — you’re a great wizard, you know.’

How are there still four chapters left?

Chapter Twenty-five – The Seer Overheard

Okay, so in the interest of the extremely unlikely but possible future readers of these posts, I’ll just copy-paste my comment from the previous day so it doesn’t get lost:

You see, that’s the problem and people still don’t seem to get that fundamental problem in these books: Harry has wanted to and has used the cruciatus before Draco and after he goes on to use it in Book Seven on a random death eater for spitting on Minerva, iirc. When our titular character, our hero who is supposedly so full of love, uses the cruciatus curse willy-nilly — even if it is “only” against death eaters — then why should I care about Draco trying to use it too? Especially when the spell Harry used was observably worse. At least the cruciatus wouldn’t have killed Harry — and let’s be real, it probably wouldn’t even have done any more damage than Harry’s cruciatus on Bellatrix did — but the sectumsempra had a real chance of killing Draco if Severus hadn’t got there fast enough.

Moreover, James was torturing Severus for their entire time in school. He might not have used the cruciatus — which isn’t even a freaking “unforgivable” as these books constantly demonstrate and evidently not even “illegal” since no one actually gets into legal trouble for using it — but he was, in fact, torturing him. In front of the entire student body. The Weasley Twins effectively tortured Dudley with the ton-tongue toffee. If I’m not supposed to care about those instances then, again, why should I care about Draco trying to use the cruciatus? On a brat who has done nothing but hate him for being loved, threaten him for trinkets that aren’t even Harry’s and attack him for words?

Like, I literally couldn’t care less what Draco antis say. Anyone who is determined to hate something will find reasons for it even if those reasons are brainless. There’s a very specific reason why I keep saying that hating Draco is a litmus test on intelligence and reading comprehension.

And yes, Harry had a right to self-defence but there is also “excessive use of force in self-defence” which is not a right. For example, Harry could’ve just as well used a protego or his trademark spell, the expelliarmus, and left the bathroom to de-escalate the situation. But apparently only Tommy, the actual murderer of Harry’s parents, deserves the use of expelliarmus and not our vile little death eater runt. Never mind that the defence of “self-defence” is sketchy in this instance anyway since Harry specifically went to the bathroom to at least confront Draco and he has a history of assaulting him. At which point the question would be less “so it was self-defence?” and more “why did you go there in the first place”?

Oh, and lest I forget: Rowling has been doing this bait-and-switch since Book One. She has one of her “good characters” do something absolutely hideous — Hagrid attacking a terrified child, Ron and Harry bullying Draco before he’s done anything, James and Sirius torturing Severus, the Weasley Twins torturing Dudley, Dumbles grooming Harry to die, Harry using the sectumsempra after Draco said “cruci” — and she’s proactively and retroactively justified said behaviour so the average Harry Potter enjoyer won’t think about it. And I’m absolutely sick of it. So at this point? I wouldn’t have cared even if Draco’s crucio had succeeded and worked.

Again, the problem isn’t each individual “he said, he did”; it’s narrative dissonance and Rowling’s horseshit writing.

Not to mention if Harry’s sectumsempra is “self-defence” then why isn’t Draco’s crucio “self-defence” just as well? Draco got snuck up on by the kid who actually has a history of attacking him. They were both hurling hexes at each other. The only thing Draco did in retaliation to those numerous times when he was group assaulted was breaking Harry’s nose and even that was for Draco’s dad, not himself. You know, instead of sending the Boy Wonder gift-wrapped to Tommy so they could carve him up and feast over his corpse. (I am not that serious about that last sentence in case someone didn’t either catch or get that.)

Also, an important distinction between Harry’s and Draco’s cruciatus curses: the narrative didn’t even let Draco follow through on his, unlike Harry whose cruciatus always hits. So essentially Draco, yet again, gets attacked for words.

Why should I judge Draco for what he tried to do when ev! i! dent! ly! I’m not even supposed to judge these characters for what they actually are doing.

And you know, since the only actual theme in these books is that Discrimination and Dehumanisation Are Okay Depending on Who Is Doing It and Whom They’re Doing It To then the only proper answer when some nitwit average Harry Potter enjoyer brings up that a “bad character” said or did X is: “lol. lmao even. and?”

Why should anyone even bother wasting their time justifying what Draco, for example, says or does when evidently the nitwit average Harry Potter enjoyer has already embraced Rowling’s only actual theme and doesn’t care a whit what her darling pets get up to. Not to mention that all of these characters say and do the exact same things so it literally doesn’t matter what “he said, he did”. They’re all caricatures of each other. So why should I care when the “bad character” says or does the exact same thing the “good character” has already said or done, multiple times, without any consequences?

Why. Should. I. Care?

And it really is a fucking laugh riot that Draco almost gets eviscerated to death when all Tommy — who actually murdered Harry’s parents — gets is an expelliarmus.

STRAWMAN: Yeah, but the spell said ‘for enemies’ and Harry didn’t know any spells ‘for enemies’ before then.

Harry got a practical demonstration of the killing curse in Book Four and even then the only spell he thought to use in the graveyard was expelliarmus as if that’s going to do any good when he’s facing Tommy and surrounded by death eaters. But sure, he totally has a “furious desire for revenge”, that brainless brat.

Moreover, the unforgivables. I get what Rowling was trying to do with them; she was trying to say that killing, torture and control are bad so she presented them in their “purest forms” and named them “unforgivables” — and then. And then.

That woman couldn’t even do that much right.

Severus.

Dudley.

Draco.

Montague.

Bartemius Jr.

Quirrell.

Molly.

Harry.

James.

Sirius.

Lupin.

Love potions.

Luck potions.

Severus gets tortured throughout his entire school life and almost murdered for the great offence of wanting to be in the same house as his mum. And because some pureblood prick got obsessed with a mudblood bint.

Dudley gets tortured and almost suffocated to death with the ton-tongue toffee.

Draco gets smacked against stone walls and floors when he’s terrified, and later almost eviscerated to death.

Montague almost gets starved to death for trying to dock house points from the Sociopathic Twins.

Bartemius Jr gets the soul sucked out of him and there hasn’t been a word mentioned of him since. Where is he? Is he wasting to death in some damp cell? Is he already dead?

Quirrell gets boiled to death and Harry had a direct albeit unwitting “self-defence” hand in it and not a word was said about it afterwards. That brainless brat doesn’t even so much as get uncomfortable thinking about Quirrell if he thinks about him at all. You would think that killing someone, no matter how unwittingly in self-defence, would at least deserve a word but nope.

Molly kills Bellatrix and I don’t even remember if she used avada kedavra or some other spell?

Harry gets to use the cruciatus curse willy-nilly without any actual magical, legal or narrative consequences.

James gets to torture a single student the entire time he’s in school just to blackmail a girl into dating him, threatens her with hexes if she acts uppity and tries to put a stop to it, and he actually gets married to the same girl.

Sirius gets to almost murder a kid he’s torturing because his best friend is torturing him because, well, gosh, Sirius is just so handsome and tortured and Severus is distinctly not.

Lupin almost eats a kid his friends were torturing and then dismisses it as a joke, a schoolboy grudge and a trick. And instead of ever apologising to Severus at any point he so deigns, he goes on to undermine his authority when they’re colleagues and yet again makes him a laughingstock in the school.

Love potions and luck potions are potions of control, and not a thing is said about them. The love potion is treated as a joke and the luck potion as a deus ex machina because Harry is utterly fucking useless as a protagonist.

I mean, the unforgivables don’t even have any magical, legal or narrative consequences — except apparently for Draco who didn’t even get to use his. Narratively Rowling treats them like any other fucking spell, they just have more “edgy” names.

So to repeat, again: all of these problems and complaints boil down to the singular fact that Rowling. is. not. a. good. writer. She’s an absolutely, infuriatingly terrible writer. She’s so terrible that I actually had to come up with two (almost) new terms to capture what the fuck is wrong with her writing.

So I literally do not care what some nitwit average Harry Potter enjoyer or Draco antis have to say about anything Harry Potter related.

Disliking Draco is a litmus test on intelligence and reading comprehension.

I mean, this is not that complicated.

And for the love of gods and Muses, read some other, better books.

The fact that Harry Potter was going out with Ginny Weasley seemed to interest a great number of people, most of them girls, yet Harry found himself newly and happily impervious to gossip over the next few weeks.

But not enough to, you know, not make a mention of it.

Also, really though? Because I most certainly am more interested in the totally non-existing love story between Ginny and Ron than anything that’s happening between Ginny and Harry.

After all, it made a very nice change to be talked about because of something that was making him happier than he could remember being for a very long time, rather than because he had been involved in horrific scenes of Dark magic.

So again, he’s “impervious” but not impervious enough to not notice and mention it. Okay then.

‘You’d think people had better things to gossip about,’ said Ginny, as she sat on the common-room floor, leaning against Harry’s legs and reading the Daily Prophet.

So… Ginny does not get a single scene of them interacting alone. She does not get a single description or reaction after their first kiss. And then we actually start this chapter with her literally sitting at Harry’s feet.

Ginnyyyy, please rather date your brother than this total gremlin.

Half a dozen boys were sitting around Slughorn, all on harder or lower seats than his, and all in their mid-teens.

Tallest of them all was a noble-looking wizard with his wand pointing straight up in the air. Grouped around him were a beautiful witch, a centaur, a goblin and a house-elf. The last three were all looking adoringly up at the witch and wizard.

I mean, it’s basically this but Ginny is supposed to be Harry’s One True Love.

‘Three Dementor attacks in a week, and all Romilda Vane does is ask me if it’s true you’ve got a Hippogriff tattooed across your chest.’

Ron and Hermione both roared with laughter. Harry ignored them.

‘What did you tell her?’

‘I told her it’s a Hungarian Horntail,’ said Ginny, turning a page of the newspaper idly. ‘Much more macho.’

Three dementor attacks in a week and we’re actually stuck at Hogwarts, having this conversation.

‘Thanks,’ said Harry, grinning. ‘And what did you tell her Ron’s got?’

‘A Pygmy Puff, but I didn’t say where.’

How did Ron enter the conversation?

Also, Ron/Ginny proofs~ Ginny’s pet is a pygmy puff, named Arnold which is actually an anagram of Ronald, ha ha ha ha, oh my god, aaaand she apparently placed Ron’s non-existing tattoo in an intimate place in her mind. Maybe I am wrong! Maybe Rowling was writing a tragic incestuous love story between Ginny and Ron!

It’s actually kind of sad that one of the few times I have fun re-reading these books is when I come up with these dumb things. Now I just have to work them in a fic, though.

And what happened to Arnold, come to think of it? It hasn’t been mentioned since — Book Five?

Ron scowled as Hermione rolled around laughing.

I have a really hard time imagining Hermione rolling around laughing unless Rowling learned some internet slang while writing this book.

‘“Your permission”,’ scoffed Ginny. ‘Since when did you give me permission to do anything? Anyway, you said yourself you’d rather it was Harry than Michael or Dean.’

But why?

Harry literally had zero interest in Ginny before this book and he doesn’t have all that much interest in her even in this book.

And funny, “rather it was Harry than Michael or Dean” and yet Ginny didn’t actually start dating Harry until this book.

‘What if he doesn’t want to ask her?’ said Ron, who had been watching Harry with an unusually shrewd expression on his face.

Like, this back in Book Five seemed to imply that “Ron knows that Harry totally likes his sister for reals instead of Cho” so he probably mentioned it to Ginny too? And yet she wasn’t actually interested in pursuing the matter. But as far as I’m concerned, Ginny got over her crush at the end of Book Two. Because after the end of Book Two, she acts nothing like at the start of Book Two.

And I guess it’s easier for Ron to give up his little sister whom he loves to Harry since he’s given up everything else to Harry as well.

‘Yeah, I would,’ said Ron grudgingly. ‘And just as long as you don’t start snogging each other in public –’

‘You filthy hypocrite! What about you and Lavender, thrashing around like a pair of eels all over the place?’ demanded Ginny.

More Ginny/Ron proofs~.

While Ron is willing to let Ginny date Harry — because better Harry than some total stranger who isn’t even a boy wonder — he also doesn’t want to see them intimate (even though I seriously doubt how intimate these two morons would be). And Ginny is still smarting and jealous about Ron being all over Lavender.

They are totally having a secret talk about their secret feelings in front of their friends~.

And if anyone deserves to be cuckolded by the (totally non-existing) incestuous love story between his “girlfriend” and “best friend”, it’s Harry.

But Ron’s tolerance was not to be tested much as they moved into June, for Harry and Ginny’s time together was becoming increasingly restricted.

No. I am shocked. Rowling has spent so much time showing us their relationship too!

On one such evening, when Ginny had retired to the library and Harry was sitting beside the window in the common room, supposedly finishing his Herbology homework . . .

You know, Harry, I’m sure this is, like, a novel idea for you since you’re so used to copying everything from Hermione and you avoid the library like the plague but why not study together with your girlfriend?

. . . but in reality reliving a particularly happy hour he had spent down by the lake with Ginny at lunch-time . . .

And Rowling, you can actually show this stuff at any time you like? Especially when nothing is happening in this book anyway.

Okay, here’s the thing. Harry is pretty much an unreliable narrator. I’m not saying he’s a particularly well-written unreliable narrator but he basically is one. So the very fact that Rowling absolutely refuses to show any of his interactions with Ginny is highly suspect.

Like, Harry is a complete self-centred idiot. He paid more attention to everyone else in the room than he did to Ginny after he kissed her. He probably wouldn’t even have noticed if Ginny wasn’t kissing him back, likewise he probably wouldn’t notice that Ginny isn’t happy with him because she’s in love with her brother.

Only the previous day, Hermione had told him off for distracting Ginny when she ought to be working hard for her examinations.

SHOW, ROWLING. DON’T TELL.

Like, she’s wasting all these trees and pages on this vapid teenage relationship drama anyway and yet she can’t even show any of it between Harry and Ginny.

…..maybe because even I can’t imagine how Harry would “distract” anyone and least of all his girlfriend?

‘I’m not dropping it,’ said Hermione firmly, ‘until you’ve heard me out. Now, I’ve been trying to find out a bit about who might make a hobby of inventing Dark spells –’

Loads of wizards? There’s a portrait of some dude who invented the entrail-expelling curse — at a hospital.

‘He, he – who says it’s a he?’

Hermione, shut up. You don’t care about women any more than you care about muggles or house-elves so shut the fuck up.

‘Right!’ said Hermione, red patches blazing in her cheeks as she pulled a very old piece of newsprint out of her pocket and slammed it down on the table in front of Harry.

Oh my god! Our very first instance of legitimate investigation! And of course it came from Hermione, the Exposition Device.

Harry picked up the crumbling piece of paper and stared at the moving photograph, yellowed with age; Ron leaned over for a look, too. The picture showed a skinny girl of around fifteen. She was not pretty . . .

And of course our Boy Wonder — with his stupendous ability to love — informs us first that Severus’ mum wasn’t pretty.

‘Her name was Eileen Prince. Prince, Harry.’

They looked at each other and Harry realised what Hermione was trying to say. He burst out laughing.

‘No way.’

‘What?’

‘You think she was the Half-Blood …? Oh, come on.’

Well, Harry, considering how consistently wrong you’re about everything, I’d just take Hermione’s word for it.

‘The truth is that you don’t think a girl would have been clever enough,’ said Hermione angrily.

‘How can I have hung round with you for five years and not think girls are clever?’ said Harry, stung by this.

Because you’re a thoroughly self-centred twerp who has never actually appreciated Hermione or cleverness?

Not that I can blame him for not appreciating Hermione because, ha ha, well… I want Hermione to die.

‘It’s the way he writes. I just know the Prince was a bloke, I can tell. This girl hasn’t got anything to do with it.’

And look, there he is being wrong again.

‘She’s just never got over you outperforming her in Potions,’ said Ron, returning to his copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.

The only reason why Harry “outperformed” Hermione in Potions was because Harry had better instructions.

But considering what an abysmal job he kept doing with the normal instructions, which Hermione managed perfectly, I’m surprised even “Prince’s” tips helped.

Also, I will never get over the stupidity of Severus not teaching these better ways to make potions to his students. Okay, no. I’m getting very, very irritable again when I think about that so out of mind.

‘Course not,’ said Ron robustly. ‘He was a genius, the Prince.’

Yes, such a genius that he never actually taught his better ways to make potions just so Rowling could have this completely harebrained mystery in this book — and oh my god, out of mind didn’t work.

‘I mean, I’m not saying that spell you used on Malfoy was great –’

‘Nor am I,’ said Harry quickly.

Oh my god.

‘But he healed all right, didn’t he? Back on his feet in no time.’

‘Yeah,’ said Harry; this was perfectly true, although his conscience squirmed slightly all the same. ‘Thanks to Snape …’

Oh my fucking god.

SHOW, ROWLING. DON’T TELL.

What an utter hack.

‘You still got detention with Snape this Saturday?’ Ron continued.

‘Yeah, and the Saturday after that, and the Saturday after that,’ sighed Harry. ‘And he’s hinting now that if I don’t get all the boxes done by the end of term, we’ll carry on next year.’

He was finding these detentions particularly irksome because they cut into the already limited time he could have been spending with Ginny.

OH YES. HIS “CONSCIENCE” IS CERTAINLY “SQUIRMING”. Slightly.

For the love of gods with that absolutely unserious hack.

Indeed, he had frequently wondered lately whether Snape did not know this, for he was keeping Harry later and later every time, while making pointed asides about Harry having to miss the good weather and the varied opportunities it offered.

I certainly hope he is because Severus, like I, want to see you miserable.

Harry was shaken from these bitter reflections by the appearance at his side of Jimmy Peakes, who was holding out a scroll of parchment.

‘Thanks, Jimmy … hey, it’s from Dumbledore!’ said Harry excitedly . . .

Owls? Hedwig?

Like? Does Dumbles seriously accost these random students so they can pass his messages to Harry? Because that old creep certainly isn’t creepy enough?

He hurried out of the common room and along the seventh floor as fast as he could, passing nobody but Peeves, who swooped past in the opposite direction, throwing bits of chalk at Harry in a routine sort of way and cackling loudly as he dodged Harry’s defensive jinx.

Why is this creature at this school? Or is he supposed to be the Harry Potter equivalent of Gollum?

. . . and saw Professor Trelawney sprawled upon the floor, her head covered in one of her many shawls, several sherry bottles lying beside her, one broken.

Ah, yes. But it was totally Dolores who made her — frankly rightful — firing a spectacle. *massive eye roll*

Harry hurried forwards and helped Professor Trelawney to her feet. Some of her glittering beads had become entangled with her glasses. She hiccoughed loudly, patted her hair and pulled herself up on Harry’s helping arm.

And like… why… I mean, why are they keeping this drunkard at school?

She’s getting wasted and embarrassing herself in front of students.

Oh, right. Hogwarts doesn’t care about measly murder attempts on its students, so why would it care about rampant alcoholism in its staff either.

‘I – well,’ said Professor Trelawney, drawing her shawls around her defensively and staring down at him with her vastly magnified eyes. ‘I wished to – ah – deposit certain – um – personal items in the Room …’ And she muttered something about ‘nasty accusations’.

‘Right,’ said Harry, glancing down at the sherry bottles.

She wants to hide her alcohol.

And yet she’s still a teacher at this school.

Okay.

He found this very odd; the Room had opened for him, after all, when he had wanted to hide the Half-Blood Prince’s book.

Yes, Harry, but that’s because the plot demanded it. And Sybill has this unfortunate, small flaw of not being you.

‘I don’t know that it was saying anything,’ said Professor Trelawney. ‘It was … whooping.’

‘Whooping?’

‘Gleefully,’ she said, nodding.

Oh my god.

Draco whoops.

He’s too precious and cute.

The rest of these characters can go die in a fire, though.

Also, in the previous books Draco’s plans actually were simple and good. Invite Harry to a midnight duel, tip Argus off, get the Boy Who Failed expelled or at least in detention. Get slashed by a hippogriff, make proper use of it to get out of things you don’t want to do. Ask Peeves to wake up Harry hideously early on the day of his quidditch match (though, to be fair, this is just a headcanon), make the Boy Who Failed fail the match. Dress up as dementors to distract the Boy Moron long enough that Cho might catch the snitch. Etc.

Rowling just didn’t let them work. In this book, however, all of his plans have been needlessly complicated and needlessly relying on other people. Like, why… exactly has he been working on this cabinet? He was tasked to kill Dumbles. So he — or someone else — imperiuses Rosmerta who imperiuses Katie so she will carry a cursed necklace to the school while Argus is checking all comings and goings? When that doesn’t work, he poisons Slughorn’s mead on the off-chance that Dumbles will drink it? Well, okay, that second one was actually a good idea but he should’ve remembered that Slughorn is a complete hedonist who’d rather keep treats to himself. And on top of all that, he’s been working on a cabinet for a year so he can get death eaters to the school when, as all the previous books have shown us, they could’ve just as well walked through the front doors? And for what purpose exactly? It’s not like it counts if one of the death eaters kills Dumbles for him?

I mean, obviously the real reason is that Draco didn’t actually have it in him to murder — unlike the Boy Wonder who took his first life at eleven *cough* — so he was trying to weasel his way out of it while trying to do it at the same time. Why he couldn’t just let Severus do it then is beyond me, though, but I guess Bellatrix or Tommy did say something to him.

‘No, it did not,’ she said. ‘Everything went pitch black and the next thing I knew, I was being hurled headfirst out of the Room!’

I’m just going to headcanon that the room actually likes Draco. Gods know that not enough people in these books do.

‘The Headmaster has intimated that he would prefer fewer visits from me,’ she said coldly. ‘I am not one to press my company upon those who do not value it. If Dumbledore chooses to ignore the warnings the cards show –’

Why does everyone treat her like a total joke? Well, I mean, aside from her showmanship and rampant alcoholism?

She totally used to be a carnie, didn’t she?

‘Oh, well, in that case,’ said Professor Trelawney with a smile. She bent down, scooped up her sherry bottles and dumped them unceremoniously in a large blue and white vase standing in a nearby niche.

‘Perhaps the horse has heard people say that I have not inherited my great-great-grandmother’s gift.’

No seriously, someone explain to me, in very tiny words, why is it okay for Hermione and Sybill to call Firenze a horse but it’s not okay for Dolores to call them half-breeds, which is less offensive than a horse, or Draco to call Hermione a mudblood? After she dissed him first.

‘Would Dumbledore have let me teach at this great school, put so much trust in me all these years, had I not proved myself to him?’

Well, the only reason why you’re there is because you were unexpectedly useful and Dumbles didn’t want Tommy to get his hands on you. Never mind the acquired taste Dumbles has in his staff.

‘… but then we were rudely interrupted by Severus Snape!’

What a shocking plot twist! *monotone*

‘Dumbledore did me the courtesy of calling upon me in my room at the inn. He questioned me … I must confess that, at first, I thought he seemed ill-disposed towards Divination …’

‘Well, after that, you know, Dumbledore seemed much more disposed to give me a job . . .’

What a shock. *monotone*

It was Snape who had overheard the prophecy. It was Snape who had carried the news of the prophecy to Voldemort. Snape and Peter Pettigrew together had sent Voldemort hunting after Lily and James and their son …

And Dumbles. *sotto voce*

‘You stay here,’ said Harry through numb lips.

‘You stay here!’ Harry repeated angrily.

Ha ha. Oh look, he’s so cool that he talks to professors like this and doesn’t get punished. But sure, keep telling me how Harry is “rebellious” when the entire fucking world enables and rewards his “rebellion”.

For a moment or two, Harry did not understand; the conversation with Trelawney had driven everything else out of his head and his brain seemed to be moving very slowly.

Well, Harry, if we’re totally honest, that happens all the time to you. There’s only enough room for one thing at a time in that little pea you call a brain.

‘I’m not scared!’ said Harry at once, and it was perfectly true; fear was one emotion he was not feeling at all.

Ah yes, because our dimwit protagonist is so special that “what he fears the most is — fear”.

Even though dementors are manifestations of depression and boggarts are manifestations of fear.

*takes a deep breath*

*exhales*

These books make me want to chew walls.

‘I am not sure which it is – though I think we can rule out the snake – but I believe it to be hidden in a cave on the coast many miles from here, a cave I have been trying to locate for a very long time: the cave in which Tom Riddle once terrorised two children from his orphanage on their annual trip; you remember?’

Why is everything taking you a ‘very long time’?

‘I do not know; I have suspicions that may be entirely wrong.’ Dumbledore hesitated, then said, ‘Harry, I promised you that you could come with me, and I stand by that promise, but it would be very wrong of me not to warn you that this will be exceedingly dangerous.’

Oh cry me a fucking river, you old creep. How does that differ from all the other years at Hogwarts?

Boiling with anger at Snape, his desire to do something desperate and risky had increased tenfold in the last few minutes.

So how does that differ from the usual?

‘Just now!’ said Harry, who was refraining from yelling with enormous difficulty. And then, suddenly, he could not stop himself. ‘AND YOU LET HIM TEACH HERE AND HE TOLD VOLDEMORT TO GO AFTER MY MUM AND DAD!’

Harry.

Dumbles also let Quirrell, Hagrid, Lupin, Fake-Moody, Dolores and Sybill teach there.

Why is this such a shock to you?

And you know what this means? It means that Dumbles was, yet again, withholding pertinent information from Harry for his own ends and it never occurred to Harry to ask. Like, “okay, who was it eavesdropping behind the door” or “who tipped off Tommy”?

But then, to be fair, even if Harry had asked, Dumbles probably would’ve just twinkled at him and gone, “That’s an answer for another time” and Harry would’ve just been like, “Okay. Durr.”

But sure, Harry, keep telling me how other people don’t have enough brains to fill an eggcup.

‘Please let me finish.’ Dumbledore waited until Harry had nodded curtly, then went on. ‘Professor Snape made a terrible mistake. He was still in Lord Voldemort’s employ on the night he heard the first half of Professor Trelawney’s prophecy. Naturally, he hastened to tell his master what he had heard, for it concerned his master most deeply. But he did not know – he had no possible way of knowing – which boy Voldemort would hunt from then onwards, or that the parents he would destroy in his murderous quest were people that Professor Snape knew, that they were your mother and father –’

Oh my god, Dumbles, what happened to the whole “I shall not, of course, lie”.

Harry let out a yell of mirthless laughter.

‘He hated my dad like he hated Sirius! Haven’t you noticed, Professor, how the people Snape hates tend to end up dead?’

And?

What happens to the people you hate?

And statistically everyone dies eventually, even people someone else hates.

‘You have no idea of the remorse Professor Snape felt when he realised how Lord Voldemort had interpreted the prophecy, Harry. I believe it to be the greatest regret of his life and the reason that he returned –’

You know, my first instinct is that Dumbles is lying through his teeth but I can believe that Severus regretted getting Lily at least killed. Why though is beyond me.

‘Professor … how can you be sure Snape’s on our side?’

It’s called guilt-tripping and gaslighting, Harry. I thought you already knew the tricks of the trade.

‘We have discussed this, Harry,’ said Dumbledore, and now he sounded stern again. ‘I have told you my views.’

No you have not, you old creep. What you did, in fact, say was call Harry an idiot in not so many words which — which was honestly glorious, I’m not even going to lie, ha ha.

‘To what?’ asked Dumbledore, his eyebrows raised. ‘What is it that you suspect them of doing, precisely?’

‘I … they’re up to something!’ said Harry and his hands curled into fists as he said it.

You know, even though Harry is right for once, this is basically the exact same problem he had with Ron in Book Four.

RON: Why?

HARRY: Hurr durr, I dunno?

Which is why, kids, we do this little thing called investigating before we bring up suspicions to other people so we’ll actually have this little thing called proof.

‘Do you think that I have once left the school unprotected during my absences this year?’

Um.

Yes.

All of the previous books would very much like to disagree with you.

Quirrell. Tommy. The diary. Tommy. Petrificious snake. Man-eating venomous spiders. Peter. Dementors. Fake-Moody. Triwizard tournament of stupidity and child murder. Dragon. Three-headed dog. Hagrid. Giant. Dolores. Lupin. James. Sirius.

Do I forget something?

Hell, even in this book he isn’t doing anything about anything even when he is there.

‘Tonight, when I leave, there will again be additional protection in place. Please do not suggest that I do not take the safety of my students seriously, Harry.’

What “additional protection”?

And Dumbles, please, you’ve never demonstrably taken the safety of your students seriously.

‘I take you with me on one condition: that you obey any command I might give you at once, and without question.’

So how does that differ from the usual?

‘Very good. Then I wish you to go and fetch your Cloak and meet me in the Entrance Hall in five minutes’ time.’

Ha ha, it didn’t occur to Harry to get his cloak himself before he left. Oh my god, that kid is so stupid.

HARRY: By golly! what would I need the invisibility cloak for in a forbidden forest riddled with dark creatures!

‘Use anyone else who you can rustle up from the DA. Hermione, those contact Galleons will still work, right?’

Even if those contact galleons will still work, who would look at them since you haven’t used them for a year?

Because.

“What would they need the DA for anymore since they got Umbridge kicked out”?

What, indeed.

Is Rowling, like, allergic to writing her characters actually doing — anything? Anything at all?

Well, aside from the splendid sport of quidditch.

And it’s not like they practise for that dumb fucking sport either.

‘You need what’s wrapped in them, it’s the Felix Felicis. Share it between yourselves and Ginny too.’

Between yourselves and Ginny too.

Ha ha, somehow that’s so funny. She still sounds like an afterthought than an actual part of the group.

‘I’ll be fine, I’ll be with Dumbledore,’ said Harry.

Uh huh. Sure. Whatever.

The rest was blah blah blah, let’s walk to Hogsmeade to apparate.

Harry’s spell count so far: twenty-four.

‘Harry — you’re a great wizard, you know.’

Chapter Twenty-four – Sectumsempra

So… We go from the chapter in which Dumbles was polishing Harry’s knob for his stupendous ability to love to the chapter in which Harry almost eviscerates another student to death, cares more about an inanimate book than said almost death, and then proceeds to spend his sun-filled days kissing Ginny Weasley, essentially getting rewarded for almost murdering someone?

Ha ha ha.

You can’t make this shite up.

You know which Harry Potter characters actually make me believe — observably — in the “overwhelming redemptive power of love”? Because it’s certainly not Harry; Harry just makes me think he’s going to be the next useless despot of this world, seductive dark arts or no seductive dark arts (never mind that the kid does have a proclivity and affinity for the unforgivables — hello, cruciatus!).

It’s the Dursleys and the Malfoys. Completely unironically.

You see, it’s evident that Rowling wanted the readers to dislike the Dursleys and the Malfoys so she didn’t bother writing them as anything more than caricatures or give them a few if any redeeming qualities.

Except.

Their love for each other.

And judging from Rowling’s hitherto stellar writing — such as ‘That suggests that what you fear most of all is — fear’ — I suspect this was rather unintentional on her part. After all, she quite obviously wants the reader to believe in Harry’s stupendous ability to love when very few things in Harry’s observable behaviour actually show it.

“Tommy killed my parents,” Harry says, as if that means anything when Rowling has not once shown that Harry actually cares about his parents — aside from what he gets out of their deaths. “He killed my parents, remember!” he yells when he wants Ron and Hermione to get in line. “He murdered them,” he says remorselessly when he wants something out of Slughorn.

I also doubt Tommy would join a dark lord who killed his parents any more than Harry, not because of any sentiments of love but because of pride.

“That’s because you have the ability to love,” says Dumbledore when what the death of Harry’s parents really means was their love for Harry, not the other way around.

This might sound cold, but Harry doesn’t know his parents. He isn’t interested in knowing his parents. He has not once asked anyone — of his own agency, that is — about his parents. He doesn’t love them. He might love them as a “concept” — “his mother was not here to die for him this time” — but I would hardly qualify that as love. As opposed to the observable behaviour of the Dursleys and the Malfoys; Vernon who always puts himself bodily between a threat and his family, no matter how seemingly futile, or the Malfoys who are willing to kill and defy dark lords for each other.

Harry certainly didn’t love Cedric either. He spent most of Book Four disparaging Cedric because of a girl, or doing nothing when his housemates were bullying Cedric because of a girl, but suddenly when Cedric died it’s lo and behold, he cares.

Just like the Hogwarts students who kindly turned around from their mass-ostracising ways when Harry almost died in Book One. This is why the group assault at the end of Book Four was utterly ridiculous; I can get the hufflepuffs but the gryffindors? Get off your self-righteous high horse and go jump in a lake, you hypocritic lot.

And even after that we were not shown Harry caring. In fact, Cedric’s death was mostly used for him to flirt with Cho in Book Five — you know, right until Cho turned out to be an actual person with her own interests and feelings instead of a concept of Harry Worship. “He had liked Cho for ages, but whenever he had imagined a scene involving the two of them it had always featured a Cho who was enjoying herself, as opposed to a Cho who was sobbing uncontrollably into his shoulder.” And when she turned out to be not what Harry had imagined or wanted? It was all about laughing at her friend’s permanent scarring.

Even in this book when Harry finally, supposedly falls in love with Ginny — his One True Love! — he never actually interacts alone with her or shows interest in her as a person. Rowling managed to write Harry interacting with Cho alone — no matter how rare, brief or shoddy the interaction. And yet she supposedly can’t do the same for Ginny? In a book in which absolutely nothing is happening? Instead, it’s all just love potions — that is, potions of obsession and control — and luck potions — that is, potions of control — and obliquely implied wet dreams and “chest monsters”. Which, by the way, “purrs in agreement” when Ron implies Ginny is a slut in not so many words.

Harry does not love Ginny any more than James loved Lily.

The only one whom Harry demonstrably, observably loves is Ron. And even that isn’t saying a lot after Book Three.

So for a kid whose power was supposed to be his “ability to love” Rowling certainly hasn’t had him exhibit a whole lot of it. Not to mention there’s just — something patronisingly disgusting about the implication that Harry’s “ability to love after what he’s gone through” — aka trauma and the Dursleys — is somehow a “superpower”. What if he hadn’t lost his parents? What if he hadn’t been raised by the Dursleys? Is his “ability to love” then somehow less than his “ability to love” after trauma? Well, if we look at Draco whose only crime in his first scene was that he’s loved by his parents the answer is apparently yes.

Trauma. is. not. a. superpower. It does not make you strong, it does not make you brave, it does not make you good or more worthy. Unprocessed trauma manifests in two different ways: either you hurt yourself or you hurt others. And now, with that in mind, look at Harry’s observable behaviour and tell me he’s just chock full of love because of or in spite of his trauma. The kid demonstrably enjoys other people’s fear, discomfort and panic. His first instinct for anger or hurt is to torture the source of it. He hates people who haven’t even done anything to him more than he hates people who made his life miserable — Draco/Dudley, Severus/Dolores, etc.

Never mind that “love” can be just as monstrous and tyrannical as the lack of it. Hence, Dumbles and Tommy are two sides of the same shitty coin.

Furthermore~ since I’m apparently not done: so Harry’s “superpower” is that he’s still capable of love “after what he’s gone through” — aka trauma and the Dursleys. So in other words… Harry’s “superpower” is being normal? So not only does Harry get credit for existing, he also gets credit for being normal? Unless, of course, Rowling is implying the hilarious unfortunate implication that being capable of love after trauma isn’t normal — hence, Harry is special?

…..ha ha ha.

Well, this is the same woman who implied that long-term depression makes you soulless and evil, and is busily having an old gay man groom a vulnerable neglected child to die.

People really chose a real trip for the greatest children’s book of the century.

And evidently I’m still not done talking about the sheer stupidity of the previous chapter. So Harry is special because he’s still capable of love after trauma, right? Okay, why isn’t everyone in this world special then? As we’ve established throughout the books, almost all of these characters have been neglected. Almost all of them have been abused. Almost all of them have trauma. And almost all of them went through that “war” sixteen years prior?

Severus’ father was abusive and he was tormented in school; Severus still loved Lily and he cares about the dunderheads even if he doesn’t necessarily like them. Lupin was essentially violated as a child and he changes into a mindless beast every month as a result of it; he still loved Nymphadora and presumably his friends. Sirius’ homelife was implied to be abusive(?) and he sat in an inhumane jail for twelve years for something he didn’t do; he still loved James and he cared about Harry even if that didn’t have the time to mature into love. Neville’s family was dangling him outside the window and accidentally defenestrated him when they thought he was a muggle and his hag of a grandmother constantly compares him to his parents who are currently functional vegetables; he still loved Trevor, his family and presumably his wife. Percy has been bullied and excluded in his own family his entire life; he still loved Penelope and presumably his family even if they most certainly didn’t deserve it. Ron has been bullied by the Sociopathic Twins and ignored in his family his entire life; he still loves his family, friends and Hermione even if she most certainly doesn’t deserve it. Even Draco goes from a spoiled, loved kid into being group assaulted because of words and almost eviscerated to death and his assaulters get to strut about the school without consequences; he still loves his family and presumably his wife and son. Etc. Etc.

Why aren’t these characters special? What makes Harry’s trauma and his lukewarm, lackadaisical “ability to love” special?

But right, this is the same woman who implied in Book Three that Harry is the only character with any trauma in this world.

Well, since it deserves repeating: fuck these books.

They were both satisfyingly impressed by the way he had wheedled the memory out of Slughorn . . .

But why? It literally had nothing to do with Harry and everything to do with the luck potion?

Oh no, wait. Harry is special just for existing, breathing, and loving.

‘Wow,’ said Ron, when Harry had finally finished telling them everything; Ron was waving his wand very vaguely in the direction of the ceiling without paying the slightest bit of attention to what he was doing. ‘Wow. You’re actually going to go with Dumbledore … and try and destroy … wow.’

It’s really not that awe-inspiring that Harry gets to be a hanger-on for Dumbles. Gods know the kid isn’t actually going to do anything.

‘Ron, you’re making it snow,’ said Hermione patiently, grabbing his wrist and redirecting his wand away from the ceiling from which, sure enough, large white flakes had started to fall.

Oh. So the wizards can alter the weather. How quaint.

He brushed some of the fake snow off Hermione’s shoulder. Lavender burst into tears. Ron looked immensely guilty and turned his back on her.

‘We split up,’ he told Harry out of the corner of his mouth. ‘Last night. When she saw me coming out of the dormitory with Hermione. Obviously she couldn’t see you, so she thought it had just been the two of us.’

My heart hurts for Lavender. She deserved better than this.

‘No,’ Ron admitted. ‘It was pretty bad while she was yelling, but at least I didn’t have to finish it.’

Ron, when did you get to be so spineless?

Oh, right. He lost it in Book Four.

‘Coward,’ said Hermione, though she looked amused. ‘Well, it was a bad night for romance all round. Ginny and Dean split up too, Harry.’

Oh really? Dare I say, what a bloody lucky coincidence?

‘Oh, something really silly … she said he was always trying to help her through the portrait hole, like she couldn’t climb in herself … but they’ve been a bit rocky for ages.’

So Ginny is, like, one of those histrionic women who have hissy fits if a man dares to pull the chair for them?

‘The Quidditch team,’ said Hermione. ‘If Ginny and Dean aren’t speaking …’

Who cares about the quidditch team?

Who cares about any of this?

What has even been happening in this gods-forsaken book?

*stares into the abyss*

The tiny little Charms master was bobbing his way towards them and Hermione was the only one who had managed to turn vinegar into wine; her glass flask was full of deep crimson liquid, whereas the contents of Harry’s and Ron’s were still murky brown.

I am genuinely just so fucking done with these books like you wouldn’t believe.

‘Yes … for homework …’ said Professor Flitwick, re-emerging from under the table and pulling shards of glass out of the top of his hat, ‘practise.’

Oh, so they do get to practise spellwork outside of class? Will the wonders ever cease.

Neither of them seemed to have noticed that a fierce battle was raging inside Harry’s brain:

She’s Ron’s sister.

But she’s ditched Dean!

She’s still Ron’s sister.

I’m his best mate!

That’ll make it worse.

If I talked to him first –

He’d hit you.

What if I don’t care?

He’s your best mate!

Oh dear. Whatever happened to this:

He would not risk his friendship with Ron for anything.

It’s a real shame that Harry’s memory started going at thirteen.

Harry barely noticed that they were climbing through the portrait hole into the sunny common room, and only vaguely registered the small group of seventh-years clustered together there, until Hermione cried, ‘Katie! You’re back! Are you OK?’

Oh wow, I almost felt her absence. *monotone*

(Did these people even mention Katie when she was gone?)

He had to put the question to her at once; his curiosity even drove Ginny temporarily from his brain.

Well, if we’re totally honest, Harry, that doesn’t take a lot.

‘Or someone who looked like a girl or a woman,’ said Harry. ‘Don’t forget, there was a cauldronful of Polyjuice Potion at Hogwarts. We know some of it got stolen …’

Do we? I mean, do we really? Because from what I recall, you just assumed instead of investigating.

And this is the woman who went on to write crime novels. Didn’t anyone tell her that she kind of really, really fucking sucks at writing crime or detective mysteries?

Not that I’ve read them but based on Harry Potters I can just about imagine what utter clusterfucks those books were. They didn’t even sell before the pseudonym was revealed to be her.

“How are these books so bad?” asked the average Harry Potter enjoyer.

Well, I don’t know. Did you read the Potter books?

‘The situation with Slughorn was different; you always had the ability to persuade him, you just needed to tweak the circumstances a bit.’

Did he, though?

Harry pulled his copy of Advanced Potion-Making out of his bag and looked up Felix Felicis.

‘Blimey, it’s seriously complicated,’ he said, running an eye down the list of ingredients. ‘And it takes six months … you’ve got to let it stew …’

You know, regardless of how “complicated” it is to make wouldn’t both sides realistically have vats of it? Or maybe not since the potion controls the imbiber too?

Harry was about to put his book away again when he noticed the corner of a page folded down; turning to it, he saw the Sectumsempra spell, captioned ‘For Enemies’, that he had marked a few weeks previously. He had still not found out what it did, mainly because he did not want to test it around Hermione, but he was considering trying it out on McLaggen next time he came up behind him unawares.

Latin.

Dictionaries.

Or hell, maybe your good friend’s current reading material:

. . . said Hermione flatly, putting down the copy of Spellman’s Syllabary she had just taken out of her bag.

You know, honestly, Harry should’ve just used it on McLaggen and got his sorry arse kicked out for good finally. What an enormous stupid loser.

The only person who was not particularly pleased to see Katie Bell back at school was Dean Thomas, because he would no longer be required to fill her place as Chaser. He took the blow stoically enough when Harry told him, merely grunting and shrugging, but Harry had the distinct feeling as he walked away that Dean and Seamus were muttering mutinously behind his back.

Reserve players.

Like, for the love of gods, reserve players.

I honestly feel my intelligence withering as I read these stupid books.

Also~ since when has Dean wanted to play quidditch? He was always more into football. And it’s not like he’s dating Ginny anymore either?

The following fortnight saw the best Quidditch practices Harry had known as Captain. His team was so pleased to be rid of McLaggen, so glad to have Katie back at last, that they were flying extremely well.

Who. the. fuck. cares?

These books are killing me.

Ginny did not seem at all upset about the break-up with Dean; on the contrary, she was the life and soul of the team. Her imitations of Ron anxiously bobbing up and down in front of the goalposts as the Quaffle sped towards him, or of Harry bellowing orders at McLaggen before being knocked out cold, kept them all highly amused.

You know who else does impressions?

Draco.

Okay, let’s talk seriously for a moment: all of these characters? Say and do the exact same things. All of them. So where the fuck does the fandom get off liking one set of characters over the other? Especially when they just tremendously love the characters whose behaviour is demonstrably worse than the characters they’re supposed to dislike.

Disliking Draco is a litmus test on intelligence and reading comprehension.

*gets hit with a sudden thought*

??

??!!

Wait, wait, wait. Severus told Tommy about the prophecy. Severus was in love with Lily. Tommy told Lily to step aside, several times. Oh my god, don’t tell me he was playing wingman for his follower? Oh, please please let me be right because that’s the funniest thing ever.

Harry, laughing with the others, was glad to have an innocent reason to look at Ginny; he had received several more Bludger injuries during practice because he had not been keeping his eyes on the Snitch.

Too bad he didn’t crack his head, but I guess it is solid bone after all.

The battle still raged inside his head: Ginny or Ron? Sometimes he thought that the post-Lavender Ron might not mind too much if he asked Ginny out . . .

Is this the reason why Ron was so godawful to Lavender? So he couldn’t object to Harry — who was hideous to Cho — dating his little sister? I mean, Ron had a front-row seat to how Harry treated Cho. Why would he want that dating his little sister whom he loves?

. . . but then he remembered Ron’s expression when he had seen her kissing Dean, and was sure that Ron would consider it base treachery if Harry so much as held her hand …

You know, since I hate these books and I’m bored, I’m just going to assume that Ron and Ginny are in love but they can’t exactly do anything about it, what being siblings.

Harry Potters were the real tragic love story of Ginny and Ron.

Yet Harry could not help himself talking to Ginny, laughing with her, walking back from practice with her; however much his conscience ached, he found himself wondering how best to get her on her own . . .

It would be splendid to, like, actually see any of this? Especially since nothing is happening anyway.

And to complicate matters, he had the nagging worry that if he didn’t do it, somebody else was sure to ask Ginny out soon: he and Ron were at least agreed on the fact that she was too popular for her own good.

Is she, though?

All in all, the temptation to take another gulp of Felix Felicis was becoming stronger by the day, for surely this was a case for, as Hermione put it, ‘tweaking the circumstances’?

Harry, you are genuinely becoming such a disgusting creep I don’t even know if I want to write you anymore.

Seriously, even dating her brother would be better than her dating Harry. Which is why I’m going to write that Ron/Ginny fic that also goes into great detail about what a sordid person Harry is — like, any day now!

Ron was not unique in this respect; interest in the Gryffindor–Ravenclaw game was running extremely high throughout the school, for the match would decide the championship, which was still wide open.

WHO THE FUCK FUCKING CARES?

WHERE’S THE BLOODY FUCKING PLOT?

How many pages are there still left?

Thirteen.

If Gryffindor beat Ravenclaw by a margin of three hundred points (a tall order, and yet Harry had never known his team fly better) then they would win the championship.

WHO CARES?

NO, SERIOUSLY. WHO FUCKING CARES?

If they won by less than three hundred points, they would come second to Ravenclaw; if they lost by a hundred points they would be third behind Hufflepuff and if they lost by more than a hundred, they would be in fourth place and nobody, Harry thought, would ever, ever let him forget that it had been he who had captained Gryffindor to their first bottom-of-the-table defeat in two centuries.

*is reduced to incomprehensible gibbering*

WHO THE FUCK CARES?!

IS THE ONLY ONE TAKING ANYTHING SERIOUSLY IN THIS GODAWFUL BOOK THE KID WHO IS CURRENTLY WORKING FOR TOMMY?

The run-up to this crucial match had all the usual features: members of rival houses attempting to intimidate opposing teams in the corridors; unpleasant chants about individual players being rehearsed loudly as they passed; the team members themselves either swaggering around enjoying all the attention or else dashing into bathrooms between classes to throw up.

Also~ so the exact same thing that happened between gryffindors and slytherins? But we were only meant to hate slytherins for it?

Somehow, the game had become inextricably linked in Harry’s mind with success or failure in his plans for Ginny. He could not help feeling that if they won by more than three hundred points, the scenes of euphoria and a nice loud after-match party might be just as good as a hearty swig of Felix Felicis.

I am rapidly reaching the point where I want all of these characters dead.

Like, can I sue Rowling for attempted murder? Because I feel there are ample grounds for a case.

In the midst of all his preoccupations Harry had not forgotten his other ambition: finding out what Malfoy was up to in the Room of Requirement.

Oh really? Because it certainly doesn’t feel like it.

Although Harry was losing hope that he would ever succeed in getting inside the Room, he attempted it whenever he was in the vicinity, but no matter how he reworded his request, the wall remained firmly doorless.

Maybe that’s because you’re an absolute moron?

. . . and Hermione having dashed off to see Professor Vector about a mistake she thought she might have made in her last Arithmancy essay.

An arithmancy teacher named Vector. And people actually thought she was teaching muggle studies.

For a moment he could not find Malfoy anywhere, and assumed he must indeed be inside the Room of Requirement again, but then he saw Malfoy’s tiny, labelled dot standing in a boys’ bathroom on the floor below, accompanied, not by Crabbe or Goyle, but by Moaning Myrtle.

You know, I would be so much happier about the narrative getting back to Draco if I didn’t know exactly how it ends.

As it is! It’s time for a break.

Harry only stopped staring at this unlikely coupling when he walked right into a suit of armour. The loud crash brought him out of his reverie; hurrying from the scene lest Filch should turn up, he dashed down the marble staircase and along the passageway below.

Like? It’s a huge castle? What kind of acoustics does it have?

And Harry realised, with a shock so huge it seemed to root him to the spot, that Malfoy was crying – actually crying – tears streaming down his pale face into the grimy basin.

Harry, you are genuinely the stupidest fucking shit I’ve ever had the displeasure to read about.

But sure, Rowling, keep telling me how the kid is just so full of love.

Like, seriously. For fuck’s sake with that woman and her fucking tripe.

And again! I’m cussing more! When I tried to do it less! But for the love gods these books just bring it out of me. They make me feel like this all the time:

They make me want to chew walls.

I MEAN! EVEN BRAINLESS RAPE BAITS IN OTHER DISMAL WORKS OF FICTION HAVE MORE BRAINS AND SYMPATHY THAN THIS MORON.

Malfoy wheeled round, drawing his wand. Instinctively, Harry pulled out his own.

Oh please let Draco get at least one hex in, please please please.

. . . water poured everywhere and Harry slipped over as Malfoy, his face contorted, cried, ‘Cruci—’

‘SECTUMSEMPRA!’ bellowed Harry from the floor, waving his wand wildly.

So Draco literally had an ‘o’ left to say and yet Harry — our stupendously talented boy wonder who is just so full of love — somehow manages to bellow an entire sectumsempra before him?

…..I’m pretty sure this is what dying feels like.

Also~ inquiring minds want to know: would Draco’s crucio actually worked? I mean, sure Draco has accumulated plenty of stuff to hate Harry for but I’m pretty sure that hate is still… petty, for the lack of a better word. Like, he doesn’t really hate Harry viscerally considering how he carries on and mostly ignores Harry. Like, the kind of hate you’d need to really want to murder or torture someone.

Oh, and Draco did not get even one hex in.

But then, he did break the Boy Wonder’s nose so I guess I’ll take my wins where I can.

‘No –’ gasped Harry.

But yes!

And don’t worry, you enormous stupid snowflake, as if you’ll face any consequences for almost murdering someone for being an intolerable sissy.

Rowling does not put up with nerds any more than she puts up with sissies.

Slipping and staggering, Harry got to his feet and plunged towards Malfoy, whose face was now shining scarlet, his white hands scrabbling at his blood-soaked chest.

‘No – I didn’t –’

Harry did not know what he was saying; he fell to his knees beside Malfoy, who was shaking uncontrollably in a pool of his own blood.

You know, I would’ve genuinely ripped every single physical copy of these books apart if Harry’s stupid face had been the last thing Draco saw.

Moaning Myrtle let out a deafening scream.

‘MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!’

And come to think of it, I wonder how Myrtle is feeling at this moment considering she was murdered in the bathroom.

I wish she’d, like, at least slapped Harry even if it just gave him the chills.

The door banged open behind Harry and he looked up, terrified: Snape had burst into the room, his face livid.

It’s amazing how fast all these people arrive everywhere.

Pushing Harry roughly aside, he knelt over Malfoy, drew his wand and traced it over the deep wounds Harry’s curse had made, muttering an incantation that sounded almost like song. The flow of blood seemed to ease; Snape wiped the residue from Malfoy’s face and repeated his spell.

They’re so precious.

But of course Severus is just wiping the blood off Draco’s face For The Love of Saint Lily — even if by every look of it that bint most certainly didn’t even deserve it.

Harry was still watching, horrified by what he had done, barely aware that he too was soaked in blood and water.

Harry. Go fuck off.

It did not occur to Harry for a second to disobey. He stood up slowly, shaking, and looked down at the wet floor. There were bloodstains floating like crimson flowers across its surface. He could not even find it in himself to tell Moaning Myrtle to be quiet, as she continued to wail and sob with increasingly evident enjoyment.

Is this chapter almost over yet? Because I don’t think I can take this psychical damage much more.

‘I didn’t mean it to happen,’ said Harry at once. His voice echoed in the cold, watery space. ‘I didn’t know what that spell did.’

Latin.

Dictionaries.

Your swot “best friend”.

Spellman’s Syllabary.

Your indolence and utter stupidity are not fucking excuses.

‘Apparently I underestimated you, Potter,’ he said quietly. ‘Who would have thought you knew such Dark magic? Who taught you that spell?’

Aww, but I thought Harry is just so full of love that he couldn’t possibly be seduced by dark magic?

‘Bring me your schoolbag,’ said Snape softly, ‘and all of your school books. All of them. Bring them to me here. Now!’

You know, if Severus is so coldly furious about his spell getting used — especially on Draco — then how did his old schoolbook end up getting left behind at Hogwarts anyway?

He felt stunned; it was as though a beloved pet had turned suddenly savage.

Harry.

You are genuinely so fucking stupid and self-centred that I increasingly want you dead.

What had the Prince been thinking to copy such a spell into his book? And what would happen when Snape saw it? Would he tell Slughorn – Harry’s stomach churned – how Harry had been achieving such good results in Potions all year?

Yes, Rowling. Please, fucking please, tell me all about how special this fucking brat is for his “ability to love”.

Would he confiscate or destroy the book that had taught Harry so much … the book that had become a kind of guide and friend? Harry could not let it happen … he could not …

This stupid fucking moron literally didn’t learn the first thing about Book Two and Tommy’s diary.

He literally cares more about an inanimate object than he cares about almost murdering someone.

AND THEN! AND THEN! He actually ends the chapter with kissing Ginny Weasley. Like…

He skidded to a halt beside the tapestry of dancing trolls, closed his eyes and began to walk.

I need a place to hide my book … I need a place to hide my book … I need a place to hide my book …

Three times he walked up and down in front of the stretch of blank wall. When he opened his eyes, there it was at last: the door to the Room of Requirement. Harry wrenched it open, flung himself inside and slammed it shut.

And you know, this sequence, this entire fucking stupidity, also exists so Harry could coincidentally discover where Draco’s been all year long.

You literally cannot make this shite up.

These are the worst books I’ve ever read. These are the worst works of fiction I’ve ever inflicted on myself.

Despite his haste, his panic, his fear of what awaited him back in the bathroom . . .

Nothing. Nothing is awaiting you because you’re Harry Potter, the Boy Wonder, and you get away with literal murder because you’re just so fucking wunderfull for existing, breathing and loving, you disgustingly stupid brat.

But anyway~ Moving on.

. . . took a left at the broken Vanishing Cabinet in which Montague had got lost the previous year . . .

You mean the Sociopathic Twins stuffed him in. Because he dared to try docking some house points from them.

Seizing the chipped bust of an ugly old warlock from on top of a nearby crate, he stood it on the cupboard where the book was now hidden, perched a dusty old wig and a tarnished tiara on the statue’s head to make it more distinctive . . .

Ooooh, Rowling is such a genius! She already foreshadowed the Ravenclaw tiara!

I am utterly, absolutely sick of that woman’s writing.

Harry ran flat out towards the bathroom on the floor below, cramming Ron’s copy of Advanced Potion-Making into his bag as he did so.

Shouldn’t it already be in your bag?

‘Do you know what I think, Potter?’ said Snape, very quietly. ‘I think that you are a liar and a cheat and that you deserve detention with me every Saturday until the end of term. What do you think, Potter?’

Expulsion.

Kick him out on his arse.

Hell, throw him in Azkaban for a few weeks.

‘I – I don’t agree, sir,’ said Harry, still refusing to look into Snape’s eyes.

You don’t agree that you at least deserve detention for almost murdering someone?

Well.

He is at Hogwarts.

And Hogwarts doesn’t care about some measly murder attempts on its students.

‘But, sir …’ said Harry, looking up desperately. ‘Quidditch … the last match of the –’

WHO FUCKING CARES ABOUT QUIDDITCH?

IS DRACO REALLY THE ONLY ONE TAKING ANYTHING SERIOUSLY IN THIS BOOK?

Moreover! Someone explain to me, in very tiny words, how Harry is the underdog? How he isn’t just your average high school star athlete who is so fabulous that he evidently gets to do anything without any sort of punishment?

“But my quidditch,” he says! while literally standing in someone’s blood that he caused.

But sure, Rowling. Please tell me how Harry is just so fucking full of love.

And he left the bathroom without another word, leaving Harry to stare into the cracked mirror, feeling sicker, he was sure, than Ron had ever felt in his life.

Harry, you are just…

You are such a complete fucking freak, you imbecile.

Harry had never made it to dinner; he had no appetite at all. He had just finished finished telling Ron, Hermione and Ginny what had happened, not that there seemed to have been much need.

Oh so now Ginny gets included.

. . . Malfoy had already been visited in the hospital wing by Pansy Parkinson, who had lost no time in vilifying Harry far and wide . . .

“Vilifying Harry”.

For what?

For almost murdering her boyfriend?

. . . and Snape had told the staff precisely what had happened: Harry had already been called out of the common room to endure fifteen highly unpleasant minutes in the company of Professor McGonagall, who had told him he was lucky not to have been expelled and that she supported whole-heartedly Snape’s punishment of detention every Saturday until the end of term.

You know what?

I’m done.

I’m just so fucking done with this brat.

Harry gets on the list of murderable characters and oh, I’m going to kill him off ignominiously.

How did it go again with James? Tommy murdered him unceremoniously and just stepped over his body? Yeah, I suppose something like that would fit his useless son just as well.

He was having a bad enough time without Hermione lecturing him; the looks on the Gryffindor team’s faces when he had told them he would not be able to play on Saturday had been the worst punishment of all.

You know, worse than being “vilified” far and wide?

Or worse than detention?

Or worse than “highly unpleasant fifteen minutes” with Minerva?

Or I don’t know, worse than almost being eviscerated to death with the face you hate being the last thing you might see?

Just asking.

He could feel Ginny’s eyes on him now, but did not meet them; he did not want to see disappointment or anger there. He had just told her that she would be playing Seeker on Saturday and that Dean would be rejoining the team as Chaser in her place. Perhaps, if they won, Ginny and Dean would make up during the post-match euphoria … the thought went through Harry like an icy knife …

Oh my god, kid, just fucking die already.

‘I’m not defending what I did!’ said Harry quickly. ‘I wish I hadn’t done it, and not just because I’ve got about a dozen detentions. You know I wouldn’t’ve used a spell like that, not even on Malfoy . . .’

Oh really? Because I distinctly remember something along the lines of~ “he wouldn’t wish those dragons on his worst enemy — except maybe Snape and Malfoy”.

Or how about~ “Give back that remembrall, Malfoy, or I’ll knock you off your broom!” which he then proceeded to attempt.

So, you know, the previous books would very much like to disagree with you.

‘Give it a rest, Hermione!’ said Ginny, and Harry was so amazed, so grateful, he looked up. ‘By the sound of it Malfoy was trying to use an Unforgivable Curse, you should be glad Harry had something good up his sleeve!’

You know, honestly — and incest jokes aside — the only good thing about Ginny was her love for Ron and even that has been increasingly diminishing.

‘Well, of course I’m glad Harry wasn’t cursed!’ said Hermione, clearly stung, ‘but you can’t call that Sectumsempra spell good, Ginny, look where it’s landed him! And I’d have thought, seeing what this has done to your chances in the match –’

So in other words, Harry almost murders someone — Harry is most affected?

‘Oh, don’t start acting as though you understand Quidditch,’ snapped Ginny, ‘you’ll only embarrass yourself.’

Harry and Ron stared: Hermione and Ginny, who had always got on together very well, were now sitting with their arms folded, glaring in opposite directions.

Do they really, though?

Harry, however, though he knew he little deserved it, felt unbelievably cheerful all of a sudden, even though none of them spoke again for the rest of the evening.

There’s plenty of room for you on the cliff, Harry.

His light-heartedness was short-lived. There were Slytherin taunts to be endured next day . . .

Oh my god.

. . . not to mention much anger from fellow Gryffindors, who were most unhappy that their Captain had got himself banned from the final match of the season.

Oh my fucking god.

It was almost unbearable to turn away from the mass of students streaming out into the sunshine, all of them wearing rosettes and hats and brandishing banners and scarves, to descend the stone steps into the dungeons and walk until the distant sounds of the crowd were quite obliterated, knowing that he would not be able to hear a word of commentary, or a cheer or groan.

OH MY FUCKING GOD.

SOMEONE, ANYONE, PLEASE. NEVER LET THIS WOMAN WRITE ANYTHING AGAIN.

Ominously, there were many cobwebbed boxes piled on a table where Harry was clearly supposed to sit; they had an aura of tedious, hard and pointless work about them.

Well, Harry, think positively. At least you’re not stuck in the hospital wing after being almost eviscerated to death.

And you know what’s the most disgusting thing about this? The way that fan fic authors handle this thing. Like, either it’s totally brushed aside or it comes up during their first sex scene in which Harry is all “brushes his knuckles gently and sexily down the scar~” because these fan fic authors have fucking porn for brains. Instead of, like, it being actually something Draco had to go through. You’d think he’d at least subconsciously be absolutely reluctant to be vulnerable in front of Harry ever again but that’s the keyword: think.

‘Right, Professor,’ said Harry, with as much contempt as he could put into the last three syllables.

Harry, seriously. Get off your high fucking horse and go drown yourself in the lake. Okay? Thanks bye.

‘I thought you could start,’ said Snape, a malicious smile on his lips . . .

A malicious smile. When the Boy Wonder is being punished for almost eviscerating someone to death.

He pulled out a card from one of the topmost boxes with a flourish and read, ‘“James Potter and Sirius Black. Apprehended using an illegal hex upon Bertram Aubrey. Aubrey’s head twice normal size. Double detention.”’ Snape sneered. ‘It must be such a comfort to think that, though they are gone, a record of their great achievements remains …’

Oh wow, I’m shocked. *monotone* James Would Never!

But I’m sure Bertram was just asking for it even if James Totally Would.

Harry felt the familiar boiling sensation in the pit of his stomach.

I hope it boils right through your stomach and you choke to death on your own stomach acid.

. . . his father or Sirius’s names, usually coupled together in various petty misdeeds, occasionally accompanied by those of Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew.

Oooh, really? Lupin too? What a shock.

… Ginny playing Seeker against Cho …

Just.

Fuck you.

Like, who would want this total gremlin dating their little sister?

‘Quid agis?’ he said tentatively to the Fat Lady, wondering what he would find inside.

Is that the password or did Harry magically pick up Latin for some godawful reason?

‘We won!’ yelled Ron, bounding into sight and brandishing the silver Cup at Harry. ‘We won! Four hundred and fifty to a hundred and forty! We won!’

So… I’m just going to take this as Ron/Ginny proofs that he won the only matches he played with his sister and sans Boy Wonder and his sociopathic brothers.

Harry looked around; there was Ginny running towards him; she had a hard, blazing look in her face as she threw her arms around him. And without thinking, without planning it, without worrying about the fact that fifty people were watching, Harry kissed her.

But why?

Harry looked over the top of Ginny’s head to see Dean Thomas holding a shattered glass in his hand . . .

At last he found him, still clutching the Cup and wearing an expression appropriate to having been clubbed over the head. For a fraction of a second they looked at each other, then Ron gave a tiny jerk of the head that Harry understood to mean, ‘Well – if you must.’

But why?

The creature in his chest roaring in triumph, Harry grinned down at Ginny and gestured wordlessly out of the portrait hole. A long walk in the grounds seemed indicated, during which – if they had time – they might discuss the match.

And again with Tommy in his chest.

And you know, there’s just — nothing. There is no description or reaction from Ginny. Not even a pleased look. No flushed cheeks. No wonder. It’s like she isn’t even there. She’s literally just this prop for Harry while he looks at everyone else but her smugly.

my fancy artistic rendition

Oh hey, almost forgot. Harry’s spell count so far: twenty-four.

‘Harry — you’re a great wizard, you know.’

Good for fucking you, Harry.

Chapter Twenty-three – Horcruxes

This is probably going to be another long prelude.

Okay, first:

Shopping. More specifically grocery shopping.

So far there’s been no indication from whence wizards get their food. There’s been no mention of farms or grocery shops, and yet they eat all the regular old “muggle foods” like sausages, eggs, bacon, etc. and the Weasleys even eat three to four helpings a head. There was mention of chickens at the Burrow but no mention whatsoever of other livestock.

So, from whence does this food come?

Because if they don’t have farms or grocery shops — and canon doesn’t give any indication that they do — then do wizards do their grocery shopping in the muggle world or do they just either conjure animals or transfigure rubbish around the house into animals that they then eat?

Because if they do their grocery shopping in the muggle world then they should, indeed, be familiar enough with it to be, well, familiar with it and muggle money. But again, there’s just no indication that they are.

Moreover — and to be fair, I don’t remember if this was fanon or canon — they can’t conjure food, right? And yet they have a “refilling charm” for drinks — from whence does the refilling come? — and they can conjure animals out of thin air as evidenced by this book. And it’s like, if they can conjure animals then who cares if they can’t conjure food? Or what do people think that food is?

And it’s not like any of this is important to the storyline but some hint of it would’ve been nice. Because I keep saying that I’m just not getting the sense that is totally a “real world”.

Or heck, forget about the grocery shops — what about restaurants? Since in the past only large households had their own kitchens, people used to either eat out or buy takeout.

Second:

Real estate, so to speak. You see, wizards have — well, I actually don’t know what the spell is called since I don’t think it has come up yet — but they basically had these tents that they’d magicked into huge flats, right? So it’s like this interior expansion spell? So technically, every building in the wizarding world could be, like, ten foot square huts and still be enormous on the inside? And then these morons complain that they don’t have enough room to build something? Like, please.

Third:

I was thinking some more about Rowling’s “bad side” and “good side” and the characters she clearly wants you to like and dislike. I mean, I like thinking even if Rowling apparently thinks this is the worst thing ever:

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

‘Never trust anything that can think for itself . . .’

Like, the thing about “bad” or “good” characters — in terms of morality, not the quality of writing — is that it’s a lot easier to sympathise or relate to them if you understand where they’re coming from.

For example, the “death eaters” — or the “pureblood supremacists” as it were. Like, I can understand why the “pureblood supremacists” are behaving the way do.

They’re an extreme minority on a global scale. They’re slowly and inevitably dying out. So they just want to be left alone and live with their own kind. And evidently “marrying with muggles”, as Ron so eloquently put it, doesn’t help because are we seriously just going to pretend like squibs aren’t an actual thing?

Not to mention the only muggles we’ve been shown are dumb, fat, ugly, abusive and bigoted so it’s like, why should the purebloods want to live with people like this? And I’m saying this as someone who actually likes the Dursleys, but it’s obvious that Rowling wants the reader to dislike them so there are hardly any redeeming qualities about them. Except, ironically, their love for each other but I suspect this was more unintentional than intentional on Rowling’s part.

Furthermore, the last time “purebloods” had prolonged co-existing contact with muggles, it ended with witch trials and burnings.

So they were panicking and picked the first fanatic for their leader who seemed to be for real change, and then they all balked anyway when they realised that Tommy was an insane idiot who didn’t care about purebloods any more than he cared about muggleborns, muggles or flobberworms.

What I can’t fathom is why Dumbles’ side is so into muggles or muggleborns when the only behaviour we consistently see from them is abuse, contempt, dehumanisation, assault, and gaslighting. And they all find it funny.

Also, the thing about bigotry is that it isn’t just about the demonisation of an out-group. It’s also about the infantilisation of an out-group, which is precisely what Arthur does.

I also can’t fathom why muggleborns are so keen on taking over the wizarding world — which, really, isn’t that great either — when muggles already control 99,99% of the earth’s surface. And let’s face it, the muggleborns are just muggles who happened to get a dash of magic through the genetic lottery. The muggleborns are reminiscent of Nearly Headless Nick who just really, really wanted to join the society of headless ghosts even though he didn’t even like the ghosts in it.

This doesn’t mean that Rowling actually wrote the conflict this way because that woman is a complete oblivious hack. Instead, she had the “pureblood supremacists” act exactly like house-elves with Tommy and then she didn’t do anything with that either.

That woman is infuriatingly unserious as an author.

I can also understand why Draco behaves the way he does. I mean, 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.’

is a perfectly reasonable sentiment to have, especially in the overall context of Harry Potter’s “world building”. Never mind that it’s, like, obvious that Draco is just repeating something his dad has said because no eleven-year-old thinks or speaks like this. Not to mention! it was Draco! our resident “pureblood supremacist” and “evil death eater spawn”! who started a perfectly polite conversation with a kid he didn’t know or recognise, a kid who was unkempt and too thin and dressed in too big muggle clothes. Never mind that the kid gets hated because he keeps talking about things that are perfectly normal for him and Harry doesn’t know, essentially proving Draco right. “Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine.”

And then his sentiments become increasingly “radical” because of the trio of morons’ behaviour. Such as: being rude to him first for seemingly no reason, being visibly eager to attack him before he’s done anything, actually attacking him for words, laughing at his abuse at the hands of teachers, etc. And it’s like, I can see the direct development of his behaviour and I get that.

Unlike, you know, Harry who upon three seconds decided that Draco is like Dudley because he has a family who loves him and then never brought it up again. Like, that moment in Book One? When Draco picked up Neville’s remembrall? That would’ve been a golden opportunity to make a direct parallel between Dudley and Draco’s behaviour but nope, none of that. Instead, Harry decided within two weeks that he hates Draco more than he hates Dudley even though Dudley actually stole his food, isolated him at school, bullied him and used him as a punchbag. And as an aside, theretofore Draco hadn’t even done anything to this brat and he still hasn’t done anything equivalent to Harry.

Like, it’s so ridiculous and stupid and the writing never acknowledges or gets into it. Instead, we’re supposed to side with Harry because he’s Harry, the Boy Wonder, and Draco is a Malfoy, his dad is “evil enough” (before Lucius has actually done anything, mind), they’re slytherins and later they’re death eaters. And even then the only “evil” thing Lucius did in Book Two was use Ginny to get Dumbles and Hagrid sacked and the Muggle Protection Act repealed, which is! precisely what Dumbles is doing with Harry! Never mind that Arthur’s children attack muggle children and they all thought it was splendid fucking fun. So evidently, Lucius needn’t even have bothered in Book Two.

Or Hagrid who has absolutely no reason to hate slytherins aside from one slytherin mudblood going all Dark Wizard Extraordinaire who had nothing to do with him anyway. Like, that’s stupid. That’s petty. Hagrid is sixty and the slytherins at Hogwarts are kids.

Or Severus. I can see and understand how Severus (and Draco for that matter) ended up in the death eater cahoots. I mean, Severus’ muggle dad was abusive. That’s already a powerful motivation for someone to get into the death eaters, never mind peer and house influence of the time.

What the fuck was James‘ excuse for his behaviour? Aside from being a spoiled, rich, handsome and stupendously talented pureblood who got obsessed with a (muggleborn) girl and thought he can dictate what house others can want to belong to?

Or Sirius?

Or Lupin?

But anyway~ those are just some of the examples. I could bring up more but honestly, this prelude is already long enough.

I’ll add just one more thing: Harry Potters seriously are some of the worst books I’ve ever read. Rowling cocks up her genres, she cocks up her world building, she cocks up her themes, and she cocks up her characters.

Harry could feel the Felix Felicis wearing off as he crept back into the castle. The front door had remained unlocked for him, but on the third floor he met Peeves and only narrowly avoided detection by diving sideways through one of his short cuts.

Didn’t you have the invisibility cloak with you or did you leave it wherever again?

By the time he got up to the portrait of the Fat Lady and pulled off his Invisibility Cloak, he was not surprised to find her in a most unhelpful mood.

Okay? So how do you “narrowly avoid detection” when you’re invisible?

‘Well, the password changed at midnight, so you’ll just have to sleep in the corridor, won’t you?’

Ha ha! Yes please, let him sleep in the corridor. Make my life complete!

Also, this is, like, the worst door in the world.

‘That’s the way it is,’ said the Fat Lady. ‘If you’re angry, go and take it up with the Headmaster, he’s the one who’s tightened security.’

Okay? Does this mean that Dumbles is responsible for the passwords and not the — whatevers that are in front of the holes?

‘Come back! All right, I lied! I was annoyed you woke me up! The password’s still “tapeworm”!’

Worst. door. in. the. world.

Well, except for the part where she would’ve made Harry sleep on the floor, ha ha.

Even the Dursleys gave him a bed even if it was in a cupboard. *sotto voce*

‘And now,’ said Dumbledore, placing the stone basin upon his desk and emptying the contents of the bottle into it, ‘now, at last, we shall see. Harry, quickly …’

You know, like, why does Dumbles supposedly need this memory of horcruxes (aside from Rowling pretending that something is totally happening in this book)? I mean, he’s already gone after one? Even if it was a fake if memory serves me right? So he must already be aware of their existence and what they are?

Dumbledore landed beside Harry just as Riddle asked, ‘Sir, is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?’

‘Tom, Tom, if I knew I couldn’t tell you,’ said Slughorn, wagging his finger reprovingly at Riddle, though winking at the same time. ‘I must say, I’d like to know where you get your information, boy; more knowledgeable than half the staff, you are.’

Riddle smiled; the other boys laughed and cast him admiring looks.

So… the other boys admire Tommy because he’s really plugged into the Hogwarts rumour mill that, as we’ve consistently seen, already knows things it shouldn’t?

Like… at least have them admire his dark but ingenious spellwork?

I mean…

Okay. Forget it. Moving on.

‘What with your uncanny ability to know things you shouldn’t, and your careful flattery of the people who matter – thank you for the pineapple, by the way, you’re quite right, it is my favourite –’

Several of the boys tittered again.

Oh my god, they’re all just a bunch of girls.

Tom Riddle merely smiled as the others laughed again. Harry noticed that he was by no means the eldest of the group of boys, but that they all seemed to look to him as their leader.

YEAH, BUT WHY?

BECAUSE HE’S STUPENDOUSLY TALENTED WITH GOSSIP AND BRIBERY?

LIKE?

Be fucking serious.

‘Nonsense,’ said Slughorn briskly, ‘couldn’t be plainer you come from decent wizarding stock, abilities like yours.’

So, is this okay or is this not okay? Or is this sarcasm for once?

‘No, you’ll go far, Tom, I’ve never been wrong about a student yet.’

How did it go again, Slughorn~? “You’re a good boy, Harry”?

While Harry was pressuring him for what he wants with the gritty details of his parents’ murders, ha ha ha.

At least Tommy used bribery and cunning.

‘Good gracious, is it that time already? You’d better get going, boys, or we’ll all be in trouble. Lestrange, I want your essay by tomorrow or it’s detention. Same goes for you, Avery.’

Well, at least here are some of the names of people who went to school with Tommy.

‘Sir, I wondered what you know about … about Horcruxes?’

Come to think of it, why did Tommy ask Slughorn of all people? Because he was the only one dumb enough to answer? I mean, Slughorn doesn’t exactly strike me as a connoisseur of dark arts.

‘No … well … you’d be hard-pushed to find a book at Hogwarts that’ll give you details on Horcruxes, Tom. That’s very Dark stuff, very Dark indeed,’ said Slughorn.

So how about a national library or do you just make do with the one and only at Hogwarts?

‘But you obviously know all about them, sir? I mean, a wizard like you – sorry, I mean, if you can’t tell me, obviously – I just knew if anyone could tell me, you could – so I just thought I’d ask –’

But why?

It was very well done, thought Harry, the hesitancy, the casual tone, the careful flattery, none of it overdone. He, Harry, had had too much experience of trying to wheedle information out of reluctant people not to recognise a master at work.

You do?

Since when?

I mean, even in the last chapter when you needed information you ended up using a luck potion.

Like, when has ever wheedled anything out of anyone? The only one who comes to mind is Hagrid but it was Hermione wheedling him and Hagrid ends up blabbing anyway, wheedling or no wheedling.

‘A Horcrux is the word used for an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul.’

Fullmetal Alchemist genuinely did this whole thing so much better.

I mean, imagine if Tommy had concealed parts of his soul into seemingly living humans?

His voice was carefully controlled, but Harry could sense his excitement.

Probably because you have a piece of Tommy in you.

‘Well, you split your soul, you see,’ said Slughorn, ‘and hide part of it in an object outside the body. Then, even if one’s body is attacked or destroyed, one cannot die, for part of the soul remains earthbound and undamaged. But, of course, existence in such a form …’

Okay? And what does that mean in practical terms?

Like, Tommy creates himself horcruxes before his First Great Fuck-up. The First Great Fuck-up happens and he ends up killing himself. At the same time he pours a piece of himself into Harry so that Harry effectively becomes another horcrux. So did he pour what was left of him at the time into Harry or did he just put a little piece and the rest of him at the time became Tommy vapours or whatever? Because if he did pour what was left of him, did one of the horcruxes “wake up” and release its fragment of his soul?

‘I was ripped from my body, I was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost … but still, I was alive.’

And come to think of it, why didn’t Tommy just make himself into an actual ghost? Surely he could just as well bring himself “back to life” as a ghost as some vapour less than a ghost?

‘… few would want it, Tom, very few. Death would be preferable.’

So what’s the difference between ghosts, living portraits and horcruxes? I mean, they’re all “unnaturally extending something that shouldn’t be unnaturally extended”?

And oh, I can just imagine it now too: Tommy crawling his way out of a portrait to manifest anew in the world.

Would’ve been a lot creepier too than him being a toddler and needing Harry’s dingy mudblood blood for something.

‘Well,’ said Slughorn uncomfortably, ‘you must understand that the soul is supposed to remain intact and whole. Splitting it is an act of violation, it is against nature.’

Okay? Again, how does it demonstrably differ from ghosts and living portraits? Or what do wizards care about something “against nature” since their very existence is “against nature”?

‘By an act of evil – the supreme act of evil. By committing murder. Killing rips the soul apart. The wizard intent upon creating a Horcrux would use the damage to his advantage: he would encase the torn portion –’

Says the books that almost had Dudley suffocate to death on his own tongue.

That was funny, but this is no longer supposed to be funny.

‘There is a spell, do not ask me, I don’t know!’ said Slughorn, shaking his head like an old elephant bothered by mosquitoes. ‘Do I look as though I have tried it – do I look like a killer?’

Like, the spell for creating horcruxes or the killing spell? Because surely Slughorn knows what the killing spell is seeing as it is sixth-year material?

‘Merlin’s beard, Tom!’ yelped Slughorn. ‘Seven! Isn’t it bad enough to think of killing one person? And in any case … bad enough to divide the soul … but to rip it into seven pieces …’

Okay? I mean, is this implying that wizards never kill anyone? Because the mere existence of the killing spell would like to disagree with that — never mind the entrail expelling spell which, you guessed it, would end up killing someone. And in a far more painful way than avada kedavra too.

Not to mention that the dementor’s kiss, too, is far more inhumane than avada kedavra.

‘But all the same, Tom … keep it quiet, what I’ve told – that’s to say, what we’ve discussed. People wouldn’t like to think we’ve been chatting about Horcruxes. It’s a banned subject at Hogwarts, you know … Dumbledore’s particularly fierce about it …’

HMM?

And why is Dumbles particularly fierce about it?

You know, Dumbles. The one actually with all the references and associations with immortality.

‘I have been hoping for this piece of evidence for a very long time,’ said Dumbledore at last. ‘It confirms the theory on which I have been working, it tells me that I am right, and also how very far there is still to go …’

Okay? Why didn’t you do anything about it then “a very long time” ago?

‘Well, Harry,’ said Dumbledore, ‘I am sure you understood the significance of what we just heard. At the same age as you are now, give or take a few months, Tom Riddle was doing all he could to find out how to make himself immortal.’

Okay, now ask Dumbles why he has all these references and associations with immortality.

‘You think he succeeded then, sir?’ asked Harry. ‘He made a Horcrux? And that’s why he didn’t die when he attacked me? He had a Horcrux hidden somewhere? A bit of his soul was safe?’

Goddammit, Harry.

‘. . . what would happen to the wizard so determined to evade death that he would be prepared to murder many times . . .’

No but seriously, there was a “war”, like, sixteen years ago? You telling me that they weren’t all killing each other? Oh, wait. They’re all pusillanimous losers, they were all probably just hiding until Tommy accidentally killed himself on a toddler.

But if I recall correctly, didn’t Molly kill Bellatrix in Book Seven? So what about her soul?

‘I don’t understand, sir,’ said Harry.

That’s not surprising, Harry. You rarely understand anything. You know why that is? Because you’re the audience’s stand-in. And evidently Rowling thinks her audience is utterly brainless.

‘I still don’t understand,’ said Harry.

Oh my god, Harry.

‘But there could be no doubt that Riddle really wanted that diary read, wanted the piece of his soul to inhabit or possess somebody else, so that Slytherin’s monster would be unleashed again.’

Just so it would again fail to kill anyone like it failed to kill anyone aside from Myrtle the last time?

‘Well, he didn’t want his hard work to be wasted,’ said Harry. ‘He wanted people to know he was Slytherin’s heir, because he couldn’t take credit at the time.’

Harry knows nothing about hard work but he sure does know about taking credit from other people — just like Gilderoy!

‘Then you told me, two years later, that on the night that Voldemort returned to his body, he made a most illuminating and alarming statement to his Death Eaters. “I, who have gone further than anybody along the path that leads to immortality.” That was what you told me he said. “Further than anybody.” And I thought I knew what that meant, though the Death Eaters did not. He was referring to his Horcruxes, Horcruxes in the plural, Harry, which I do not believe any other wizard has ever had.’

So is this what that “flash of triumph in his eyes” was supposedly about? Because I gotta be honest, I’ve mostly forgotten the details of that chapter.

And you know, it would be so much easier to care about this blah de blah de blah if Rowling hadn’t insisted on writing Tommy as an utterly incompetent, ineffectual loser.

Like, she can hype him up all she wants in dialogue and flashbacks, none of it matters because what she shows is an absolute loser.

Who had to be fed with a nursing bottle, as a kind reminder.

my fancy artistic rendition

‘So he’s made himself impossible to kill by murdering other people?’ said Harry. ‘Why couldn’t he make a Philosopher’s Stone, or steal one, if he was so interested in immortality?’

Well, Harry! Since you’re asking~ in Fullmetal Alchemist, which is infinitely better than this tripe, you had to kill entire nations of people to create a philosopher’s stone.

‘While the Elixir of Life does indeed extend life, it must be drunk regularly, for all eternity, if the drinker is to maintain his immortality.’

Okay. How about explaining the previous headmaster who casually lived up to three hundred in the background?

‘I believe that he would have found the thought of being dependent, even on the Elixir, intolerable.’

So it was a lot better to be dependent on horcruxes that he left with random people anyway?

‘He was already immortal, you see … or as close to immortal as any man can be.’

Since you’re so eager to share, Dumbles, how about sharing with the class why you’re the one with all the references and associations with immortality?

‘He made seven Horcruxes?’ said Harry, horror-struck . . .

Oh my god, Harry, you are so fucking slow.

‘But they could be anywhere in the world – hidden – buried or invisible –’

Wouldn’t that have been a fun little macguffin quest?

The seventh part of his soul, however maimed, resides inside his regenerated body. That was the part of him that lived a spectral existence for so many years during his exile; without that, he has no self at all. That seventh piece of soul will be the last that anybody wishing to kill Voldemort must attack – the piece that lives in his body.’

Okay? Why not just obliterate his body then and scoop up his vapours in a jar? How did he even get that charred toddler body in Book Four in the first place? Like, what’s the process of becoming bodily from vapours of tattered soul?

‘Had it not been – forgive me the lack of seemly modesty – for my own prodigious skill, and for Professor Snape’s timely action when I returned to Hogwarts, desperately injured, I might not have lived to tell the tale.’

And what a shame that would’ve been. *monotone*

‘But Lord Voldemort use tin cans or old potion bottles to guard his own precious soul?’

So precious that he doesn’t even keep them close at hand?

And you know what would’ve been cool? If Tommy’s little horcruxes had been in circulation, whether among muggles or wizards, and they’d all taken possession of them and thus “increase” his vessels so to speak.

‘The diary wasn’t that special.’

Well, I don’t think. I think it was pretty special since it was basically a diary form of pensieve.

‘The locket!’ said Harry loudly. ‘Hufflepuff ’s cup!’

Oh, he’s finally catching on. I hope his head doesn’t overheat from all this usage.

*massive eye roll*

‘Even if he got something of Ravenclaw’s or of Gryffindor’s, that leaves a sixth Horcrux,’ said Harry, counting on his fingers.

He’s counting on his fingers. Bless this little dimwit.

‘I don’t think so,’ said Dumbledore. ‘I think I know what the sixth Horcrux is. I wonder what you will say when I confess that I have been curious for a while about the behaviour of the snake, Nagini?’

If he wanted to become “immortal” why put his soul into something alive that, presumably, dies?

‘He seems to have reserved the process of making Horcruxes for particularly significant deaths. You would certainly have been that. He believed that in killing you, he was destroying the danger the prophecy had outlined. He believed he was making himself invincible. I am sure that he was intending to make his final Horcrux with your death.

So, why did he wait for at least a year and three months before he tried that?

‘As we know, he failed. After an interval of some years, however, he used Nagini to kill an old Muggle man, and it might then have occurred to him to turn her into his last Horcrux. She underlines the Slytherin connection, which enhances Lord Voldemort’s mystique. I think he is perhaps as fond of her as he can be of anything; he certainly likes to keep her close and he seems to have an unusual amount of control over her, even for a Parselmouth.’

Does he mean Frank Bryce? Have we even seen Nagini since then? Aside from that time when she attacked Arthur? It’s not like there was anything particularly unusual about her then?

. . . and Phineas Nigellus actually snorted.

Oh, Phineas. We haven’t seen a lot of you but you were my favourite headmaster.

‘Yes he did, years ago, when he was sure he would be able to create more Horcruxes, but still Lucius was supposed to wait for Voldemort’s say-so, and he never received it, for Voldemort vanished shortly after giving him the diary.’

But I thought Bellatrix implied the diary was given to her?

‘That was not my fault!’ said Bellatrix, flushing. ‘The Dark Lord has, in the past, entrusted me with his most precious – if Lucius hadn’t –’

??

‘Of course, Lucius did not know what the diary really was.’

Oh really?

I understand that Voldemort had told him the diary would cause the Chamber of Secrets to reopen, because it was cleverly enchanted. Had Lucius known he held a portion of his master’s soul in his hands he would undoubtedly have treated it with more reverence – but instead he went ahead and carried out the old plan for his own ends: by planting the diary upon Arthur Weasley’s daughter, he hoped to discredit Arthur, have me thrown out of Hogwarts and get rid of a highly incriminating object in one stroke.’

*sighs wistfully*

That really was a clever plan. Unlike the plans of the rest of these morons.

‘It will take uncommon skill and power to kill a wizard like Voldemort, even without his Horcruxes.’

So. Not Harry then?

‘But I haven’t got uncommon skill and power,’ said Harry, before he could stop himself.

As I said.

‘Yes, you have,’ said Dumbledore firmly. ‘You have a power that Voldemort has never had. You can –’

‘I know!’ said Harry impatiently. ‘I can love!’ It was only with difficulty that he stopped himself adding, ‘Big deal!’

You know, it would be a lot easier to buy this hogwash if we actually saw a demonstrable demonstration of Harry’s ability to “love”.

Because he sure as hell hasn’t been demonstrating it so far.

‘Yes, Harry, you can love,’ said Dumbledore, who looked as though he knew perfectly well what Harry had just refrained from saying. ‘Which, given everything that has happened to you, is a great and remarkable thing. You are still too young to understand how unusual you are, Harry.’

I guess it’s a good thing that I’m too tired to feel revulsion because otherwise I would surely feel it about now.

I will say, however: SHOW, ROWLING. DON’T TELL.

Also! You know what occurred to me? For all that Harry supposedly falls in love with Ginny in this book, they have not once interacted when it was just the two of them. Seeing as Rowling did it just fine for Cho and Harry — no matter how rare, short and shoddy their alone interactions were — I find this utter lack of interaction between Harry and his One True Love hilarious.

But sure, book, keep telling us about Harry’s stupendous capacity to love.

What a load of horseshit.

‘But,’ said Harry, bewildered, ‘but last year, you said one of us would have to kill the other –’

Harry, Tommy has been trying to kill you since you were a toddler. How did you think that was going to end up? Try to use that little raisin that you call a brain.

‘If Voldemort had never murdered your father, would he have imparted in you a furious desire for revenge?’

Um? Harry has a “furious desire for revenge”?

I’ll just repeat: SHOW, ROWLING. DON’T TELL.

‘He heard the prophecy and he leapt into action . . .’

Like, at least after a year and three months?

But sure, Dumbles. You go off.

‘. . . with the result that he not only handpicked the man most likely to finish him, he handed him uniquely deadly weapons!’

Brainlessness? Indolence? Stupidity beyond compare?

Okay, headcanon time! Since I have the headcanon that Hagrid and Tommy used to be at least friends for that one year at Hogwarts, if not more, then I’ll just assume that what Tommy poured into Harry was his own capacity to love — no matter how… Tommy-ish it was. It was the piece of his soul that felt an affinity for Hagrid, if not his equivalent of love. Would certainly explain why Harry was so immediately attached to that useless petty criminal drunkard.

‘It is Voldemort’s fault that you were able to see into his thoughts, his ambitions, that you even understand the snakelike language in which he gives orders, and yet, Harry, despite your privileged insight into Voldemort’s world (which, incidentally, is a gift any Death Eater would kill to have), you have never been seduced by the Dark Arts, never, even for a second, shown the slightest desire to become one of Voldemort’s followers!’

Harry very much has an affinity for the cruciatus curse?

He also very much has an affinity for bullying, cruelty, for enjoying other people’s discomfort, fear and panic, and laughing at other people’s abuse, for terrorising those with less power than him and bullying people who should be his friends into compliance?

And doesn’t this stupid brat use the imperius curse too in Book Seven?

Like?

??

Just because Harry doesn’t want to follow Tommy like an obsequious house-elf, it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have the capacity to be a dark wizard on his own merits?

Also~ I’ll repeat: SHOW, ROWLING. DON’T TELL.

‘Of course I haven’t!’ said Harry indignantly. ‘He killed my mum and dad!’

‘You are protected, in short, by your ability to love!’ said Dumbledore loudly.

Doesn’t that mean that he’s protected by others’ ability to love him, you stupid old creep?

Oh no. That’s exactly what it means. Because Tommy certainly never had anyone love him.

‘In spite of all the temptation you have endured, all the suffering, you remain pure of heart, just as pure as you were at the age of eleven . . .’

You are laying it really thick there, Dumbles.

‘ . . . when you stared into a mirror that reflected your heart’s desire, and it showed you only the way to thwart Lord Voldemort, and not immortality or riches.’

You remember what the mirror was showing first? His dead family — which may or may not have included his muggle side of the family. I mean, it wasn’t particularly clear but because it’s hilarious I’ll just assume it didn’t.

‘Got to?’ said Dumbledore. ‘Of course you’ve got to! But not because of the prophecy! Because you, yourself, will never rest until you’ve tried! We both know it! Imagine, please, just for a moment, that you had never heard that prophecy! How would you feel about Voldemort now? Think!’

Ha ha ha! Oh, Dumbles. Don’t ask the impossible from Harry. He has no experience using the pea he calls a brain.

He thought of his mother, his father and Sirius. He thought of Cedric Diggory. He thought of all the terrible deeds he knew Lord Voldemort had done.

Well, he certainly doesn’t think of them much at all in the actual narrative.

I mean, here’s an example: Harry had direct, personal access to two of his parents’ best friends and he never asked them anything about his parents. Not even so much as where they’re buried.

Harry. does. not. demonstrably. and. observably. care. about. his. parents. Or anyone else for that matter.

‘But Voldemort continues to set store by the prophecy. He will continue to hunt you … which makes it certain, really, that –’

Really? Because I’m pretty sure Tommy already gave up on that at the end of Book Five. And even in this book Draco — you know, who is currently working directly for Tommy — had Harry Potter Extraordinaire completely helpless and he didn’t just send him gift-wrapped to Tommy.

But he understood at last what Dumbledore had been trying to tell him. It was, he thought, the difference between being dragged into the arena to face a battle to the death and walking into the arena with your head held high.

Like, none of that literally matters? You’ve been dragged into that position by Tommy, by Dumbles, by the entire wizarding world.

It’s just stupid fucking semantics whether you’re doing it because of a “prophecy” or because you think you’re making a choice about it after it’s already been chosen for you.

Harry’s spell count so far: twenty-three.

‘Harry — you’re a great wizard, you know.’

This chapter was honestly a complete bore.

Chapter Twenty-two – After the Burial

Okay, before I get to the chapter proper there are a few things I’d like to talk about first. So this is going to be a bit long of a prelude.

First:

There’s a general fandom misconception that, I suspect, came about thanks to the persistent efforts of shippers. I’ve been pointing this out on an individual basis throughout the books but this time I’ll talk about this a bit more at length.

That is, Draco Malfoy is not obsessed with Harry Potter.

It’s true that once someone gets on Draco’s shitlist, he’ll take those grudges to his grave — which, apparently, got interpreted by some as “obsession”. But throughout the books we see him consistently harass Ron more than he harasses Harry and oftentimes he even outright ignores Harry in favour of Ron, and he harasses both of them far more than he harasses Hermione. Often he even reacts to Neville first before he reacts to Harry. Never mind that he’s only failed twice at something school related due to Harry’s enormous head and his fan club.

‘Training for the ballet, Potter?’ yelled Malfoy, as Harry was forced to do a stupid kind of twirl in mid-air to dodge the Bludger. Off Harry fled, the Bludger trailing a few feet behind him: and then, glaring back at Malfoy in hatred, he saw it, the Golden Snitch. It was hovering inches above Malfoy’s left ear – and Malfoy, busy laughing at Harry, hadn’t seen it.

Chapter Ten, Book Two.

. . . a short distance from Professor Marchbanks, who was halfway through testing Draco Malfoy.

‘Potter, is it?’ said Professor Tofty, consulting his notes and peering over his pince-nez at Harry as he approached. ‘The famous Potter?’

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry distinctly saw Malfoy throw a scathing look over at him; the wine-glass Malfoy had been levitating fell to the floor and smashed.

Chapter Thirty-one, Book Five.

I mean, who can blame him really? Considering what a rude obnoxious failure Harry is to Draco even I’d be making faces if I heard someone praise Harry in my presence.

And evidently Draco learned from Book Two considering we never see him distracted during a quidditch match again. I’m not sure if he learned from Book Five because we never really saw a continuation to it, but considering how he went to almost completely ignoring Harry in Book Six, I’d say he did learn.

Malfoy stopped short at the sight of Harry, then gave a short, humourless laugh and continued walking.

Chapter Nineteen, Book Six.

These books would’ve been infinitely funnier if that had been his reaction all the time. *sighs wistfully*

This is quite unlike Harry who, throughout the books, keeps expressing how he doesn’t want to appear uncool in front of Draco — as in, he cares about what Draco thinks of him. Who glared at Draco across the great hall because the kid was getting sweets from his mum. Who constantly enjoys Draco’s discomfort, fear and panic even before the kid did anything to him. Who constantly wanted to pick fights with him for the thinnest of excuses. Who is currently busy stalking Draco in Book Six. I mean, he even saw dreams about Draco (or nightmares, whatever).

Harry Potter is more plausibly obsessed with Draco Malfoy, not the other way around.

Please stop projecting other characters’ failings on Draco. It’s enough that Rowling already does it, the fandom doesn’t need to do it too.

Second:

So since I apparently have readers now(?), ha ha, I figured I should probably explain the blonde thing I keep pointing out.

For those of you who don’t know, in European traditions blondes were the ideal heroic archetype — well, except for the Irish whose ideal was dark hair, white skin and red lips. “For the more blonde one is, the better.”

So the fact that Rowling consistently depicts blondes as evil, cold, ugly, useless, cowardly, stupid, and weird loners etc. is a direct subversion and inversion of this traditional European ideal. And that on top of the other seeming subversion and inversion — such as the villain in Book One being named after one of the fathers of European gods — should be taken as the hostility that it is.

I’m not yet that familiar with other peoples’ ideal archetypes — except for rudimentary knowledge of what the Irish preferred and that the Chinese made regular reference to “jade-faced” in their poetry and the Japanese’s yamato nadeshiko.

So for example, it’d be like writing a yamato nadeshiko and then depicting her as an obese, ill-tempered slob.

I mean, almost all subversion and inversion are inherently hostile.

Third:

Let’s talk about Tommy some more, shall we?

There was this bit in the previous chapter:

‘… oh, and how horrible, a nine-year-old boy has been arrested for trying to kill his grandparents, they think he was under the Imperius Curse …’

and at the time I asked what if the grandparents were just abusive like almost every wizarding parent in these books?

But, you know, obviously it was the imperius curse. And what I’d like to ask is, why? Like, why the fuck would the death eaters be imperiusing random nine-year-olds for shits and giggles instead of working to take over the wizarding world — which is probably their goal even though I’m not sure it’s been stated yet? Were this kid’s grandparents at least political targets? Because why else would the death eaters be wasting time on this?

I think it was in Book One when I said that Tommy would’ve worked the slightest bit better if he’d just been a thing, a concept, that Harry had to overcome. And sometimes it feels like Rowling tries or wants to write Tommy as this miasmic influence that corrupts and sows discord, enmity, distrust* and yet at the same time she wrote him as entirely, pathetically, ineffectually human. And frankly, she can’t have it both ways. Rowling does not have the talent to pull that off.

* As an aside, as much as I didn’t care about Breath of Fire IV, it did this concept a whole lot better than Rowling ever could hope to do.

Okay! I also want to talk about the wizarding economy — particularly about grocery shops — some more but this is already long enough so I’ll leave that for the next chapter’s prelude, ha ha.

I hope this chapter doesn’t take long.

Patches of bright blue sky were beginning to appear over the castle turrets, but these signs of approaching summer did not lift Harry’s mood. He had been thwarted, both in his attempts to find out what Malfoy was doing, and in his efforts to start a conversation with Slughorn that might lead, somehow, to Slughorn handing over the memory he had apparently suppressed for decades.

Aw, don’t take it so hard, Harry. You fail at mostly everything until the plot literally demands that you succeed. Remember Book Four? Harry Potter and the Triwizard Tournament of Extreme Handholding?

‘For the last time, just forget about Malfoy,’ Hermione told Harry firmly.

But why? Why are they suddenly like this? They weren’t like this in Book Two or the myriad of times they thought Severus was up to No Good and they were always wrong about?

Ron gave a start and tried to hide behind Hermione as a girl came round the corner.

‘It isn’t Lavender,’ said Hermione wearily.

Ron, please. Man the fuck up and give the girl a decent break-up at least.

It’s mindboggling that he’s like this with a girl who genuinely seemed to like him.

Dear Harry, Ron and Hermione,

Aragog died last night. Harry and Ron, you met him, and you know how special he was. Hermione, I know you’d have liked him. It would mean a lot to me if you’d nip down for the burial later this evening. I’m planning on doing it round dusk, that was his favourite time of day. I know you’re not supposed to be out that late, but you can use the Cloak. Wouldn’t ask but I can’t face it alone.

Hagrid

Hagrid is just… really something special, he is.

‘He’s mental!’ he said furiously. ‘That thing told its mates to eat Harry and me! Told them to help themselves! And now Hagrid expects us to go down there and cry over its horrible hairy body!’

Oh, Ron. You were always the smartest one of the trio of morons (even though that isn’t saying a lot).

I suppose I’d feel more sympathetic if these fucking morons hadn’t just spent the past three books insisting that Hagrid stay on as a teacher and bullying everyone else into compliance, only for them to drop the subject themselves in this book. As it is, I hope Aragog’s inbred brood eats the lot of you.

‘It’s not just that,’ said Hermione. ‘He’s asking us to leave the castle at night, and he knows security’s a million times tighter and how much trouble we’d be in if we were caught.’

Hermione, though, can genuinely go die at her earliest convenience.

Who cares about potential maiming and death and how fucking obnoxious and dangerous Hagrid is! Think about the school!

‘We’ve been down to see him by night before,’ said Harry.

‘Yes, but for something like this?’ said Hermione. ‘We’ve risked a lot to help Hagrid out, but after all – Aragog’s dead. If it were a question of saving him –’

You know what? I’m actually starting to understand Harry/Hermione. Those two morons most deservedly deserve each other.

‘– I’d want to go even less,’ said Ron firmly. ‘You didn’t meet him, Hermione. Believe me, being dead will have improved him a lot.’

Ron! Get yourself away from the two morons before it’s too late! Find yourself some real friends!

Harry took the note back and stared down at the inky blotches all over it. Tears had clearly fallen thick and fast upon the parchment …

Harry. Please.

HAGRID IS OVER SIXTY. HE DOES NOT NEED TO BE CODDLED BY A BUNCH OF KIDS.

And you know what? What do you just wanna bet that Hagrid never actually blubbers all over these letters, he just drops water over it to give the effect?

And wait.

After the burial?

Oh my god, don’t tell me we’re actually wasting an entire chapter on Aragog’s burial?

I’ll just repeat: WE ALMOST HAD AN ACTUAL PLOT IN THIS WASTE OF TREES.

‘Fifty-seventh time lucky, you think?’ said Harry bitterly.

‘Lucky,’ said Ron suddenly. ‘Harry, that’s it – get lucky!’

‘What d’you mean?’

‘Use your lucky potion!’

Ha ha ha! It wasn’t even Harry’s idea.

Oh well, at least that’s consistent with the past — I don’t know — five books.

‘Ron, that’s – that’s it!’ said Hermione, sounding stunned. ‘Of course! Why didn’t I think of it?’

Because you’re all absolutely brainless but it’s okay now since we’re on page 225 of 307?

Harry stared at them both. ‘Felix Felicis?’ he said. ‘I dunno … I was sort of saving it …’

‘What for?’ demanded Ron incredulously.

‘What on earth is more important than this memory, Harry?’ asked Hermione.

I dunno, surviving? When he has to do a death match with the darkest wizard of modern times? The “war” that’s totally for reals happening somewhere in the background?

Harry did not answer. The thought of that little golden bottle had hovered on the edges of his imagination for some time; vague and unformulated plans that involved Ginny splitting up with Dean, and Ron somehow being happy to see her with a new boyfriend, had been fermenting in the depths of his brain, unacknowledged except during dreams or the twilight time between sleeping and waking …

Harry, you are just… I mean… I have no words. I have no words for how fucking stupid you are.

I have no words for how fucking stupid these books are.

Also, I talked about this in Book Four during the practical demonstrations of unforgivables on students. You see, one of the unforgivables is total control. At the time I commented that obviously this spell isn’t unforgivable because total control is unforgivable, seeing as these stellar, stellar books have love potions and luck potions. Which are, as you guessed it, means of control. Making people do things that they otherwise necessarily wouldn’t.

And here is Harry, our protagonist extraordinaire, telling us he’d daydreamed about using it so he can magically induce a girl into breaking up with her current boyfriend and start dating him.

This isn’t love. This is a similar kind of obsession to what James was feeling towards Lily.

And then Harry actually managed to magically induce a girl into breaking up with her current boyfriend even if he didn’t take the luck potion for that express reason.

Well, of course

“Yeah, Mum’s always wishing we had a house-elf to do the ironing.”

this is just par for the course for these books.

‘They’re the Montgomery sisters and of course they don’t look happy, didn’t you hear what happened to their little brother?’ said Hermione.

‘Well, their brother was attacked by a werewolf. The rumour is that their mother refused to help the Death Eaters. Anyway, the boy was only five and he died in St Mungo’s, they couldn’t save him.’

Well, I mean… I guess at least people are dying? But, like…

The death eaters and Tommy are genuinely so incompetent, ineffectual and pathetic that I wonder how anyone ever, inside or outside the books, took them seriously.

‘He died?’ repeated Harry, shocked. ‘But surely werewolves don’t kill, they just turn you into one of them?’

Harry. Please.

‘Harry, you’ve got to get that memory,’ she said. ‘It’s all about stopping Voldemort, isn’t it? These dreadful things that are happening are all down to him …’

No it’s not. It’s Rowling literally pretending that something is totally happening in this book.

Like, Tommy’s backstory? Literally isn’t important. It’s the same fucking thing as Lupin launching into a long monologue on his backstory in Book Three instead of just turning Scabbers into Peter. Like, no one cares. Do something.

There were only three of them in Potions that afternoon: Harry, Ernie and Draco Malfoy.

Hee, it’s Draco! ♡

Ha ha, he’s too young to take the apparation test.

‘Ah well,’ said Slughorn cheerily, ‘as we’re so few, we’ll do something fun. I want you all to brew me up something amusing!’

‘That sounds good, sir,’ said Ernie sycophantically, rubbing his hands together.

But when Draco does something ‘sycophantically’ he’s just a vile little runt, he is!

Malfoy, on the other hand, did not crack a smile.

‘What do you mean, something “amusing”?’ he said irritably.

‘Oh, surprise me,’ said Slughorn airily.

Malfoy opened his copy of Advanced Potion-Making with a sulky expression. It could not have been plainer that he thought this lesson was a waste of time.

Oh my god, he’s so cute. And don’t feel too bad, Draco, these entire books have been massive wastes of time.

Was it his imagination, or did Malfoy, like Tonks, look thinner? Certainly he looked paler; his skin still had that greyish tinge, probably because he so rarely saw daylight these days. But there was no air of smugness, or excitement, or superiority; none of the swagger that he had had on the Hogwarts Express, when he had boasted openly of the mission he had been given by Voldemort … there could be only one conclusion, in Harry’s opinion: the mission, whatever it was, was going badly.

Aww, poor Draco. It’s not your fault, it’s Rowling’s fault.

And yes, I’m aware he’s trying to murder Dumbles but I genuinely don’t care. It would’ve been the greatest service to this world that Draco could’ve done and I’ll have him do it in a fic.

Cheered by this thought, Harry skimmed through his copy of Advanced Potion-Making and found a heavily corrected Half-Blood Prince’s version of An Elixir to Induce Euphoria . . .

Harry, on the other hand, is testing my patience more and more as he gets older.

Moreover, “a heavily corrected version of a euphoria elixir”? Really? I mean, fucking really?

Somebody explain to me — somebody who isn’t Rowling, that is — why didn’t Severus, our potions master, whose school book this is, teach these “corrected versions” of potions?

‘Well, now, this looks absolutely wonderful,’ said Slughorn clapping his hands together an hour and a half later, as he stared down into the sunshine-yellow contents of Harry’s cauldron. ‘Euphoria, I take it? And what’s that I smell? Mmmm … you’ve added just a sprig of peppermint, haven’t you? Unorthodox, but what a stroke of inspiration, Harry. Of course, that would tend to counterbalance the occasional side-effects of excessive singing and nose-tweaking … I really don’t know where you get these brainwaves, my boy … unless –’

Harry pushed the Half-Blood Prince’s book deeper into his bag with his foot.

‘– it’s just your mother’s genes coming out in you!’

I’m seriously getting closer and closer to killing Harry off ignominiously in all the fics.

And you know, this thing is such an utter stupid farce that the only thing I’m getting from this is that Lily? Wasn’t any more of a “potions genius” than her useless son and she was stealing it all from Severus too.

And now that I think of it, it would actually partially explain why Severus, our potions master, whose school book this is, didn’t teach these improved ways of making potions. Because Lily had already stolen all the credit from him.

So what I’m saying is, fuck these books.

‘Sir,’ Harry began, but Slughorn immediately glanced over his shoulder; when he saw that the room was empty but for himself and Harry he hurried away as fast as he could.

‘Professor – Professor, don’t you want to taste my po—?’ called Harry desperately.

You know, Harry, you would’ve had better luck dropping it into his pumpkin juice when he wasn’t looking. But why should the Boy Wonder strain himself? He can just take a shot of luck and the entire universe will fix itself for him as if it isn’t already doing that.

Disappointed, Harry emptied the cauldron . . .

Do they ever actually keep the successful potions they make in this class?

‘Harry!’ cried Hermione as she climbed through the portrait hole. ‘Harry, I passed!’

Like that was ever in doubt.

‘He – he just failed,’ whispered Hermione, as Ron came slouching into the room looking most morose.

Like that was ever in doubt either.

‘It’s a great feeling when you take it,’ said Ron reminiscently. ‘Like you can’t do anything wrong.’

‘What are you talking about?’ said Hermione, laughing. ‘You’ve never taken any!’

‘Yeah, but I thought I had, didn’t I?’ said Ron, as though explaining the obvious. ‘Same difference really …’

Well, why won’t the Boy Wonder just imagine he’s taken it? Same difference really.

As they had only just seen Slughorn enter the Great Hall and knew that he liked to take time over meals . . .

Noooo, that’s totally surprising! It’s not like Rowling has ever shown him to be an enormous obese hedonist!

Harry did not answer for a moment. Then, slowly but surely, an exhilarating sense of infinite opportunity stole through him; he felt as though he could have done anything, anything at all … and getting the memory from Slughorn seemed suddenly not only possible, but positively easy …

That must be a novel feeling for Harry.

‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘Really excellent. Right … I’m going down to Hagrid’s.’

‘What?’ said Ron and Hermione together, looking aghast.

‘No, Harry – you’ve got to go and see Slughorn, remember?’ said Hermione.

‘No,’ said Harry confidently. ‘I’m going to Hagrid’s, I’ve got a good feeling about going to Hagrid’s.’

Well, evidently the luck potion also controls the one who drinks it.

Can’t say that I’m surprised since Harry is utterly without a brain.

Harry laughed and Ron and Hermione looked even more alarmed.

Ha ha ha! The Boy Wonder never laughs, confirmed.

(Well, okay. He does consistently laugh at other people but it’s funnier if this was his first time laughing.)

‘Trust me,’ he said. ‘I know what I’m doing … or at least …’ he strolled confidently to the door, ‘Felix does.’

Well…

Heaven knows the kid wouldn’t get anything done if anything was actually left up to him.

Harry is seriously, like, one of the worst protagonists I’ve ever seen.

‘What were you doing up there with her?’ shrieked Lavender Brown, staring right through Harry at Ron and Hermione emerging together from the boys’ dormitories. Harry heard Ron spluttering behind him as he darted across the room away from them.

Oh nice, Harry magically helped his best friend break up too.

Getting through the portrait hole was simple; as he approached it, Ginny and Dean came through it and Harry was able to slip between them. As he did so, he brushed accidentally against Ginny.

‘Don’t push me, please, Dean,’ she said, sounding annoyed. ‘You’re always doing that, I can get through perfectly well on my own …’

The portrait swung closed behind Harry, but not before he had heard Dean make an angry retort … his feeling of elation increasing, Harry strode off through the castle.

This chapter isn’t long, is it? Because I’m genuinely becoming tired.

Also! Since this portrait hole is just a round hole high in the wall

. . . and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it – Neville needed a leg up –

how the fuck does Harry slip past between Ginny and Dean? Like, they literally have to climb through it? It’s round?

I just…

He did not have to creep along, for he met nobody on his way, but this did not surprise him in the slightest: this evening, he was the luckiest person at Hogwarts.

So how does that differ from the usual?

Why he knew that going to Hagrid’s was the right thing to do, he had no idea.

So how does that differ from the usual?

‘Never trust anything  that can think for itself . . .’

Indeed.

It was when he reached the bottom step that it occurred to him how very pleasant it would be to pass the vegetable patch on his walk to Hagrid’s. It was not strictly on the way, but it seemed clear to Harry that this was a whim on which he should act, so he directed his feet immediately towards the vegetable patch where he was pleased, but not altogether surprised, to find Professor Slughorn in conversation with Professor Sprout.

And yet Rowling just couldn’t write a complete farce either. For some baffling reason.

Because she certainly had Big and Important Things to say, that woman!

‘… I do thank you for taking the time, Pomona,’ Slughorn was saying courteously.

Sprout’s first name is Pomona!

The Roman goddess of fruit trees, huh. I guess that fits.

Professor Sprout headed off into the gathering darkness in the direction of her greenhouses . . .

Does this mean that Sprout lives in the greenhouses or does she just work really late?

‘I think Filch must’ve forgotten to lock the doors,’ said Harry cheerfully . . .

By the way, I forgot to mention this the first time it was mentioned, but what good does it do for Argus, who has no magic, to lock the front doors, presumably without magic, in a school filled with children who have magical powers? And this nifty spell called alohomora?

‘I’ll be reporting that man, he’s more concerned about litter than proper security if you ask me …’

Why should Argus even be responsible for security in a magic school? What good is he going to be even if something happens?

Oh! Something just occurred to me that didn’t occur to me earlier.

Both Argus and Arabella are squibs. And they both have an affinity for cats. They can seemingly communicate with them. So… does this actually mean anything or is this one more thing that Rowling didn’t think about or do anything with?

‘Well, sir, it’s Hagrid,’ said Harry, who knew that the right thing to do just now was to tell the truth.

my fancy artistic rendition

You know, I’ll just spam this picture from now on whenever this happens in this chapter.

‘I heard rumours there were Acromantula in the Forest,’ said Slughorn softly, looking over at the mass of black trees.

And nobody thought to do anything about it… why?

You know, I genuinely hope the inbred giant spiders eat these morons.

‘But Acromantula venom is very valuable … if the beast has only just died it might not yet have dried out … of course, I wouldn’t want to do anything insensitive if Hagrid is upset … but if there were any way to procure some … I mean, it’s almost impossible to get venom from an Acromantula while it’s alive …’

Oh.

So the giant inbred spiders are even venomous. How quaint.

‘… seems an awful waste not to collect it … might get a hundred Galleons a pint … to be frank, my salary is not large …’

Is this reference to his hedonistic habits or is the Hogwarts salary actually a pittance?

And now Harry saw clearly what was to be done.

my fancy artistic rendition

‘Yes, of course,’ said Slughorn, his eyes now gleaming with enthusiasm. ‘I tell you what, Harry, I’ll meet you down there with a bottle or two … we’ll drink the poor beast’s – well – not health – but we’ll send it off in style, anyway, once it’s buried. And I’ll change my tie, this one is a little exuberant for the occasion …’

Ha ha. He’s a little bit cute.

. . . Harry sped off to Hagrid’s, delighted with himself.

So how does that differ from the usual?

Hagrid gave a great sob. He had made himself a black armband out of what looked like a rag dipped in boot polish and his eyes were puffy, red and swollen.

Well, anyway. What’s the armband supposed to signify?

In Western culture, a black armband signifies that the wearer is in mourning or wishes to identify with the commemoration of a family member, friend, comrade or team member who has died.

— source: black armband

I see. There’s really no explanation on wiki of what it signifies, though.

I’m surprised Hagrid didn’t pluck out Aragog’s hair to make mourning hair jewellery. Would’ve been right up Hagrid’s alley too.

‘Blimey, no,’ said Hagrid, wiping his streaming eyes on the bottom of his shirt. ‘The other spiders won’ let me anywhere near their webs now Aragog’s gone. Turns out it was on’y on his orders they didn’ eat me! Can yeh believe that, Harry?’

Hagrid, I genuinely, from the bottom of my heart, hope you will be eaten alive before the end of your miserable life.

‘Never bin an area o’ the Forest I couldn’ go before!’ said Hagrid, shaking his head. ‘It wasn’ easy, gettin’ Aragog’s body out o’ there, I can tell yeh – they usually eat their dead, see … but I wanted ter give ’im a nice burial … a proper send-off …’

He broke into sobs again . . .

Let the inbred spiders eat their dead if they so wish, you miserable sod.

. . . and Harry resumed the patting of his elbow, saying as he did so (for the potion seemed to indicate that it was the right thing to do) . . .

my fancy artistic rendition

‘Not in trouble, are yeh?’ said Hagrid, looking up, alarmed. ‘Yeh shouldn’ be outta the castle in the evenin’, I know it, it’s my fault –’

Hagrid, seriously. Go fuck yourself.

It’s page 230 of 307. And we’re wasting almost an entire chapter on Hagrid.

‘Are we going to bury him here, Hagrid, in your garden?’

‘Jus’ beyond the pumpkin patch, I thought,’ said Hagrid in a choked voice. ‘I’ve already dug the – you know – grave.’

I would never eat or drink these pumpkins again.

Hagrid nodded and moved forwards. He heaved the gigantic spider into his arms and, with an enormous grunt, rolled it into the dark pit. It hit the bottom with a rather horrible, crunchy thud. Hagrid started to cry again.

And yet these books aren’t a complete farce either.

‘May your many-eyed descendants ever flourish and your human friends find solace for the loss they have sustained.’

Oh, I just bet Aragog’s inbred brood will flourish.

‘Tha’ was … tha’ was … beau’iful!’ howled Hagrid and he collapsed on to the compost heap, crying harder than ever.

Like, okay, there are some people who genuinely like spiders and insects. That’s fine even if it isn’t for me.

But Hagrid? I hope he gets eaten alive.

‘I have had it all tested for poison,’ he assured Harry, pouring most of the first bottle into one of Hagrid’s bucket-sized mugs and handing it to Hagrid. ‘Had a house-elf taste every bottle after what happened to your poor friend Rupert.’

Like, why should I care about the house-elves any more than the narrative evidently does?

Harry saw, in his mind’s eye, the expression on Hermione’s face if she ever heard about this abuse of house-elves, and decided never to mention it to her.

Ah, yes. But it’s Draco who is a bad master to elves.

Harry, however, with the way ahead illuminated for him by Felix Felicis, knew that he must not drink, so he merely pretended to take a gulp and then set the mug back on the table before him.

my fancy artistic rendition

Hagrid’s face darkened and Harry knew why: Tom Riddle had contrived to have Hagrid thrown out of school, blamed for opening the Chamber of Secrets.

Soooo~ Is anyone going to wonder how Tommy knew Hagrid had a pet spider and where he was keeping it or why they were on a first-name basis even though they were in different years and houses?

No?

Just me?

Okay then.

The Felix Felicis gave Harry a little nudge at this point and he noticed that the supply of drink that Slughorn had brought was running out fast. Harry had not yet managed to bring off the Refilling Charm without saying the incantation aloud, but the idea that he might not be able to do it tonight was laughable . . . he pointed his wand under the table at the emptying bottles and they immediately began to refill.

my fancy artistic rendition

And I guess I can be fair and count this as Harry’s twenty-second spell since we do see the spell take effect.

Hm?

*checks previous chapter*

Oh damn, I forgot to add levicorpus to the spell count even though I mentioned it. Well, I’ll just correct it in this chapter.

So this is finally our Boy Wonder’s twenty-third spell.

After an hour or so, Hagrid and Slughorn began making extravagant toasts: to Hogwarts, to Dumbledore, to elf-made wine and to –

‘Harry Potter!’ bellowed Hagrid, slopping some of his fourteenth bucket of wine down his chin as he drained it.

Not long after this, Hagrid became tearful again and pressed the whole unicorn tail upon Slughorn, who pocketed it with cries of, ‘To friendship! To generosity! To ten Galleons a hair!’

In spite of being creepy about students, Slughorn is kind of funny.

‘Aaargh, the good die young,’ muttered Hagrid, slumping low on to the table, a little cross-eyed, while Slughorn continued to warble the refrain. ‘Me dad was no age ter go … nor were your mum an’ dad, Harry …’

‘… bes’ wiz and witchard o’ their age I never knew … terrible thing … terrible thing …’

I sincerely doubt this considering all we’ve been shown of Lily and James. Not to mention they died at twenty-one and spent most of their short adulthood in hiding. So it’s not like they even had plenty of time to, you know, do something great to be great for.

‘Hagrid wasn’t talking about your singing,’ said Harry quietly. ‘He was talking about my mum and dad dying.’

‘No – well, I was only one when they died,’ said Harry, his eyes on the flame of the candle flickering in Hagrid’s heavy snores. ‘But I’ve found out pretty much what happened since. My dad died first. Did you know that?’

Aaaand we’re back to pretending that Harry totally for reals cares about his parents.

…..and the only reason why he’s doing it is to get what he wants, ha ha ha.

These books are a gift.

‘Yeah … Voldemort murdered him and then stepped over his body towards my mum,’ said Harry.

A fitting end for James, to be honest.

‘I forgot,’ lied Harry, Felix Felicis leading him on. ‘You liked her, didn’t you?’

my fancy artistic rendition

Harry is disclosing the gritty details of his parents’ murders without a hint of emotion to get what he wants.

Genuine question: what’s the difference between Harry and Tommy? Well, aside from Tommy being the slightest bit more competent than Harry, which isn’t really saying much.

‘Liked her?’ said Slughorn, his eyes brimming with tears once more. ‘I don’t imagine anyone who met her wouldn’t have liked her … very brave … very funny … it was the most horrible thing …’

That’s funny. I genuinely couldn’t care less about Lily.

‘But you won’t help her son,’ said Harry. ‘She gave me her life, but you won’t give me a memory.’

Well, at least he’s taking Dumbles’ lessons to heart.

He knew he was safe: Felix was telling him that Slughorn would remember nothing of this in the morning.

my fancy artistic rendition

‘I am the Chosen One. I have to kill him. I need that memory.’

Well, would you look at that. Harry, our humble protagonist extraordinaire, even calls himself the chosen one to get what he wants.

‘Be brave like my mother, Professor …’

Like, not to disparage Lily’s sacrifice(?) but I kind of doubt how much it had to do with bravery.

‘You’d cancel out anything you did by giving me the memory,’ said Harry. ‘It would be a very brave and noble thing to do.’

You’re laying it a little thick, Harry.

There was a long, long silence, but Felix Felicis told Harry not to break it, to wait.

my fancy artistic rendition

‘You’re a good boy,’ said Professor Slughorn . . .

You’re laying it a little thick too, Slughorn.

Okay, that’s it for this chapter.

Harry’s spell count so far: twenty-three.

‘Harry — you’re a great wizard, you know.’

To be honest, these picture heavy chapters are really difficult to do. *sighs*

Chapter Twenty-one – The Unknowable Room

I know I’ve been particularly slow and lazy with this book but it’s like, I seriously don’t have the faintest recollection whatsoever of what’s been going on in this book, ha ha? It doesn’t help that it’s been too hot so I’ve been feeling half-dead all the time.

But anyhow, I’ve been going through some of my previous chapter breakdowns and I noticed a few things that I didn’t comment on at the time.

‘Voldemort tried to kill you when you were a child because of a prophecy made shortly before your birth.’

From Book Five. To be fair to myself, at the time I was re-reading Book Five, I was mostly going DUMBLES STEP AWAY FROM THE UNDERAGE BOY so I didn’t really pay that much attention to the details of the dialogue.

Nevertheless, I think it was during my re-read of Book Three that apologised for thinking that the prophecy was made before Harry was born. I said this because in Book Three it was mentioned that the Potters went behind a Fidelius a week before their deaths.

‘He did,’ said Fudge heavily. ‘And then, barely a week after the Fidelius Charm had been performed –’

But evidently, the prophecy has existed since before Harry’s birth. Which would mean that the Potters were, indeed, hiding for a year and a half even if they weren’t behind a Fidelius Charm the entire time.

So, like… Okay.

Before Harry is born, Sybill gets a prophecy about Tommy’s downfall.

‘Voldemort tried to kill you when you were a child because of a prophecy made shortly before your birth.’

A year and a half of nothing, though Peter was gossiping with Tommy for a year before Tommy’s First Great Fuck-up.

“YOU’D BEEN PASSING INFORMATION TO HIM FOR A YEAR BEFORE LILY AND JAMES DIED!”

Then they get a Fidelius Charm, on Dumbles’ insistence just by-the-by, and a week later Tommy’s First Great Fuck-up happens.

And I’m just… I’m confused. Like, what did all of these characters do for a year and a half? Although I’m not exactly sure anymore where I came up with that year and a half either.

So according to my chapter one calculations, Tommy’s First Great Fuck-up happened on 26.10.1981. Harry was born on 31.7.1980. Let’s put these dates in one of the nifty online date calculators aaaand…

It’s apparently 452 days which means one year, two months and 26 days.

Well, okay. My mistake, ha ha. But what did they do for a year and three months? I mean, if Tommy found out that there’s a brat who is destined to be his downfall, you’d think he’d immediately go off the brat? But instead… he waits for a year and three months, while getting information from Peter, and only after they’re behind a Fidelius Charm does he decide to act?

Well, this is Tommy and that dude takes a year to do everything.

Oh no, wait. Now I remember: I always just assumed that Lily and James were hiding from around the time of Lily’s pregnancy until Tommy’s First Great Fuck-up.

Another thing was from this book actually.

‘That was not my fault!’ said Bellatrix, flushing. ‘The Dark Lord has, in the past, entrusted me with his most precious – if Lucius hadn’t –’

And at the time I wondered do I even want to know what the ‘most precious’ refers to. And it wasn’t until I looked at that sentence again recently that I realised it probably refers to Tommy’s diary?

But it kind of raises all sorts of questions, like how did Lucius get possession of Bella’s Tommy Collection and such.

I guess I need to get to the chapter proper now?

Harry racked his brains over the next week . . .

Did that hurt?

. . . but nothing in the nature of a brainwave occurred . . .

Not surprising. The poor thing isn’t used to doing strenuous things like thinking.

. . . and he was reduced to doing what he did increasingly these days when at a loss: poring over his Potions book, hoping that the Prince would have scribbled something useful in a margin, as he had done so many times before.

You know, there’s just… something bothering me about Harry using Severus’ old school book and spells. It might just be because Harry is James’ son and, well, anything of James’ shouldn’t get anywhere near anything of Severus’.

‘Don’t start, Hermione,’ said Harry. ‘If it hadn’t been for the Prince, Ron wouldn’t be sitting here now.’

So I guess that’s one more point on the “Severus was the real hero all along” list?

‘He would if you’d just listened to Snape in our first year,’ said Hermione dismissively.

Harry? Listen? To anything else than the voices in his head? Ha!

He had just found an incantation (Sectumsempra!) scrawled in a margin above the intriguing words ‘For Enemies’, and was itching to try it out, but thought it best not to in front of Hermione. Instead, he surreptitiously folded down the corner of the page.

You know, things like “accidentally eviscerating fellow students” wouldn’t happen if these morons just studied Latin and thus could make out what a hitherto unknown spell is supposed to do.

But on the other hand, this is Harry. Even if they did study Latin, this stupid moron wouldn’t learn.

There had been a certain amount of excitement earlier when they had come back from dinner to find a new sign on the noticeboard that announced the date for their Apparition test.

Why, though? From what I remember, you were all doing atrociously during practice?

Those who would be seventeen on or before the first test date, the twenty-first of April, had the option of signing up for additional practice sessions, which would take place (heavily supervised) in Hogsmeade.

Why? I mean, does it really matter if they’re all going to turn seventeen anyway in the same year?

Ron had panicked on reading this notice; he had still not managed to Apparate and feared he would not be ready for the test.

Well, Ron isn’t the only one?

Hermione, who had now achieved Apparition twice, was a little more confident . . .

Oh.

I am honestly so tired of Hermione’s entire character.

‘At least you can Apparate, though!’ said Ron tensely. ‘You’ll have no trouble come July!’

‘I’ve only done it once,’ Harry reminded him; he had finally managed to disappear and rematerialise inside his hoop during their previous lesson.

And of course, Harry the Boy Wonder of twenty-one spells also managed to apparate before Ron.

I’m just… becoming increasingly weary of these books.

Having wasted a lot of time worrying aloud about Apparition, Ron was now struggling to finish a viciously difficult essay for Snape that Harry and Hermione had already completed.

Rowling does mean “that Hermione had already completed and Harry copied from her”, right?

Because Harry certainly doesn’t do his own homework.

Harry fully expected to receive low marks on his, because he had disagreed with Snape on the best way to tackle Dementors . . .

Because Harry certainly has so much experience? Like, only succeeding from across the lake after realising he’s already done the spell and then one other time?

‘There’s only one way to force someone to do what you want, and that’s the Imperius Curse, which is illegal –’

Oh, that’s what you think, Hermione.

‘You’re going about it the wrong way,’ said Hermione. ‘Only you can get the memory, Dumbledore says. That must mean you can persuade Slughorn where other people can’t. It’s not a question of slipping him a potion, anyone could do that –’

Yeah, Dumbles wanted Harry to whore himself out.

‘How d’you spell “belligerent”?’ said Ron . . .

Oh my god, they’re all functionally illiterate. This is what happens when you don’t study languages at school.

‘It’s one of Fred and George’s Spell-Checking ones … but I think the charm must be wearing off …’

Oh, Ron’s just using a magical quill.

‘. . . and I don’t remember you changing your name to “Roonil Wazlib”, either.’

Ha ha! He should.

‘Ah, no!’ said Ron, staring horror-struck at the parchment. ‘Don’t say I’ll have to write the whole thing out again!’

‘It’s OK, we can fix it,’ said Hermione, pulling the essay towards her and taking out her wand.

Just to remind everyone: these people become aurors.

‘You haven’t ever chucked anyone, have you?’ said Ron. ‘You and Cho just –’

‘Sort of fell apart, yeah,’ said Harry.

Well, that’s certainly an euphemistic way of putting it.

‘Wish that would happen with me and Lavender,’ said Ron gloomily, watching Hermione silently tapping each of his misspelled words with the end of her wand, so that they corrected themselves on the page. ‘But the more I hint I want to finish it, the tighter she holds on. It’s like going out with the Giant Squid.’

Ron, sweetheart, why are you like this towards a girl who actually seems to like you? You know, unlike that spitting image of your mother?

‘Dobby has been helping too, Harry Potter!’ he squeaked, casting Kreacher a resentful look. ‘And Kreacher ought to tell Dobby when he is coming to see Harry Potter so they can make their reports together!’

You know, I honestly despise this foul creature and I can’t wait for him to kick it.

‘What is this?’ asked Hermione, still looking shocked by these sudden appearances. ‘What’s going on, Harry?’

Well, Miss Free All Elves, your “best friend” is busily using two house-elves to do his dirty work.

‘Dobby has not slept for a week, Harry Potter!’ said Dobby proudly, swaying where he stood.

As I said in the previous chapter about Dobby and his house-elveness.

‘You haven’t slept, Dobby? But surely, Harry, you didn’t tell him not to –’

So fun fact. Kreacher also lets us know that he hasn’t slept for a week

‘Night and day,’ croaked Kreacher.

and Miss House-elf Liberation Front only asks about Dobby.

‘Master Malfoy moves with a nobility that befits his pure blood,’ croaked Kreacher at once. ‘His features recall the fine bones of my mistress and his manners are those of –’

Ha ha! Oh, Kreacher. He kind of makes me feel like keeping the house-elves in my fics just so I can let him serve the Malfoys. *sighs* Instead, the poor thing was forced to serve Harry.

I can just imagine it too. Like, he’d leave Draco these little love notes in which he waxes poetic about him and Draco would be bemused, thinking what a strange creature, but otherwise shrugging with the thought “well, it’s nice to be appreciated”.

‘Draco Malfoy is a bad boy!’ squeaked Dobby angrily. ‘A bad boy who – who –’

He shuddered from the tassel of his tea cosy to the toes of his socks and then ran at the fire, as though about to dive into it; Harry, to whom this was not entirely unexpected, caught him around the middle and held him fast.

Dobby, on the other hand, can, like, die at his earliest convenience.

Rowling is such a tease. *sighs*

Harry released him; Dobby straightened his tea cosy and said defiantly to Kreacher, ‘But Kreacher should know that Draco Malfoy is not a good master to a house-elf!’

Okay? How about showing it then instead of telling us?

Moreover~ unlike Harry, huh? Who is such a tremendously good master to house-elves that he doesn’t even care they haven’t slept for a week on his unwitting orders:

‘Well … they’ve been following Malfoy for me,’ he said.

‘Night and day,’ croaked Kreacher.

‘Dobby has not slept for a week, Harry Potter!’ said Dobby proudly, swaying where he stood.

‘You haven’t slept, Dobby? But surely, Harry, you didn’t tell him not to –’

‘No, of course I didn’t,’ said Harry quickly. ‘Dobby, you can sleep, all right? But has either of you found out anything?’ he hastened to ask, before Hermione could intervene again.

Notice that there’s not a word said that Kreacher can sleep. Which means that Kreacher has to keep tailing Draco without sleep.

‘Yeah, we don’t need to hear about you being in love with Malfoy,’ Harry told Kreacher.

No, no, I’d rather keep hearing about how beautiful and graceful and well-mannered Draco is.

Kreacher bowed again, looking furious, and then said, ‘Master Malfoy eats in the Great Hall, he sleeps in a dormitory in the dungeons, he attends his classes in a variety of –’

Oh, Kreacher. He’s a delight. Even after Harry forbid him from warning Draco and ordered him to tail him, he’s still trying to stall and hedge.

‘Harry Potter, sir,’ squeaked Dobby, his great orblike eyes shining in the firelight, ‘the Malfoy boy is breaking no rules that Dobby can discover . . .’

Oh really now? Unlike certain other boy whose name we shall not name?

‘The Room of Requirement!’ said Harry, smacking himself hard on the forehead with Advanced Potion-Making.

Evidently Harry getting a thought does hurt.

And I bet that’s why he’s been disappearing off the map – come to think of it, I’ve never seen the Room of Requirement on there!’

‘Maybe the Marauders never knew the Room was there,’ said Ron.

‘I think it’ll be part of the magic of the Room,’ said Hermione. ‘If you need it to be unplottable, it will be.’

You know, what does that even mean, in practical terms? Couldn’t the Previous Foursome of Psychopaths and Terrible Friends have left, like, this suspicious empty space around where the room is supposed to be? Or some kind of hint that “not all is right with this spot”?

‘No, it’s not,’ said Harry at once. ‘Malfoy got into our Headquarters there last year, so I’ll be able to get in and spy on him, no problem.’

Yes, Harry, but unlike you, Draco actually has a brain. With varying degrees of success, depending on how tightly Rowling is controlling him for her “plot”, such as it were.

‘But I don’t think you will, Harry,’ said Hermione slowly. ‘Malfoy already knew exactly how we were using the Room, didn’t he, because that stupid Marietta had blabbed.’

Well, Hermione, you’re one to talk considering that you didn’t jinx your nifty little paper of names with any sort of preventive measure. You vindictive little cunt, you.

Furthermore~ will it by chance ever occur to you to, you know, maybe get rid of the scars on Marietta’s face? After all, it’s already been a year.

Marietta totally dropped out because of this girl, didn’t she? She’ll never have legal employment. She’ll either turn to thievery, beggary, or suicide.

‘Kreacher’s done well, too,’ said Hermione kindly; but far from looking grateful, Kreacher averted his huge, bloodshot eyes and croaked at the ceiling, ‘The Mudblood is speaking to Kreacher, Kreacher will pretend he cannot hear –’

Ha ha! Oh, he had so much potential. Poor Kreacher.

I wish I could pretend not to hear Hermione too. Especially in the video games in which she nags at you constantly.

Also, come to think of it. Since Hermione thought she could free the house-elves just by leaving knitted litter around and in spite of not being their master, then surely she could order them to take care of themselves? And again, the problem isn’t that she doesn’t do this, it’s that she doesn’t even try.

‘But what’s all this about him going up there with a “variety of students”?’ said Hermione. ‘How many people are in on it? You wouldn’t think he’d trust lots of them to know what he’s doing …’

Even though Draco is currently using just Vincent and Gregory, Draco, unlike you lot, actually gets along with other students.

You know, when Rowling isn’t in the mood for shitting all over his character.

‘God, I’ve been stupid,’ he said quietly.

*nods fervently in agreement*

Now if only he’d realise he’s stupid about everything, that would be grand.

‘It’s obvious, isn’t it? There was a great vat of it down in the dungeon … he could’ve nicked some any time during that lesson …’

You know, the thing is… Harry isn’t exactly deducing this from the suspiciousness of the “variety of students” or the girls he’s seen with Draco. This is Rowling literally planting the thought in his head because we’re already at page 217 of  307.

THERE ARE LESS THAN A HUNDRED PAGES LEFT?

*cries with happiness*

‘Polyjuice Potion. He stole some of the Polyjuice Potion Slughorn showed us in our first Potions lesson … there aren’t a whole variety of students standing guard for Malfoy … it’s just Crabbe and Goyle as usual … yeah, it all fits!’ said Harry, jumping up and starting to pace in front of the fire. ‘They’re stupid enough to do what they’re told even if he won’t tell them what he’s up to …’

Or maybe they’re just loyal?

You know, unlike the Golden Trio of Nitwits who attack their “friends” when they try to demand or ask what they’re up to.

How is a single writer so full of crap?

‘He’s got Crabbe and Goyle transforming into girls?’ guffawed Ron. ‘Blimey … no wonder they don’t look too happy these days … I’m surprised they don’t tell him to stuff it …’

‘Well, they wouldn’t, would they, if he’s shown them his Dark Mark,’ said Harry.

OR MAYBE THEY’RE FRIENDS?

UNLIKE YOU LOT?

Oh gods, I hope this chapter doesn’t go on much longer.

Still eleven pages.

‘Hmmm … the Dark Mark we don’t know exists,’ said Hermione sceptically, rolling up Ron’s dried essay before it could come to any more harm and handing it to him.

‘We’ll see,’ said Harry confidently.

You know, Harry, you’ve been right, like, once in these entire books?

To be honest, I’d much rather be playing Tomb Raider and Lara Croft.

‘Wish I could Disapparate like a house-elf,’ said Ron, staring at the spot where Dobby had vanished. ‘I’d have that Apparition test in the bag.’

Crack.

. . . and Kreacher made one last deep bow and Disapparated.

. . . squeaked Dobby happily, and he, too, vanished.

Hey, come to think of it: here’s canon confirmation that house-elves can, indeed, apparate and disapparate at Hogwarts. Peeves included.

Hermione was rather ostentatiously showing no interest in his whispered plans for forcing entry into the Room, which irritated Harry, because he thought she might be a lot of help if she wanted to.

You know, what does it say that even these morons are completely disinterested in what’s happening in this book?

‘I haven’t forgotten about Slughorn, but I haven’t got a clue how to get that memory off him, and until I get a brainwave why shouldn’t I find out what Malfoy’s doing?’

Oh, Harry. If you wait around for a ‘brainwave’ you’re never going to get that memory.

‘I’ve already told you, you need to persuade Slughorn,’ said Hermione.

Whore himself out. *sotto voce*

. . . ‘you should go and find Slughorn and start appealing to his better nature.’

*cough* Whore himself out. *cough*

‘Yes!’ said Hermione, causing both Harry and Ron to gag on their breakfast, ‘but it’s all right, he’s not dead – it’s Mundungus, he’s been arrested and sent to Azkaban!’

Finally one of these characters faces the consequences of their own actions.

‘Something to do with impersonating an Inferius during an attempted burglary …’

So… he’s not… even getting jail time for the burglary but for impersonating an inferius?

Also, impersonating? How do you impersonate a zombie?

Like, maybe I’m not just aware of this because I’m not a native speaker, but doesn’t ‘impersonate’ mean ‘assuming someone else’s identity’?

‘… oh, and how horrible, a nine-year-old boy has been arrested for trying to kill his grandparents, they think he was under the Imperius Curse …’

Maybe the grandparents were abusive like every other parent in these books?

. . . but at least his first attempt was not going to be complicated by the presence of Crabbe or Goyle pretending to be an eleven-year-old girl.

I’m still curious from whence Draco’s getting these eleven-year-old girls’ hair and if he’s buying them, I don’t want to know.

These books are already a nightmare. I don’t need to add that to the pile.

He knew what he had to do; he had become most accomplished at it last year.

Ha ha! Oh, Harry had become most accomplished at “concentrating and thinking a sentence three times”.

Concentrating with all his might he thought, I need to see what Malfoy’s doing in here … I need to see what Malfoy’s doing in here … I need to see what Malfoy’s doing in here …

Three times he walked past the door, then, his heart pounding with excitement, he opened his eyes and faced it – but he was still looking at a stretch of mundanely blank wall.

You know, I really like the thought of this room being on Draco’s side. Gods know no one else is. Well, aside from his parents. But his dad is currently in jail and his mum is a hostage.

I need to see the place where Malfoy keeps coming secretly … I need to see the place where Malfoy keeps coming secretly …

*raises eyebrows*

You can really take that sentence the wrong way, Harry.

I need you to become the place you become for Draco Malfoy …

No can do, Harry. You aren’t Draco of the Fine Bones~.

*sighs*

He totally has a heart-shaped face too. Harry is just too much of a git to say it, but he has no trouble calling the actual murderer of his parents handsome.

Harry swore. Someone screamed. He looked around to see a gaggle of first-years running back round the corner, apparently under the impression that they had just encountered a particularly foul-mouthed ghost.

Ha ha, so cute.

Harry tried every variation of ‘I need to see what Draco Malfoy is doing inside you’ . . .

Harry! That’s a scandalous thing to think! Maybe the room is a classy lady?

‘Late again, Potter,’ said Snape coldly, as Harry hurried into the candlelit classroom. ‘Ten points from Gryffindor.’

Harry scowled at Snape as he flung himself into the seat beside Ron . . .

He’s honestly such a disrespectful little gremlin.

. . . half the class was still on its feet, taking out books and organising its things; he could not be much later than any of them.

That still doesn’t mean you aren’t late?

‘If you had actually read the article in question, Mr Finnigan, you would have known that the so-called Inferius was nothing but a smelly sneak-thief by the name of Mundungus Fletcher.’

Hee. Oh, Severus, you and your way with words. ♡

‘I thought Snape and Mundungus were on the same side?’ muttered Harry to Ron and Hermione. ‘Shouldn’t he be upset Mundungus has been arrest—?’

Like, why?

Literally why should Severus be upset about some petty criminal on “his side” getting arrested?

‘But Potter seems to have a lot to say on the subject,’ said Snape, pointing suddenly at the back of the room, his black eyes fixed on Harry. ‘Let us ask Potter how we would tell the difference between an Inferius and a ghost.’

You know, you are kind of asking for this if you talk during class.

‘Oh, very good,’ interrupted Snape, his lip curling. ‘Yes, it is easy to see that nearly six years of magical education have not been wasted on you, Potter. Ghosts are transparent.’

Ha ha ha!

Hey, I’m just saying~ but Harry has consistently not recognised any of the magical creatures in spite of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them being on his curriculum in Book One.

Pansy Parkinson let out a high-pitched giggle.

Ha ha, she’s rather cute too.

Several other people were smirking.

I just bet they were all slytherins because gryffindors Would Never!

Harry took a deep breath and continued calmly, though his insides were boiling, ‘Yeah, ghosts are transparent, but Inferi are dead bodies, aren’t they? So they’d be solid –’

‘A five-year-old could have told us as much,’ sneered Snape. ‘The Inferius is a corpse that has been reanimated by a Dark wizard’s spells. It is not alive, it is merely used like a puppet to do the wizard’s bidding. A ghost, as I trust that you are all aware by now, is the imprint of a departed soul left upon the earth … and of course, as Potter so wisely tells us, transparent.’

Well, I mean… honestly? Harry does come across as a five-year-old in his reply.

‘Transparent’. ‘Dead bodies’. ‘Solid’.

Like, none of that is really relevant to the question?

‘Well, what Harry said is the most useful if we’re trying to tell them apart!’ said Ron. ‘When we come face to face with one down a dark alley we’re going to be having a shufti to see if it’s solid, aren’t we, we’re not going to be asking, “Excuse me, are you the imprint of a departed soul?”’

Well, it is rather cute that Ron is defending his friend. But like, Ron, please.

Also, ‘shufti’?

*checks the dictionary*

Oh, a brief glance. Aren’t they just suddenly becoming English dictionaries?

Besides, Ron:

‘The Inferius is a corpse that has been reanimated . . .’

‘A ghost, as I trust that you are all aware by now, is the imprint of a departed soul . . .’

It was already in Severus’ answer, you little Harry simp, you.

‘Another ten points from Gryffindor,’ said Snape. ‘I would expect nothing more sophisticated from you, Ronald Weasley, the boy so solid he cannot Apparate half an inch across a room.’

*sighs happily*

Severus really does have a way with words.

‘And I hope for your sakes they are better than the tripe I had to endure on resisting the Imperius Curse.’

‘Now open your books at page two hundred and thirteen,’ said Snape, smirking a little, ‘and read the first two paragraphs on the Cruciatus Curse …’

Didn’t they already go through this stuff in Book Four? I distinctly remember they even got practical demonstrations.

Oh, wait. Fake-Moody did say something about these being usually sixth-year material.

Ron was very subdued all through the class.

Oh, cry me a fucking river. Like, let’s be real honest here: his sociopathic brothers have said and done worse things to him. Ron’s said and done worse things to others.

When the bell sounded at the end of the lesson, Lavender caught up with Ron and Harry (Hermione mysteriously melted out of sight as she approached) and abused Snape hotly for his jibe about Ron’s Apparition, but this seemed merely to irritate Ron, and he shook her off by making a detour into the boys’ bathroom with Harry.

Lavender deserves better. I shall have to adopt her too.

‘Snape’s right, though, isn’t he?’ said Ron, after staring into a cracked mirror for a minute or two.

*raises eyebrows*

Aside from how he’s treating Lavender, Ron has become surprisingly reasonable in this book.

‘Nobody,’ said Myrtle, picking moodily at a spot on her chin. ‘He said he’d come back and see me . . .’

Ha ha, Draco did? Why is that image so cute?

‘I thought you lived in that girls’ bathroom?’ said Harry, who had been careful to give the place a wide berth for some years now.

It’s the girls’ bathroom, Harry? It’s not like you have to go out of your way not to go there?

‘I do,’ she said, with a sulky little shrug, ‘but that doesn’t mean I can’t visit other places. I came and saw you in your bath once, remember?’

‘Vividly,’ said Harry.

Of course Harry remembers the one and only bath he’s ever had.

‘But I thought he liked me,’ she said plaintively. ‘Maybe if you two left, he’d come back again … we had lots in common … I’m sure he felt it …’

Ha ha, you do? With Draco? What on earth did they talk about before Draco promised to come visit later?

‘When you say you had lots in common,’ said Ron, sounding rather amused now, ‘d’you mean he lives in an S-bend, too?’

Ahahahaha…

No, but he lives in the S-house.

‘No,’ said Myrtle defiantly, her voice echoing loudly around the old tiled bathroom. ‘I mean he’s sensitive, people bully him, too, and he feels lonely and hasn’t got anybody to talk to, and he’s not afraid to show his feelings and cry!’

Aww… I’m starting to warm up to Draco/Myrtle.

I bet Draco would find Myrtle’s voyeuristic habits funny too.

‘Never you mind!’ said Myrtle, her small, leaky eyes fixed on Ron, who was now definitely grinning. ‘I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone and I’ll take his secret to the –’

‘– not the grave, surely?’ said Ron with a snort. ‘The sewers, maybe …’

Eh, I’d probably have said this too.

And so the following weekend, Ron joined Hermione and the rest of the sixth-years who would turn seventeen in time to take the test in a fortnight.

So wait… Hermione’s birthday was in September? And Hogwarts starts on 1st September? Does that mean that Hermione is, in fact, a year older than these two morons?

*checks potterwikia*

Well, would you look at that. She was born on 19 September 1979.

…..I’m gonna have to either change her birthday or put her a year above in that Harry Potter character tree I’ve been making. Well, considering that she’s not going to be friends with either Ron or Harry in that rewrite!AU, I guess it doesn’t matter. But on the other hand, she needs to go to the same classes as Draco… Hm… decisions, decisions…

However, he had decided to use the time to attempt another assault on the Room of Requirement.

That’s a scandalous thing to say, Harry.

‘He doesn’t want to talk to me, Hermione! He can tell I’ve been trying to get him on his own again and he’s not going to let it happen!’

Well, if you’d shown some cunning the first time instead of just straight-up asking about the horcruxes then maybe you wouldn’t be in this fix right now?

But what am I saying, cunning is a filthy slytherin trait and we don’t abide by that.

The short queue of people waiting to file past Filch, who was doing his usual prodding act with the Secrecy Sensor, moved forwards a few steps and Harry did not answer in case he was overheard by the caretaker.

No seriously, why is Argus doing this? What use is he going to be?

As it was Sunday morning, nearly all the students were inside their various common rooms, the Gryffindors in one tower, the Ravenclaws in another, the Slytherins in the dungeons and the Hufflepuffs in the basement near the kitchens.

Soooo… are these all first- and second-years or are they still not allowed to visit Hogsmeade? Aside from the sixth-years taking apparition lessons apparently?

There was no sign of the Room of Requirement, but Harry was not worried about that; if Goyle was standing guard outside it, the Room was open, whether the map was aware of it or not. He therefore sprinted up the stairs, slowing down only when he reached the corner into the corridor, when he began to creep, very slowly, towards the very same little girl, clutching her heavy brass scales, that Hermione had so kindly helped a fortnight before. He waited until he was right behind her before bending very low and whispering, ‘Hello … you’re very pretty, aren’t you?’

A kind reminder: Gregory is currently disguised as an eleven-year-old girl. And this is what Harry decides to say to him to get him to scamper off.

Laughing, Harry turned to contemplate the blank wall behind which, he was sure, Draco Malfoy was now standing frozen, aware that someone unwelcome was out there, but not daring to make an appearance. It gave Harry a most agreeable feeling of power . . .

*sighs*

Harry, you’re honestly such a complete freak.

Losing his patience completely, Harry ran at the wall and kicked it.

‘OUCH!’

He thought he might have broken his toe; as he clutched it and hopped on one foot, the Invisibility Cloak slipped off him.

Honestly, I hope he broke his toe a bit.

He spun round, one-legged, and toppled over. There, to his utter astonishment, was Tonks, walking towards him as though she frequently strolled up this corridor.

The fuck is Nymphadora doing there?

‘I came to see Dumbledore,’ said Tonks.

Okay? Why?

Harry thought she looked terrible; thinner than usual, her mouse-coloured hair lank.

Oh, how terrible. *monotone*

‘His office isn’t here,’ said Harry, ‘it’s round the other side of the castle, behind the gargoyle –’

Okay? How did Dumbles then wander there in search of a toilet (Book Four)? Was he just full of shite like usual?

‘The Prophet’s often behind the times,’ said Tonks, who didn’t seem to be listening to him. ‘You haven’t had any letters from anyone in the Order recently?’

‘No one from the Order writes to me any more,’ said Harry, ‘not since Sirius –’

Is the order even around anymore? It most certainly doesn’t feel like it.

He saw that her eyes had filled with tears.

‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered awkwardly. ‘I mean … I miss him, as well …’

‘What?’ said Tonks blankly, as though she had not heard him. ‘Well … I’ll see you around, Harry …’

You know, I just find it extremely funny that everyone thinks Nymphadora is heartbroken about her cousin when in actuality she’s heartbroken about a crush she’s had for about a few months.

Finally, a hollow feeling in his stomach and the knowledge that Ron and Hermione would soon be back for lunch made him abandon the attempt and leave the corridor to Malfoy who, hopefully, would be too afraid to leave for some hours to come.

Poor Draco. Getting stalked by psychopathic celebrities. What is the world coming to.

‘I was supposed to be Apparating to outside Madam Puddifoot’s teashop and I overshot it a bit, ended up near Scrivenshaft’s, but at least I moved!’

Scrivenshaft… I don’t remember if this shop has been mentioned before and I’m too tired to go look.

‘Oh, she was perfect, obviously,’ said Ron, before Hermione could answer. ‘Perfect deliberation, divination and desperation, or whatever the hell it is – we all went for a quick drink in the Three Broomsticks after and you should’ve heard Twycross going on about her – I’ll be surprised if he doesn’t pop the question soon –’

Honestly? Hermione also can go die at her earliest convenience.

‘I had a thought,’ said Harry tentatively. He felt strange about voicing it; this was much more Hermione’s territory than his. ‘You don’t think she can have been … you know … in love with Sirius?’

Hermione stared at him.

‘What on earth makes you say that?’

‘I dunno,’ said Harry, shrugging, ‘but she was nearly crying when I mentioned his name … and her Patronus is a big four-legged thing now … I wondered whether it hadn’t become … you know … him.’

Well, he is almost grasping at the truth.

Also, at least… somewhat convoluted cousin marriages are okay in this world?

Funny that Harry would say that, though.

*does a rudimentary internet search*

Huh. Apparently cousin marriages are still legal in England. Well, even though it was never outlawed, it apparently became far less common after the first world war.

Hmm… my conspiracy senses are tingling.

‘Goes back to what I said, doesn’t it?’ said Ron, who was now shovelling mashed potato into his mouth. ‘She’s gone a bit funny. Lost her nerve. Women,’ he said wisely to Harry. ‘They’re easily upset.’

‘And yet,’ said Hermione, coming out of her reverie, ‘I doubt you’d find a woman who sulked for half an hour because Madam Rosmerta didn’t laugh at their joke about the hag, the Healer and the Mimbulus mimbletonia.’

Oh, unlike you, Hermione, who regularly does:

Hermione burst into tears.

‘You two are so stupid!’ she shouted, stamping her foot on the ground, tears splashing down her front. Then, before either of them could stop her, she had given both of them a hug, and dashed away, now positively howling.

Harry spun round to see Hermione pointing her wand at Ron, her expression wild: the little flock of birds was speeding like a hail of fat golden bullets towards Ron, who yelped and covered his face with his hands, but the birds attacked, pecking and clawing at every bit of flesh they could reach.

Because Hermione sure is, like, the picture of imperturbability and maturity.

*massive eye roll*

Also, wasn’t mimbulus mimbletonia that plant?

Harry’s spell count so far: twenty-one.

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

And that’s another chapter down!

We are slowly but surely getting these books over with and good riddance.

I mean, we’re on chapter twenty-two next and page 224 of 307. And these stupid fucking characters haven’t done anything. And even these stupid fucking characters are completely uninterested in what’s going on in this book.

Chapter Twenty – Lord Voldemort’s Request

I was thinking. About the house-elves. You see, one of the arguments for slavery was always that some people are just born to be slaves. Now, you can argue amongst yourselves whether that’s true or false, right or wrong, but in the context of Harry Potters? It’s actually kind of true if you think about it.

I mean, the house-elves like work. They’re happy doing work and most of them have conniptions if they think they’re going to have clothes, money or freedom. For example, even Dobby never disliked work or obsequiously serving people (see Dumbles and Harry). He just disliked the Malfoys and their implied abusive ways. He also happened to have a fetish for clothes and money even though I don’t know what he needs the money for. But then I’m not sure what any of these characters need money for aside from school supplies, I guess. But just because Dobby now gets clothes and money, it doesn’t mean he acts any less like a house-elf, you get me?

What this means is that the message in Harry Potters basically becomes less that “slavery is bad” and more that “bad slave masters are bad”, hence Harry gets his own little slave, the darling.

I mean, think about it. Hermione was having all sorts of conniptions about the house-elves being slaves but then her supposed best friend gets one and there’s not a single word of protest out of her mouth? She could’ve discussed it with Harry, convince him to free Kreacher because it’s not like they need him anymore, right? Is the order even functional anymore in Book Six? It certainly doesn’t feel like it, what with the tiresome focus on teenage relationship drama.

We almost, finally, had a plot in these books. And Rowling wasted it on teenage relationship drama.

Also, one more thing from the previous books:

Harry’s mood suddenly lifted. His father had not been a prefect either.

From Book Five.

‘Now, yer mum an’ dad were as good a witch an’ wizard as I ever knew. Head Boy an’ Girl at Hogwarts in their day!’

From Book One.

So you don’t actually have to be a prefect first before becoming head boy or did Rowling just forget details again?

…..oh no, don’t tell me that Dumbles made James a head boy as a reward for “saving” Severus?

Harry and Ron left the hospital wing first thing on Monday morning . . . and now able to enjoy the benefits of having been knocked out and poisoned, the best of which was that Hermione was friends with Ron again.

Uh-huh.

Sure.

Hermione even escorted them down to breakfast, bringing with her the news that Ginny had argued with Dean. The drowsing creature in Harry’s chest suddenly raised its head, sniffing the air hopefully.

Harry, I know this is impossible for you but please stop being such a weird freak. And I’m saying this as someone who is going to write Ginny together with her brother — which, I still unironically think, is better than being with you.

. . . as they turned into a seventh-floor corridor which was deserted but for a very small girl who had been examining a tapestry of trolls in tutus. She looked terrified at the sight of the approaching sixth-years and dropped the heavy brass scales she was carrying.

Hey, it’s Vincent or Gregory!

Okay, so I have a couple of questions:

One) From whence is Draco getting these hairs to polyjuice them into, ha ha?

Two) Wasn’t the polyjuice potion illegal? So they probably don’t, like, sell random hair at potions shops? Oh, but I guess he could’ve gotten it from Knockturn Alley.

Three) But why would they sell little girl hair for polyjuice potions? The more I think about it, the worse every answer gets.

So… let’s just put that aside for now.

‘It’s all right!’ said Hermione kindly, hurrying forwards to help her. ‘Here …’ She tapped the broken scales with her wand and said, ‘Reparo.’

Aww, look, she’s being nice.

I would bring up the examples in which Hermione is distinctly not nice to seeming first-years but, to be honest, I’ve been so lazy and slow about re-reading these books lately that I can’t remember in which chapters they were in, ha ha.

But I distinctly remember they exist because I kept pointing out “aww, it’s a good thing it’s only Draco who bullies first-years, right?”

‘Never mind her,’ said Harry, a little impatiently. ‘What did Ginny and Dean row about, Hermione?’

Harry, though, would’ve made such a wunderfull prefect. It’s a shame that Dumbles didn’t make him one.

‘Oh, Dean was laughing about McLaggen hitting that Bludger at you,’ said Hermione.

‘It must’ve looked funny,’ said Ron reasonably.

I agree, Ron. ❤

Like, Ron is so sweet and reasonable sometimes, and then there are times when he’s distinctly not, and then there are times when Rowling is doing that “Ron is a total loser and we should hate him for shits and giggles because no one gets to be better than the Boy Wonder!”

*sighs*

It’s Book Six, Rowling has tried to destroy his character for the past two books, and Ron is still showing more potential for leadership than Harry.

‘It didn’t look funny at all!’ said Hermione hotly. ‘It looked terrible, and if Coote and Peakes hadn’t caught Harry he could have been very badly hurt!’

Oh, please.

‘Lucky the ground was so soft.’

‘I thought he was dead for sure.’

‘But he didn’t even break his glasses.’

‘You fell off,’ said Fred. ‘Must’ve been — what — fifty feet?’

Never mind that he falls off his broom every year.

I mean, in a way it’s nice that finally one of these characters says something about laughing at other characters’ misery, bullying or abuse. But on the other hand, that’s all they laugh about. That’s all Ginny and Harry’s relationship is based on: laughing at other people.

‘Yeah, well, there was no need for Ginny and Dean to split up over it,’ said Harry, still trying to sound casual. ‘Or are they still together?’

A “row” doesn’t mean “break-up”, you weirdo.

She thrust what appeared to be a green onion, a large spotted toadstool and a considerable amount of what looked like cat litter into Ron’s hands . . .

Ha ha. Are there Ron/Luna fics? I once read one in which Luna was Draco’s ex-girlfriend.

It was a small roll of parchment, which Harry recognised at once as another invitation to a lesson with Dumbledore.

Why doesn’t Dumbles use owls to send these letters to the Boy Wonder instead of using random students? Like, does he specifically look for these students so they could give letters to the Boy Wonder?

My already extremely low opinion of Dumbles keeps going lower with each book.

‘Nice commentary last match!’ said Ron to Luna, as she took back the green onion, the toadstool and the cat litter. Luna smiled vaguely.

‘You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?’ she said. ‘Everyone says I was dreadful.’

‘No, I’m serious!’ said Ron earnestly. ‘I can’t remember enjoying commentary more! What is this, by the way?’ he added, holding the onionlike object up to eye-level.

Aww, evidently the poisoning did good for Ron’s character. He’s back to being so sweet in this chapter.

Well, it’s only the second page so I’m sure Rowling still has time to shit all over him.

Ron looked both sulky and annoyed when he appeared at breakfast half an hour later, and though he sat with Lavender, Harry did not see them exchange a word all the time they were together. Hermione was acting as though she was quite oblivious to all of this, but once or twice Harry saw an inexplicable smirk cross her face. All that day she seemed to be in a particularly good mood . . .

So what’s the reason again why these two idiots couldn’t inflict themselves on each other? Instead of, you know, taking this roundabout way that ended up hurting perfectly nice girls like Lavender? And Viktor, I guess. But that happened more because of Hermione’s obsession with Harry instead of Ron.

. . . and that evening in the common room she even consented to look over (in other words, finish writing) Harry’s Herbology essay, something she had been resolutely refusing to do up to that point, because she had known that Harry would then let Ron copy his work.

A kind reminder: these utter morons become aurors.

And your favourite female character, Hermione Granger Extraordinaire~ The Girl Boss! — only exist to be 1) an exposition device, 2) plot device and 3) to do the hero’s homework.

At least my favourite female character is Lara Croft (the original, the reboot ones can go die in a fire for all I care).

‘Thanks a lot, Hermione,’ said Harry, giving her a hasty pat on the back . . .

And all she gets for thanks is a hasty pat on the back?

Just…

How on earth did people ship these two together? Like, I assume for most Hermione/Harry shippers, Hermione was their favourite character? So why did they want to inflict Harry on her?

She did not answer, but merely crossed out a few of his feebler sentences in a weary sort of way. Grinning, Harry hurried out through the portrait hole . . .

No but, like, seriously. All the ships in Harry Potters are awful. Well, except Vernon and Petunia. And Lucius and Narcissa when he isn’t acting like a lapdog for Tommy.

‘Very well,’ said Professor Trelawney, in a deeply wounded voice. ‘If you will not banish the usurping nag, so be it … perhaps I shall find a school where my talents are better appreciated …’

Like, I honestly have almost zero memory of what was going on in the previous chapters but who is she talking about?

I should’ve tried to re-read this book faster than one chapter per month, ha ha.

‘Professor Trelawney still isn’t happy Firenze is teaching, then?’ Harry asked.

Oh. Okay. Sybill was talking about Firenze. I don’t know, “usurping nag” made me think of a female character.

‘. . . nor can I ask Sybill Trelawney to leave. Between ourselves, she has no idea of the danger she would be in outside the castle.’

I have been saying that Dumbles hired Sybill just to keep an eye on her since Book — I don’t remember. But I called it almost immediately.

‘She does not know – and I think it would be unwise to enlighten her – that she made the prophecy about you and Voldemort, you see.’

DUMBLES, STOP MAKING THESE DECISIONS ON BEHALF OF OTHERS, YOU PATRONISING CREEP.

‘I see,’ said Dumbledore eventually, peering at Harry over the top of his half-moon spectacles and giving Harry the usual sensation that he was being X-rayed.

He’s reading Harry’s mind again. *sotto voce*

‘And you feel that you have exerted your very best efforts in this matter, do you? That you have exercised all of your considerable ingenuity? That you have left no depth of cunning unplumbed in your quest to retrieve the memory?’

Oh please, Dumbles. This is Harry. We both know the answer to that.

‘Well,’ Harry stalled, at a loss for what to say next. His single attempt to get hold of the memory suddenly seemed embarrassingly feeble.

Well, it’s as usual for you so no need to be embarrassed, my dimwitted protagonist.

‘– which, naturally, made you forget all about trying to retrieve the memory; I would have expected nothing else, while your best friend was in danger. Once it became clear that Mr Weasley was going to make a full recovery, however, I would have hoped that you returned to the task I set you.’

Ha ha, oh my god. Dumbles’ true colours really shine through in this book.

‘I thought I made it clear to you how very important that memory is. Indeed, I did my best to impress upon you that it is the most crucial memory of all and that we will be wasting our time without it.’

Dumbles, seriously. Do your shite yourself instead of making sixteen-year-old boys whore themselves out.

‘Other things on your mind,’ Dumbledore finished the sentence for him. ‘I see.’

‘Thank you for saying that, Harry,’ said Dumbledore quietly. ‘May I hope, then, that you will give this matter higher priority from now on? There will be little point our meeting after tonight unless we have that memory.’

‘Then we shall say no more about it just now,’ said Dumbledore more kindly, ‘but continue with our story where we left off. You remember where that was?’

This character just skeeves me out so bad.

‘But now, Harry,’ said Dumbledore, ‘now things become murkier and stranger. If it was difficult to find evidence about the boy Riddle, it has been almost impossible to find anyone prepared to reminisce about the man Voldemort. In fact, I doubt whether there is a soul alive, apart from himself, who could give us a full account of his life since he left Hogwarts.’

You know, Tommy sounds so much cooler when Rowling isn’t actually showing him.

‘I shall then be glad of your opinion as to whether the conclusions I have drawn from them seem likely.’

As if Harry has his own opinions or a brain to form opinions. *eye roll*

The idea that Dumbledore valued his opinion this highly made Harry feel even more deeply ashamed . . .

Harry, please.

‘He reached the seventh year of his schooling with, as you might have expected, top grades in every examination he had taken.’

Unlike Harry.

If Dumbles is the successful version of Tommy, Harry is the unsuccessful version of Tommy.

I’m just saying, I doubt Tommy had a girl to do his homework for him.

‘All around him, his classmates were deciding which jobs they were to pursue once they had left Hogwarts.’

So what jobs are these?

You know what’s the hardest thing about writing Harry Potter fan fiction? That I pretty much have to make up 90% of it because the world-building in these books is about as deep as a particularly shallow piss-pool.

‘The next thing the staff knew, Voldemort was working at Borgin and Burkes.’

Hm? That sounds interesting. Well, aside from the fact that Rowling is yet again re-using stuff from the previous books.

I mean, Borgin and Burkes didn’t exactly strike me as the cream of dark arts shops.

‘But this was not Voldemort’s first choice of job. Hardly anyone knew of it at the time – I was one of the few in whom the then Headmaster confided – but Voldemort first approached Professor Dippet and asked whether he could remain at Hogwarts as a teacher.’

No seriously, what’s the attraction of Hogwarts? Aside from the position of headmaster that is used to brainwash kids into the cult of brainless pawns.

‘Firstly, and very importantly, Voldemort was, I believe, more attached to this school than he has ever been to a person. Hogwarts was where he had been happiest; the first and only place he had felt at home.’

No but seriously, what’s wrong with these kids?

‘Secondly, the castle is a stronghold of ancient magic. Undoubtedly Voldemort had penetrated many more of its secrets than most of the students who pass through the place, but he may have felt that there were still mysteries to unravel, stores of magic to tap.

Okay?

What is this “ancient magic” and how does it differ from regular magic? Didn’t dragons have some kind of ancient magic too?

‘And thirdly, as a teacher, he would have had great power and influence over young witches and wizards. Perhaps he had gained the idea from Professor Slughorn, the teacher with whom he was on best terms, who had demonstrated how influential a role a teacher can play. I do not imagine for an instant that Voldemort envisaged spending the rest of his life at Hogwarts, but I do think that he saw it as a useful recruiting ground, and a place where he might begin to build himself an army.’

So… like you, Dumbles?

Also, what does Tommy actually need an army for? No, like, seriously? Even when he had something like forty people at his command, he used them to take over a school.

Aside from that, he only seems to be obsessed with immortality — and yet it’s Dumbles who gets all the references to immortality.

‘Deeply uneasy,’ said Dumbledore. ‘I had advised Armando against the appointment – I did not give the reasons I have given you, for Professor Dippet was very fond of Voldemort and convinced of his honesty – but I did not want Lord Voldemort back at this school, and especially not in a position of power.’

Because you didn’t want rivals?

Also, Tommy first applied to teach at this school at the young and handsome age of eighteen. Dumbles advised Armando against hiring him, though, because Dumbles has acquired taste in his staff.

‘Defence Against the Dark Arts. It was being taught at the time by an old Professor by the name of Galatea Merrythought, who had been at Hogwarts for nearly fifty years.

A FEMALE DEFENCE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS TEACHER! ONE EXISTS!

‘However, Voldemort was no mere assistant. Polite and handsome and clever . . .’

I can with utmost honesty say that this is not my impression of Tommy at all.

‘Well, quite,’ said Dumbledore, with a faint smile. ‘And now it is time to hear from Hokey the house-elf, who worked for a very old, very rich witch by the name of Hepzibah Smith.’

So… a relative of Zacharias Smith? And Zacharias isn’t relevant at all why…?

Oh, right. Because he dared not to worship the Boy Wonder.

He tumbled through dark nothingness and landed in a sitting room in front of an immensely fat old lady wearing an elaborate ginger wig and a brilliant pink set of robes that flowed all around her, giving her the look of a melting iced cake. She was looking into a small jewelled mirror and dabbing rouge on to her already scarlet cheeks with a large powder puff, while the tiniest and oldest house-elf Harry had ever seen laced her fleshy feet into tight satin slippers.

‘Hurry up, Hokey!’ said Hepzibah imperiously. ‘He said he’d come at four, it’s only a couple of minutes to and he’s never been late yet!’

Ha ha, someone has a crush on the young and handsome salesman. Poor lonely old ladies. *sighs*

Harry could only assume that it was down in Hokey’s contract that she must lie through her teeth when asked this question, because Hepzibah Smith looked a long way from lovely in his opinion.

Ah, and Harry’s judgemental little heart rears its unseemly head again. How I’ve missed it.

But it’s totally Draco who is, like, judgemental and shallow.

‘Quick, quick, he’s here, Hokey!’ cried Hepzibah and the elf scurried out of the room, which was so crammed with objects that it was difficult to see how anybody could navigate their way across it without knocking over at least a dozen things: there were cabinets full of little lacquered boxes, cases full of gold-embossed books, shelves of orbs and celestial globes and many flourishing pot plants in brass containers: in fact, the room looked like a cross between a magical antique shop and a conservatory.

What was it called again — oh, hoarder? So Hepzibah (that name is going to drive me mad, I can tell) is a hoarder?

He was plainly dressed in a black suit; his hair was a little longer than it had been at school and his cheeks were hollowed, but all of this suited him: he looked more handsome than ever.

*laughs*

Oh, it is to laugh that Harry has absolutely no problems describing the murderer of his parents as handsome and yet all Draco, for example, gets is a “pointed face”.

This kid.

Rowling.

These books.

They’re all so unserious and yet they’re not a complete farce.

He picked his way through the cramped room with an air that showed he had visited many times before and bowed low over Hepzibah’s fat little hand, brushing it with his lips.

‘I brought you flowers,’ he said quietly, producing a bunch of roses from nowhere.

Ha ha, what a gentleman.

And yeah, he’s pretending but I just bet that Harry is never, ever going to do this for Ginny, his One True Love.

‘I’d be glad to see anything Miss Hepzibah shows me,’ said Voldemort quietly, and Hepzibah gave another girlish giggle.

Oh, Tommy. He used to have such a way with women at least.

She opened the lid. Harry edged forwards a little to get a better view and saw what looked like a small golden cup with two finely wrought handles.

Rowling does realise that there is more to opulence than just gold?

Like, put a little magic into it?

Oh, if you want good and interesting descriptions of fantastical opulence, I recommend Lovecraft and Andersen.

Harry thought he saw a red gleam in his dark eyes.

By the way, why red? Shouldn’t Tommy’s eyes turn green what with the slytherin heir motif?

‘And all sorts of powers it’s supposed to possess, too, but I haven’t tested them thoroughly, I just keep it nice and safe in here …’

There’s all this talk about powers — pet powers, Hogwarts powers, object powers — and yet Rowling doesn’t show any of it.

There upon the smooth crimson velvet lay a heavy golden locket.

So, Gryffindor has a sword, Hufflepuff has a cup, Slytherin has a locket and Ravenclaw has a… tiara?

Gryffindor is obvious but why the rest?

She looked him full in the face and, for the first time, Harry saw her foolish smile falter.

The woman is old and lonely, Harry. Stop being such a judgemental brat.

‘Time to leave, Harry,’ said Dumbledore quietly . . .

I don’t trust anything Dumbles says or does so why does he want to leave at this particular moment?

‘Hepzibah Smith died two days after that little scene,’ said Dumbledore, resuming his seat and indicating that Harry should do the same. ‘Hokey the house-elf was convicted by the Ministry of poisoning her mistress’s evening cocoa by accident.’

Well, good to know that the police work in the wizarding world has always sucked.

By the way, are there different levels of aurors? Or are they all just called aurors? I mean, the police have different departments and positions and titles?

‘She remembered putting something in her mistress’s cocoa that turned out not to be sugar, but a lethal and little-known poison,’ said Dumbledore. ‘It was concluded that she had not meant to do it, but being old and confused –’

‘Voldemort modified her memory, just like he did with Morfin!’

And like the little geniuses that the lot of these characters are, no one did any investigating.

‘Yes, that is my conclusion, too,’ said Dumbledore. ‘And, just as with Morfin, the Ministry was predisposed to suspect Hokey –’

‘– because she was a house-elf,’ said Harry.

Or! Because it’s always the butler.

Like, I don’t know. There’s something patronising about this idea that these characters have that the only reason why anyone could possibly suspect a house-elf of anything is because they’re a house-elf? As if a house-elf couldn’t possibly do anything heinous, you know?

‘Precisely,’ said Dumbledore. ‘She was old, she admitted to having tampered with the drink and nobody at the Ministry bothered to enquire further.’

Like always, you mean?

‘But before they were sure beyond doubt that the cup and the locket were both gone, the assistant who had worked at Borgin and Burkes, the young man who had visited Hepzibah so regularly and charmed her so well, had resigned his post and vanished. His superiors had no idea where he had gone; they were as surprised as anyone at his disappearance. And that was the last that was seen or heard of Tom Riddle for a very long time.’

*sighs*

Tommy sounds so much more interesting when Rowling isn’t actually writing him.

‘But,’ said Harry, frowning, ‘it seems mad … risking everything, throwing away his job, just for those …’

Because the job at Borgin and Burkes was, like, such a catch?

‘I know what you are known as,’ said Dumbledore, smiling pleasantly. ‘But to me, I’m afraid, you will always be Tom Riddle. It is one of the irritating things about old teachers, I am afraid, that they never quite forget their charges’ youthful beginnings.’

Funny that you insist that everyone else call him Voldemort then, Dumbles.

‘I am surprised you have remained here so long,’ said Voldemort after a short pause. ‘I always wondered why a wizard such as yourself never wished to leave school.’

The same reason why you want to get into the school?

‘Well,’ said Dumbledore, still smiling, ‘to a wizard such as myself, there can be nothing more important than passing on ancient skills, helping hone young minds.’

‘Of some kinds of magic,’ Dumbledore corrected him quietly. ‘Of some. Of others, you remain … forgive me … woefully ignorant.’

Well, to be fair, it’s not like any of us has learned a thing about magic during the course of five and a half books.

Aside from how to create eldritch horrors with animals.

‘The old argument,’ he said softly. ‘But nothing I have seen in the world has supported your famous pronouncements that love is more powerful than my kind of magic, Dumbledore.’

True. None of these characters has any love. Well, except the Dursleys and the Malfoys, ironically.

‘Perhaps you have been looking in the wrong places,’ suggested Dumbledore.

Well, he sure as hell isn’t going to find it at Hogwarts.

Also! Come to think of it, Tommy was conceived under the influence of a love potion. Did this magically destroy all the love neurons or whatever in his brain? But considering the complete blasé way these people treat love potions — you can buy them directly in joke shops — you’d think there’d be more Tommies running around?

*side-eyes Harry*

Well, I mean~ I certainly wouldn’t put it past James.

‘And what will become of those whom you command? What will happen to those who call themselves – or so rumour has it – the Death Eaters?’

Well, I don’t know — what’s the difference between an unwilling slave and a willing slave who doesn’t even realise he’s a slave?

‘I am glad to hear that you consider them friends,’ said Dumbledore. ‘I was under the impression that they are more in the order of servants.’

House-elves. *sotto voce*

‘Then if I were to go to the Hog’s Head tonight, I would not find a group of them – Nott, Rosier, Mulciber, Dolohov – awaiting your return? Devoted friends indeed, to travel this far with you on a snowy night, merely to wish you luck as you attempted to secure a teaching post.’

?

It’s not like you never have people go out of their way for you, Dumbles?

‘… let us speak openly. Why have you come here tonight, surrounded by henchmen, to request a job we both know you do not want?’

For the same reason why you wanted to teach at Hogwarts, Dumbles?

A brainless cult of pawns. *sotto voce*

‘No, nothing,’ said Dumbledore, and a great sadness filled his face. ‘The time is long gone when I could frighten you with a burning wardrobe and force you to make repayment for your crimes. But I wish I could, Tom … I wish I could …’

‘Oh, he definitely wanted the Defence Against the Dark Arts job,’ said Dumbledore. ‘The aftermath of our little meeting proved that. You see, we have never been able to keep a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher for longer than a year since I refused the post to Lord Voldemort.’

Oh, really? What was that implication with Quirrell then?

Also, why didn’t Dumbles~ the greatest wizard of all times~ do anything about this?

Because he either saw it as convenient, especially considering he hires to it people he doesn’t like, or he’s a useless sack of dungbombs. You may take your pick.

Harry’s spell count so far: twenty-one.

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

Chapter Nineteen – Elf Tails

If I think about the individual bits and pieces of Harry Potters — such as Dumbles being the poster boy for pedophile occultist elite, the wizards’ undeveloped isolationism, how all of these characters are just caricatures of each other, how absurd and self-contradicting these books are etc. — it almost feels like satire.

But then I look at these books in their entirety and think about stuff like Lupin telling Harry “That suggests that what you fear most of all is — fear” when dementors are manifestations of depression and boggarts are manifestations of fear, and I remember that no, these books are just that unserious and stupid.

‘So, all in all, not one of Ron’s better birthdays?’ said Fred.

Can’t say. I only saw the one in the previous chapter.

Harry, Hermione and Ginny were sitting around him; they had spent all day waiting outside the double doors, trying to see inside whenever somebody went in or out.

Ron/Ginny proofs or nah?

Fred and George had arrived at ten past.

Well, suddenly they’re getting all sorts of family members visiting. Must be the difference between being a major character and a minor character.

Also, does Hogwarts have — what’s it called? — like visiting hours? Or is it like an open-door policy — so long as you’re related to a major character, that is?

‘You were in Hogsmeade?’ asked Ginny, looking up.

Aw, does this mean she’s been staring at her unconscious brother?

I’ll count this as Ron/Ginny proofs because I can and I will.

‘We were thinking of buying Zonko’s,’ said Fred gloomily.

Why can’t this world have actual competition? I mean, I already talked about this previously, how this world only has one of everything, and we didn’t even get a second wandmaker until Book Four and he isn’t exactly relevant to the world building either.

‘. . . Slughorn ran for help . . .’

Somehow I find this doubtful. I think what Rowling meant was that he “waddled” for help. Furthermore! wizards anyone? Wands? Magic? The Floo? Anything?

‘Blimey, it was lucky you thought of a bezoar,’ said George in a low voice.

It was more lucky that he coincidentally got reminded of it in the previous chapter.

‘Lucky there was one in the room,’ said Harry . . .

I keep saying that it’s best not to question these lucky coincidences in the narrative then.

Hermione gave an almost inaudible sniff. She had been exceptionally quiet all day. Having hurtled, white-faced, up to Harry outside the hospital wing and demanded to know what had happened, she had taken almost no part in Harry and Ginny’s obsessive discussion about how Ron had been poisoned, but merely stood beside them, clench-jawed and frightened-looking, until at last they had been allowed in to see him.

Isn’t it lucky that Ron almost died, otherwise their cold war would’ve gone on?

‘Do Mum and Dad know?’ Fred asked Ginny.

‘They’ve already seen him, they arrived an hour ago – they’re in Dumbledore’s office now, but they’ll be back soon …’

Oh, really? I’m surprised but I guess it’s because Ron is a major character.

‘I dunno,’ said Fred, ‘but there must be loads of people who’d like to poison Harry, mustn’t there? The “Chosen One” and all that?’

You would think so and yet there are so few who try and even fewer who succeed.

*sighs*

‘He could be under the Imperius Curse,’ said George.

I’m sure you have a handy magical test for that.

‘But you said Slughorn had been planning to give that bottle to Dumbledore for Christmas,’ Ginny reminded him. ‘So the poisoner could just as easily have been after Dumbledore.’

Finally someone said it.

‘Er-my-nee,’ croaked Ron unexpectedly from between them.

I don’t know, I guess this is cute but I’m just not feeling it.

‘Bin in the Forest all day!’ he panted. ‘Aragog’s worse, I bin readin’ to him – didn’ get up ter dinner till jus’ now an’ then Professor Sprout told me abou’ Ron! How is he?’

Aragog is going to croak! And then the Great Acromantula and Wizarding Wars will begin!

‘No more than six visitors at a time!’ said Madam Pomfrey, hurrying out of her office.

Does it matter if no other patients are there?

To cover her confusion she hurried off to clear up his muddy footprints with her wand.

And yet Argus needs to clean after them manually. How quaint.

‘I don’ believe this,’ said Hagrid hoarsely, shaking his great shaggy head as he stared down at Ron. ‘Jus’ don’ believe it … look at him lyin’ there … who’d want ter hurt him, eh?’

Well…

Harry spun round to see Hermione pointing her wand at Ron, her expression wild: the little flock of birds was speeding like a hail of fat golden bullets towards Ron, who yelped and covered his face with his hands, but the birds attacked, pecking and clawing at every bit of flesh they could reach.

Hermione?

‘Wood might’ve done the Slytherins if he could’ve got away with it,’ said Fred fairly.

Uh-huh.

‘Well, I don’t think it’s Quidditch, but I think there’s a connection between the attacks,’ said Hermione quietly.

‘How d’you work that out?’ asked Fred.

Because we’re already on page 193 of 307 and it’s time for the Exposition and Plot Device to get some work done.

‘Well, for one thing, they both ought to have been fatal and weren’t, although that was pure luck. And for another, neither the poison nor the necklace seems to have reached the person who was supposed to be killed. Of course,’ she added broodingly, ‘that makes the person behind this even more dangerous in a way, because they don’t seem to care how many people they finish off before they actually reach their victim.’

Well, it’s still been just two so far.

And I still maintain that Draco could’ve come up with better plans if Rowling wasn’t so determined to make him fail at everything.

‘Well, all I can say is that it was a lucky day for the Weasleys when Ron decided to sit in your compartment on the Hogwarts Express, Harry.’

Well, I guess it is lucky that Ron went creeping in for the Boy Wonder on the train. And that Harry wanted to imprint on a family of red heads.

‘All this new security . . .’

What new security? Argus and cancelled Hogsmeade weekends?

And how does that differ from any other year?

‘Dumbledore’s worried sick … he don’ say much, but I can tell …’

I trust Hagrid’s words on anything as far as I can throw him.

‘Wha’ worries me,’ said Hagrid, lowering his voice and glancing over his shoulder (Harry, for good measure, checked the ceiling for Peeves), ‘is how long Hogwarts can stay open if kids are bein’ attacked.’

Well, you did manage almost the entire year last time and there were even more victims than two.

But please, do close the school. I agree with this.

‘Chamber o’ Secrets all over again, isn’ it? There’ll be panic, more parents takin’ their kids outta school, an’ nex’ thing yeh know the board o’ governors …’

There was none of that in Book Two?

‘… the board o’ governors’ll be talkin’ about shuttin’ us up fer good.’

YES.

Rowling is such a bloody tease.

‘I mean, it’s always bin a bit of a risk sendin’ a kid ter Hogwarts, hasn’ it? Yer expect accidents, don’ yeh, with hundreds of under-age wizards all locked up tergether, but attempted murder, tha’s diff ’rent.’

I REPEAT: HOW IS THAT ANY DIFFERENT FROM ANY OF THE PREVIOUS YEARS?

OR EVEN BETTER: HOW IS THAT ANY BLOODY DIFFERENT THAN THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT OF STUPIDITY AND CHILD MURDER?

You want me to believe this lip service? Then show, don’t tell.

’S no wonder Dumbledore’s angry with Sn—’

Why is Dumbles angry with Severus? Because Severus doesn’t want to kill him for some uncomprehensible reason?

‘Don’ shout stuff like that, Harry, d’you wan’ me ter lose me job?’

STOP TEASING ME, ROWLING.

Mind, I don’ suppose you’d care, would yeh, not now you’ve given up Care of Mag—’

‘Don’t try and make me feel guilty, it won’t work!’ said Harry forcefully.

Ha ha, I know. Harry’s too much of a narcissist to feel guilt. ♡

‘An’ then he said summat abou’ Snape makin’ investigations in his house, in Slytherin. Well, there’s nothin’ strange abou’ that!’ Hagrid added hastily, as Harry and Hermione exchanged looks full of meaning. ‘All the Heads o’ House were asked ter look inter that necklace business –’

Ooooh really? Funny I don’t remember them doing this in any of the previous books. But I suppose even the dumbest moron can learn new tricks.

‘I’m a ruddy teacher, aren’ I, yeh sneakin’ Squib!’ said Hagrid, firing up at once.

Bastions of tolerance and inclusion, indeed.

(Not that tolerance is a virtue.)

In spite of all he had told Harry, in spite of his insistence that he trusted Snape completely, he had lost his temper with him …

Dumbles lost his temper with you too and let his true feelings about your consistent stupidity shine through?

Was it because Dumbledore did not want Harry to do anything foolish, to take matters into his own hands . . .

Um?

You don’t really “take matters into your own hands”?

‘Well, then, I’ll be playing Keeper, won’t I?’ said McLaggen.

‘Yeah,’ said Harry. ‘Yeah, I suppose so …’

Reserve. players.

They’re still a thing. They all get practice, you switch them in and out of matches, and if something like unforeseen cases of poisoning happen, they can play reserve?

Why am I even trying with these morons?

People seemed to think that it might have been an accident, given that he had been in the Potion master’s room at the time, and that as he had been given an antidote immediately there was no real harm done.

This is actually pretty reasonable for once. Good job, Hogwarts students.

In fact, the Gryffindors were generally much more interested in the upcoming Quidditch match against Hufflepuff, for many of them wanted to see Zacharias Smith, who played Chaser on the Hufflepuff team, punished soundly for his commentary during the opening match against Slytherin.

Oh yeah, how dare a Hufflepuff not to worship Gryffindors? It boggles the mind!

And don’t worry, Zacharias, I’ll give you all the good things in the world in a fic someday, ha ha. ♡

Harry, however, had never been less interested in Quidditch; he was rapidly becoming obsessed with Draco Malfoy.

Harry, that’s been obvious since Book One.

‘Well, I would, but he’s always asleep when I go and see him!’ said Lavender fretfully.

Ha ha, Lavender is so cute. I need to give her all the good things in the world too.

It’s utterly bizarre that everyone is treating her like garbage just because she likes Ron — Ron included.

‘Would you call getting poisoned being interesting?’ asked Harry.

I don’t know, would you call someone getting a scar on their forehead being interesting?

‘He keeps trying to tell everyone what to do, he thinks he could play every position better than the rest of us.’

Well… I kind of feel like he might be right, all things considered.

He was looking out of the windows he passed, trying to gauge how much wind they were facing . . .

You have played in an actual thunderstorm. And other rainy weather. Who cares about wind?

Malfoy stopped short at the sight of Harry, then gave a short, humourless laugh and continued walking.

If only his reaction to Harry had always been this, ha ha. ♡

‘Where’re you going?’ Harry demanded.

‘Yeah, I’m really going to tell you, because it’s your business, Potter,’ sneered Malfoy. ‘You’d better hurry up, they’ll be waiting for the Chosen Captain – the Boy Who Scored – whatever they call you these days.’

Ha ha, my sweet little dork with his meta comments.

Don’t worry, Draco, you could accidentally kill all of the kids and staff in this school and I wouldn’t care, ha ha. ♡

This was infuriating; he was already cutting it fine to get to the match on time and yet there was Malfoy, skulking off while the rest of the school was absent: Harry’s best chance yet of discovering what Malfoy was up to.

Well, you could’ve quit Quidditch too and taken things a bit more seriously? But who would want to lose the mandatory Harry Potter the Snowflake Hour? Or five minutes, as it were.

Also, lest I forget: I wonder where Draco got the girls’ hair.

‘Well, I’m not likely to find out, am I?’ said Harry, seizing his Firebolt and pushing his glasses straight. ‘Come on, then!’

Oh, and he still chooses Quidditch over What Draco Malfoy Is Up To. Because Rowling thought we seriously can’t miss the mandatory Harry Potter the Snowflake Hour.

*glances at the page number*

Well, we’re still on page 198 so I guess it isn’t the time for these characters to actually do something.

‘Tricky conditions!’ McLaggen said bracingly to the team. ‘Coote, Peakes, you’ll want to fly out of the sun, so they don’t see you coming –’

‘I’m the Captain, McLaggen, shut up giving them instructions,’ said Harry angrily. ‘Just get up by the goalposts!’

Do we actually ever see Harry doing any captaining? Or have I just totally wiped that out of my memory?

‘Make sure you do fly out of the sun,’ he told them grudgingly.

Oh.

‘And that’s Smith of Hufflepuff with the Quaffle,’ said a dreamy voice, echoing over the grounds.

He’s a chaser!

And apparently Luna is doing the commentary this time.

‘. . . Ginny took it from him, I do like her, she’s very nice …’

She is?

Surely, nobody in their right mind would have let Luna Lovegood commentate?

First tell me who in this school is in their right mind and then we’ll talk.

. . . Zacharias Smith, who had so far failed to maintain possession of the Quaffle for longer than a minute, was suffering from something called ‘Loser’s Lurgy’.

Why is he on the quidditch team then?

A blinding, sickening pain … a flash of light … distant screams … and the sensation of falling down a long tunnel …

And the next thing Harry knew, he was lying in a remarkably warm and comfortable bed and looking up at a lamp that was throwing a circle of golden light on to a shadowy ceiling.

Oh my god, he really does fall down in every quidditch match.

— and what was with Potter and his need to fall off his broom every year, the histrionic git —

As I wrote in a Book Three chapter coda.

‘Cracked skull,’ said Madam Pomfrey, bustling up and pushing him back against his pillows.

Good thing there’s nothing that might break.

Does this chapter still take long?

Six pages.

Of course.

There was a note of badly suppressed glee in Ron’s voice; Harry could tell he was nothing short of thrilled that McLaggen had messed up so badly.

So, you know, instead of Ron earning a thing on his own merits… Rowling made the “competition” absolutely atrocious?

Because surely Ron can’t earn a thing?

‘Yeah … well, I saw Malfoy sneaking off with a couple of girls who didn’t look like they wanted to be with him, and that’s the second time he’s made sure he isn’t down on the Quidditch pitch with the rest of the school. He skipped the last match too, remember?’

Then… why did he go to the quidditch pitch first?

Why didn’t he just stay at the castle while everyone else went outside?

Why polyjuice Crabbe and Goyle, go to the quidditch pitch, and then come back to the castle?

All so our intrepid Boy Wonder could see him?

‘Don’t be stupid,’ said Ron sharply. ‘You couldn’t have missed a Quidditch match just to follow Malfoy, you’re the Captain!’

And we, evidently, can’t have a plot in these books.

‘You’re getting a bit obsessed with Malfoy, Harry. I mean, thinking about missing a match just to follow him …’

BECAUSE SURELY WE CAN’T HAVE AN ACTUAL PLOT IN THESE BOOKS.

. . . he thought fleetingly of trying to set something up with the DA, but there again was the problem that people would be missed from lessons; most of them, after all, still had full timetables …

If Draco is supposedly missing lessons then I’m sure someone else can miss them too.

The lamps dimmed . . .

Come to think of it, the hospital wing has lamps. I guess they finally upgraded from torches.

Harry pointed his wand hastily at the door of Madam Pomfrey’s office and muttered ‘Muffliato!’ so that she would not come running.

Hm? Boy Wonder’s twentieth spell finally?

Why yes, it is.

Muffliato kind of sounds like mouldy ice cream for some reason.

Then there was another loud bang, and Peeves the poltergeist appeared in midair above the wrestling elves.

Now wait a second. Peeves can apparate? Is this true for all ghosts or just Peeves? Does that mean Peeves still has magic? Does that mean that all ghosts still have magic? Although why would wizards lose their magic upon death?

‘Kreacher will say what he likes about his master, oh yes, and what a master he is, filthy friend of Mudbloods, oh, what would poor Kreacher’s mistress say –?’

*sighs*

Kreacher had so much potential.

Exactly what Kreacher’s mistress would have said they did not find out, for at that moment Dobby sank his knobbly little fist into Kreacher’s mouth and knocked out half of his teeth.

You know, I honestly can’t wait until Dobby dies.

Harry aimed his wand at Peeves and said, ‘Langlock!’

Huh. Boy Wonder’s twenty-first spell.

‘That was another Prince hex, wasn’t it?’

Oh.

*sighs*

‘Dobby is a free house-elf and he can obey anyone he likes and Dobby will do whatever Harry Potter wants him to do!’ said Dobby, tears now streaming down his shrivelled little face on to his jumper.

Okay then.

‘OK, then,’ said Harry . . .

What I said.

‘Master called me?’ croaked Kreacher, sinking into a bow even as he gave Harry a look that plainly wished him a painful death.

Oh, Kreacher. ♡ I have so much fondness for him.

By the way, two things:

One) How is this any different from the Malfoy/Dobby situation back in Book Two? Will it even occur to Harry to free Kreacher since Kreacher obviously doesn’t want to be enslaved to him? Of course it won’t. But Harry’s a good slave master so that’s okay.

Two) Did Kreacher start working at Hogwarts? Because I literally don’t have a memory of that, ha ha.

‘Yeah, I did,’ said Harry, glancing towards Madam Pomfrey’s office door to check that the Muffliato spell was still working; there was no sign that she had heard any of the commotion.

So… is there some kind of magical trace on it? Or is it just that Pomfrey hasn’t gotten up to check what’s the noise?

‘Kreacher will do whatever Master wants,’ said Kreacher, sinking so low that his lips almost touched his gnarled toes, ‘because Kreacher has no choice, but Kreacher is ashamed to have such a Master, yes –’

Will it occur to Harry to give Kreacher some clothes?

No?

Okay then.

Why won’t Hermione Free All House-elves give Kreacher some clothes? Because he’s Harry’s slave and that’s okay?

‘Dobby will do it, Harry Potter!’ squeaked Dobby, his tennis-ball-sized eyes still swimming with tears. ‘Dobby would be honoured to help Harry Potter!’

Dobby, please die already.

‘Yes, Harry Potter!’ said Dobby at once, his great eyes shining with excitement. ‘And if Dobby does it wrong, Dobby will throw himself off the topmost tower, Harry Potter!’

Yes.

Rowling, don’t be such a tease.

‘Master wants me to follow the youngest of the Malfoys?’ croaked Kreacher. ‘Master wants me to spy upon the pureblood great-nephew of my old mistress?’

‘Master thinks of everything and Kreacher must obey him even though Kreacher would much rather be the servant of the Malfoy boy, oh yes …’

Poor Kreacher.

Harry’s spell count so far: twenty-one.

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

Bonus:

Harry reacted instinctively; his wand was out of his pocket and the incantation sprang to mind without conscious thought: Levicorpus!

Come to think of it, I totally forgot to count this spell since he did it wordlessly. Well, that brings the Boy Wonder’s spell count to twenty-two.

Urquhart Rackharrow, 1612–1697, Inventor of the Entrail-expelling Curse.

. . . Slytherin Captain, Urquhart.

Related or not?

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I kind of wonder if I should stop using wordpress because it’s becoming increasingly annoying to use.

Chapter Eighteen – Birthday Surprises

Just to reiterate:

The primary problems in these books aren’t “he said, she said” or “he did, she did” of each individual character. It’s

one) world building and plot segregation (which I didn’t really coin until the third book)

and

two) narrative dissonance (which I didn’t come up with until some weeks ago)

Although, to be fair, I didn’t really come up with these terms. I paraphrased them from gaming terms.

Never mind the multitude of other problems in these books. Rowling is not a good author. On every objective measurement these books fail.

For example, the anachronism of the wizarding world. The problem isn’t the lack of technological progress or that everything is inconvenient for the sake of whimsy. I mean, it’s whatever. Not every nation needs to be technologically advanced or have the same technological levels. But instead of that having thematic significance — like, say, in Momo — it’s just there.

There’s no thematic significance to anything in these books. The only themes these books have are that Discrimination and Dehumanisation Are Okay Depending on Who Is Doing It and Whom They’re Doing It To, and You Deserve to Be Crucified For Words. Rowling writes like a Novasti agent in the Soviet Union.

And it’s not like either of those themes are wrong. Because that’s how most human and animal tribes are. But Rowling simply does not have the writing or nuance to pull either of those off. Instead her “nuance” boils down to Because I Say So. To which the only proper response is, “lol. lmao even. fuck off”.

Rowling. is. not. a. good. author.

Also, if I’m not supposed to care about this:

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.

“Shouldn’ta lost me temper,” he said ruefully, “but it didn’t work anyway. 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.”

Then I really, really won’t care about any foul thing that comes out of Draco Malfoy’s mouth.

If I’m not supposed to care about this:

. . . as Dudley was very fat and hated exercise . . .

Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large, pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes and thick, blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel – Harry often said that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig.

Dudley came waddling towards them as fast as he could.

. . . but as Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of the lot . . .

. . . a real air-rifle, which was up on a shelf with the end all bent because Dudley had sat on it.

‘Budge up, yeh great lump,’ said the stranger.

‘Yer great puddin’ of a son don’ need fattenin’ any more, Dursley, don’ worry.’

. . . Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain.

‘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.’

Dudley, who was so large his bottom drooped over either side of the kitchen chair . . .

Dudley gasped and fell off his chair with a crash that shook the whole kitchen . . .

Dudley was blond, pink and porky.

. . . Dudley, offering his fat arm to an invisible woman.

. . . Dudley tearing out of the room as fast as his fat legs would carry him.

. . . sang Dudley, waddling towards him.

Dudley hitched up his trousers, which were slipping down his fat bottom.

Dudley stumbled backwards at once, a look of panic on his fat face.

. . . his enormous cousin, Dudley.

Dudley had spent most of the summer in the kitchen, his piggy little eyes fixed on the screen and his five chins wobbling as he ate continually.

Uncle Vernon clapped Dudley on his porky shoulder.

Dudley came waddling down the hall, his blond hair plastered flat to his fat head, a bow-tie just visible under his many chins.

. . . Dudley had a crisp twenty-pound note clutched in his fat fist.

. . . Dudley’s piggy face . . .

Dudley looked furious and sulky, and somehow seemed to be taking up even more space than usual. This was saying something, as he always took up an entire side of the square table by himself.

. . . Dudley had reached roughly the size and weight of a young killer whale.

. . . Dudley, who had already finished his own grapefruit quarter, and was eyeing Harry’s with a very sour look in his piggy little eyes.

. . . Dudley, had finally achieved what he’d been threatening to do since the age of three, and become wider than he was tall.

Dudley was crammed into an armchair, his porky hands beneath him, clamped firmly around his bottom.

But Dudley didn’t seem able to speak. Hands still clamped over his buttocks, he waddled as fast as he could into the kitchen.

Dudley whimpered. Harry saw his hands tighten still harder over his massive backside.

. . . said Dudley, whose ham-like hands had curled into fists.

‘Do that one like a pig snout, Tonks.’

Tonks obliged, and Harry, looking up, had the fleeting impression that a female Dudley was grinning at him from across the table.

. . . Dudley drew his large bare pink feet off the floor . . .

Then I sure as hell won’t care about this:

‘And there’s a picture, Weasley!’ said Malfoy, flipping the paper over and holding it up. ‘A picture of your parents outside their house – if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn’t she?’

‘Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren’t you, Potter?’ sneered Malfoy. ‘So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?’

It’s that simple.

All of these characters are bullies. All of these characters do and say the exact same things and worse. And instead of that being the point, Rowling patronisingly tries to corral the reader into thinking that it’s okay for one but you should really condemn the other, m’kay? Because Rowling Says So. Either it’s okay for both or it’s not okay for either.

That’s the problem. Not that “mean characters are mean” or “people can’t like mean characters”.

That said, whose birthday are we celebrating here?

. . . Hermione still refused to remain in Ron’s presence longer than it took to give him a contemptuous look.

You could’ve acted on your attraction(?) to Ron at any point you so deigned. Instead of getting all huffy when someone gets there first?

Ron thought that Harry was unlikely to have any trouble with Slughorn at all.

‘He loves you,’ he said over breakfast . . .

Oh, gross.

‘Horcruxes … Horcruxes … I’ve never even heard of them …’

‘You haven’t?’

Harry was disappointed; he had hoped that Hermione might have been able to give him a clue as to what Horcruxes were.

Wow, five and a half books later there finally is something that Wonder Witch Hermione doesn’t know. Will the wonders ever cease.

‘I think it’s going to be difficult to get the information, Harry, you’ll have to be very careful about how you approach Slughorn, think out a strategy …’

Ha ha ha! Harry, thinking, strategy. That was a good joke.

‘Ron reckons I should just hang back after Potions this afternoon …’

‘Oh, well, if Won-Won thinks that, you’d better do it,’ she said, flaring up at once. ‘After all, when has Won-Won’s judgement ever been faulty?’

Well, to be fair, neotenous boy wiles worked for Tommy so there’s no reason why it wouldn’t work for Harry?

Hermione was now waving her wand enthusiastically over her cauldron. Unfortunately, they could not copy the spell she was doing because she was now so good at non-verbal incantations that she did not need to say the words aloud.

Uh huh. Sure.

Ernie Macmillan, however, was muttering, ‘Specialis revelio!’ over his cauldron, which sounded impressive, so Harry and Ron hastened to imitate him.

Should I count this as Harry’s twentieth spell?

Nah. My criterion for it has been clear: we need to see him cast the spell.

‘A stone taken from the stomach of a goat, which will protect from most poisons.’

What happens if it’s the exact poison it doesn’t protect from, Harry? Did you think of that?

Well, not that separating all the poisonous ingredients to brew separate antidotes for each is actually that fast or sensible. I mean, depending on the poison the patient could die fifty times over by that time.

It was not an answer to the Golpalott problem, and had Snape still been their teacher, Harry would not have dared do it . . .

Well, isn’t that mighty convenient.

Slughorn looked down at it for a full ten seconds. Harry wondered, for a moment, whether he was going to shout at him. Then he threw back his head and roared with laughter.

‘You’ve got a nerve, boy!’ he boomed, taking the bezoar and holding it up so that the class could see it. ‘Oh, you’re like your mother … well, I can’t fault you … a bezoar would certainly act as an antidote to all these potions!’

All things considered, I’m just going to assume that Lily? Did not earn her reputation as a potions genius any more than Harry. Instead, she stole it all from Severus too.

‘And you thought of a bezoar all by yourself, did you, Harry?’ she asked through gritted teeth.

Oh, silly girl. Harry does not think of anything by himself.

‘That’s the individual spirit a real potion-maker needs!’ said Slughorn happily, before Harry could reply. ‘Just like his mother, she had the same intuitive grasp of potion-making, it’s undoubtedly from Lily he gets it …’

Yeah. There’s just no way Lily was a potions genius.

‘Sir,’ said Harry, reminding himself irresistibly of Voldemort . . .

Funny that.

Hermione was still seething at the way Harry had triumphed without doing the work properly. Ron was resentful that Harry hadn’t slipped him a bezoar, too.

Shouldn’t you both already be used to this?

‘It would’ve just looked stupid if we’d both done it!’ said Harry irritably. ‘Look, I had to try and soften him up so I could ask him about Voldemort, didn’t I?’

Ah, yes. That’s exactly what you were thinking at the moment.

Infuriated by his failure and by Ron and Hermione’s attitudes, Harry brooded for the next few days over what to do next about Slughorn.

You could use the luck potion, which you surely need, because it’s not like you don’t get by sheer luck, coincidence and Rowling’s dubious grace in every case?

Harry awaited an invitation to one of his little evening parties . . .

Come to think of it, there’s something creepy and gross about a professor holding soirées with his underage students.

Meanwhile, the Hogwarts library had failed Hermione for the first time in living memory.

You know what would help with that? A national library instead of just a school library. But hey, what do I know. I’m not an eminent wizard.

‘All I could find was this, in the introduction to Magick Moste Evile – listen – “of the Horcrux, wickedest of magical inventions, we shall not speak nor give direction” … I mean, why mention it, then?’

Because wizards are idiots?

The snow melted around the school as February arrived, to be replaced by cold, dreary wetness.

It’s already February? And I’m only halfway through!

‘As you may know, it is usually impossible to Apparate or Disapparate within Hogwarts.’

‘Usually impossible’ does not mean ‘always impossible’. As evidenced by house-elves. And you can still just fly right into the castle.

There was a great scrambling and jostling as people separated, banged into each other, and ordered others out of their space.

Considering how big the dining hall must be and how few students this school has… there’s no way. Unless they all clustered together.

‘I tell my friends what I’m up to, if I want them to keep a lookout for me,’ Harry said, just loud enough for Malfoy to hear him.

No, you don’t. You just guilt-trip and rage at them.

Harry gazed at the circular patch of dusty floor enclosed by his hoop and tried hard to think of nothing else.

Ha ha ha! That shouldn’t be hard then.

. . . Ernie Macmillan, on the other hand, had done a kind of pirouetting leap into his hoop and looked momentarily thrilled, until he caught sight of Dean Thomas roaring with laughter at him.

Ha ha.

Too bad he already got himself on my list of murderable characters.

There was a horrible screech of pain and everybody looked around, terrified, to see Susan Bones of Hufflepuff wobbling in her hoop with her left leg still standing five feet away where she had started.

The Heads of House converged on her; there was a great bang and a puff of purple smoke, which cleared to reveal Susan sobbing, reunited with her leg but looking horrified.

You know, I’ve already talked about this — this utter lack of magical consequences and how it ties into the wizards’ psychopathy — so I won’t repeat myself on it.

But I will say! If Rowling was going to write a complete absurd farce anyway, the least she could’ve done was go all out with it. But no, instead these books for some uncomprehensible reason are regarded more highly than, say, the film Attack of the Killer Tomatoes which was absurd on its face and obviously was not meant to be taken seriously.

Twycross stepped forwards, turned gracefully on the spot with his arms outstretched and vanished in a swirl of robes, reappearing at the back of the Hall.

Why are his arms outstretched?

They were temporarily detained by Peeves, who had jammed a door on the fourth floor shut and was refusing to let anyone pass until they set fire to their own pants . . .

Why hasn’t anyone exorcised this thing? Find his bones and salt and burn them.

He had found it, a folded square of apparently blank parchment, which he now smoothed out and tapped with the tip of his wand.

Wouldn’t it be easier to carry this with him since it is, you know, a map anyway?

He broke off as Neville entered the dormitory, bringing with him a strong smell of singed material, and began rummaging in his trunk for a fresh pair of pants.

But surely Neville’s only problem is Severus. *massive eye roll*

As for the fact that Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle appeared to be going their different ways when they were usually inseparable . . .

‘Inseparable’.

Ooooh? Shame he couldn’t keep them then. But it’s not like he ever actually liked them, as The Cursed Child taught me. *massive eye roll*

. . . these things happened as people got older – Ron and Hermione, Harry reflected sadly, were living proof.

Harry, Ron and Hermione, on the other hand, have never been that close or good friends. The only thing that got them together and kept them together was adversity.

February moved towards March with no change in the weather except that it became windy as well as wet. To general indignation, a sign went up on all common-room noticeboards that the next trip into Hogsmeade had been cancelled. cancelled. Ron was furious.

‘It was on my birthday!’ he said. ‘I was looking forward to that!’

HMM?

Do we finally get to celebrate someone else’s birthday than the Boy Wonder’s?

Ha, doubtful. Especially since this is Ron.

‘Not a big surprise, though, is it?’ said Harry. ‘Not after what happened to Katie.’

This is Hogwarts, Harry. No one demonstrably cares about the kids.

‘But now all I’ve got to look forward to is stupid Apparition!’ said Ron grumpily. ‘Big birthday treat …’

That’s the life you chose when you went creeping for the Boy Wonder on the train.

‘Happy birthday, Ron,’ said Harry, when they were woken on the first of March by Seamus and Dean leaving noisily for breakfast. ‘Have a present.’

He threw the package across on to Ron’s bed, where it joined a small pile of them that must, Harry assumed, have been delivered by house-elves in the night.

EVERYONE: OUR VERY FIRST TIME OF HARRY CELEBRATING HIS FRIEND’S BIRTHDAY.

Give him a round of applause.

. . . Harry got out of bed, opened his own trunk and began rummaging in it for the Marauder’s Map, which he hid after every use. He turfed out half the contents of his trunk before he found it hiding beneath the rolled-up socks in which he was still keeping his bottle of lucky potion, Felix Felicis.

Harry, you had no trouble keeping the train ticket in your pocket for weeks. Why not do the same for the stupid map that you evidently need for spying on Draco?

‘Nice one, Harry!’ said Ron enthusiastically, waving the new pair of Quidditch Keeper’s gloves Harry had given him.

And he gave Ron an actual present too! He’ll be like a real boy before long.

‘Seriously good haul this year!’ he announced, holding up a heavy gold watch with odd symbols around the edge and tiny moving stars instead of hands.

You know, it would’ve been nice to find out how astronomy actually ties into the world building instead of just occasionally hearing about Jupiter’s moons.

Ron looked thoughtfully at the box of Chocolate Cauldrons, then shrugged and helped himself to a third.

So this is the box of chocolates Harry got from… Romena? No, Romilda.

‘Hi, Harry!’ said Romilda Vane, the moment he had climbed through the portrait hole. ‘Fancy a Gillywater?’

‘Well, take these anyway,’ said Romilda, thrusting a box into his hands. ‘Chocolate Cauldrons, they’ve got Firewhisky in them. My gran sent them to me, but I don’t like them.’

In chapter fifteen, which happened around Yule, I think.

How’d they end up with Ron? Oh okay, Harry just chucked them out of his trunk while he was coincidentally looking for the map he should be carrying anyway, and Ron thought they were for him.

There had to be an explanation for Malfoy’s periodic disappearances, but he simply could not think what it could be.

Oh, Harry. That’s because you have no experience thinking. Hermione and others have done it all for you.

The best way of finding out would be to tail him, but even with the Invisibility Cloak this was an impractical idea; he had lessons, Quidditch practice, homework and Apparition; he could not follow Malfoy around school all day without his absence being remarked upon.

Draco gave up quidditch to focus on what he had to do. Just saying.

Friends they might be, but if Ron started calling Lavender ‘Lav-Lav’, he would have to put his foot down.

Aw, but that sounds so cute? Ha ha.

Ron was rather pale and looked as though he was about to be sick.

. . . walking up to Ron to get a better look at the glazed eyes and the pallid complexion . . .

‘This is really funny and everything,’ said Harry impatiently, ‘but joke’s over, all right? Drop it.’

He turned to leave . . .

Harry, isn’t it obvious that something is wrong? Dislodge that head out of your arse for five seconds.

He turned to leave; he had got two steps towards the door when a crashing blow hit him on the right ear. Staggering, he looked round. Ron’s fist was drawn right back, his face was contorted with rage; he was about to strike again.

Ha ha ha.

Oh please, Ron was due to one anyway.

Harry reacted instinctively; his wand was out of his pocket and the incantation sprang to mind without conscious thought: Levicorpus!

Ron yelled as his heel was wrenched upwards once more; he dangled helplessly, upside-down, his robes hanging off him.

Good thing this

High above them, floating along in mid-air, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. It was as though the masked wizards on the ground were puppeteers, and the people above them were marionettes operated by invisible strings that rose from the wands into the air. Two of the figures were very small.

More wizards were joining the marching group, laughing and pointing up at the floating bodies.

One of the marchers below flipped Mrs Roberts upside-down with his wand; her nightdress fell down to reveal voluminous drawers; she struggled to cover herself up as the crowd below her screeched and hooted with glee.

‘That’s sick,’ Ron muttered, watching the smallest Muggle child, who had begun to spin like a top, sixty feet above the ground, his head flopping limply from side to side. ‘That is really sick …’

was “really sick” lest I’d be confused when every wizard starts doing it, even to their supposed friends.

*massive eye roll*

And then he saw the box lying open on Ron’s bed and the truth hit him with the force of a stampeding troll.

Now he catches on! Good thing it didn’t take several paragraphs or anything. *eye roll*

Harry stared at the dangling Ron, whose face now looked tremendously hopeful, and fought a strong desire to laugh. A part of him – the part closest to his throbbing right ear – was quite keen on the idea of letting Ron down and watching him run amok until the effects of the potion wore off … but on the other hand, they were supposed to be friends, Ron had not been himself when he had attacked, and Harry thought that he would deserve another punching if he permitted Ron to declare undying love for Romilda Vane.

A kind reminder:

‘What really happened to your nose?’ he asked, once they were at the very back of the throng pressing out of the Hall, and out of earshot of anyone else.

Harry told him. It was a mark of the strength of their friendship that Ron did not laugh.

I keep telling you that the kid has mastered the fine art of projecting.

He sent Ron crashing back to the floor (his ear did hurt quite a lot) . . .

What a petty arse.

‘You’re late, Won-Won!’ she pouted. ‘I’ve got you a birthday –’

‘Leave me alone,’ said Ron impatiently, ‘Harry’s going to introduce me to Romilda Vane.’

And without another word to her, he pushed his way out of the portrait hole. Harry tried to make an apologetic face to Lavender, but it might have turned out simply amused, because she looked more offended than ever as the Fat Lady swung shut behind them.

Lavender does not deserve this.

‘Professor, I’m really sorry to disturb you,’ said Harry as quietly as possible, while Ron stood on tiptoe, attempting to see past Slughorn into his room, ‘but my friend Ron’s swallowed a love potion by mistake. You couldn’t make him an antidote, could you? I’d take him to Madam Pomfrey, but we’re not supposed to have anything from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes and, you know … awkward questions …’

Oh.

Well, Harry sure was quick to take advantage of Ron’s misfortune.

‘I’d have thought you could have whipped him up a remedy, Harry, an expert potioneer like you?’ asked Slughorn.

Slughorn. Please.

‘It’s his birthday, Professor,’ he added imploringly.

D’you remember this particular chapter titled The Worst Birthday in Book Two? In which Harry thought he had the worst birthday because he thought his friends were ignoring him?

And then Ron actually gets roofied and poisoned on his. On the very first and only birthday he has in these books.

‘. . . I’ve got one last bottle of this oak-matured mead … hmm … meant to give that to Dumbledore for Christmas …’

You know, you’d think that Draco would’ve learned by to not trust other people in his plans.

Perhaps, if he could just keep Slughorn in a good mood … perhaps if they got through enough of the oak-matured mead …

Oh. So this thing does in fact have alcohol in it and Slughorn’s offering it to underage kids?

(Well, not that Ron is underage anymore by wizarding standards.)

Ron had dropped his glass; he half-rose from his chair and then crumpled, his extremities jerking uncontrollably. Foam was dribbling from his mouth and his eyes were bulging from their sockets.

Ha ha.

You know what this reminds me of? Inspector Palmu’s Mistake.

Harry leapt over a low table and sprinted towards Slughorn’s open potion kit, pulling out jars and pouches, while the terrible sound of Ron’s gargling breath filled the room. Then he found it – the shrivelled kidney-like stone Slughorn had taken from him in Potions.

He hurtled back to Ron’s side, wrenched open his jaw and thrust the bezoar into his mouth. Ron gave a great shudder, a rattling gasp and his body became limp and still.

Well, isn’t it just so lucky that he got reminded of it right before this happened?

He hastened towards the store cupboard and rummaged within it, pushing aside unicorn horns and tangles of dried herbs until he found, at the very back, a small card box on which had been scribbled the word ‘Bezoars’.

And that Slughorn is apparently holding the stone in his private potion kit instead of the student store cupboard like he’s supposed to?

Harry’s spell count so far: nineteen.

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

Chapter Seventeen – A Sluggish Memory

Well, this month was a total bust in terms of goals and productivity. I’ll try to shape up, ha ha.

So, first: I’ve heard that Harry Potters are getting a television program because what stories don’t get flogged well beyond their death? I know I’m not exactly unbiased because I despise these books down to the core of my soul, but… seriously, there’s barely enough material in Harry Potters to fill these books? How do you fill a television program?

Second: I thought about waiting until it gets mentioned again buuuut I’m not sure if that will happen in this book and in Book Seven they were just in a tent, but! Let’s go over the subject of Transfiguration.

My first question is: are there any restrictions on it? Like, say, mass? I mean, I know the answer to that is no because Rowling is totally unserious as an author, ha ha, but at least in Fullmetal Alchemist there were two rules to alchemy: the conservation of mass and natural providence so all alchemists had to be knowledgeable of the matter they were transmuting down to the molecular level.

My second question is: does transfiguration wear off? Because these psychopaths use animals in this lesson, for some extremely baffling reason which implies that all of their items used to be animals. But aside from Hermione, none of them manages to successfully transfigure the animals. So… like, does this world have half-transfigured eldritch horrors roaming about? What happens to the animals after the lessons? Where do they keep them? Where do they get them?

Okay, that said. I guess I need to get to the actual chapter. *sighs*

I’m gonna use that screenshot of Lara to make myself feel better, ha ha.

Late in the afternoon, a few days after New Year, Harry, Ron and Ginny lined up beside the kitchen fire to return to Hogwarts. The Ministry had arranged this one-off connection to the Floo Network to return students quickly and safely to the school.

You know, way back in Book One I asked the question why don’t these morons use the floo network, portkeys or the bus to get to Hogwarts.

The actual answer is that Rowling just hadn’t thought of those things yet and then she goes and does this.

Good start.

Admittedly, it took very little to set her off lately; she had been crying on and off ever since Percy had stormed from the house on Christmas Day with his glasses splattered with mashed parsnip (for which Fred, George and Ginny all claimed credit).

It really is a wonder why Percy doesn’t want anything to do with his family. Boggles the mind, really.

‘Yeah, don’t worry about us,’ said Ron, permitting his mother to plant a very wet kiss on his cheek, ‘or about Percy. He’s such a prat, it’s not really a loss, is it?’

You have been belittling and bullying Percy his entire life. You literally do not have any high horse to sit on, you morons.

‘Promise me you’ll look after yourself … stay out of trouble …’

‘I always do, Mrs Weasley,’ said Harry. ‘I like a quiet life, you know me.’

Lying is unseemly, Harry.

She barely glanced up from her work as he clambered out over the grate.

So wait. They specifically arranged for the kids to come back through the floo and Minerva couldn’t even be bothered to remove the grate?

‘Evening, Potter. Try not to get too much ash on the carpet.’

Why not specifically have a carpet or some other small area for collecting ash around the fireplace?

‘Baubles,’ said Ron confidently, when they reached the Fat Lady, who was looking rather paler than usual, and winced at his loud voice.

How does a painting get drunk and hungover?

‘Oh, hang on – password. Abstinence.’

‘Overindulged over Christmas, apparently,’ said Hermione, rolling her eyes as she led the way into the packed common room. ‘She and her friend Violet drank their way through all the wine in that picture of drunk monks down by the Charms corridor. Anyway …’

No, but seriously. How does that work? Does the wine have to be repainted or…? Inquiring minds want to know.

But at that moment there was a loud squeal of ‘Won-Won!’ and Lavender Brown came hurtling out of nowhere and flung herself into Ron’s arms.

I know practically no one cared about Ron/Lavender but I think she’s cute, ha ha.

‘No, thanks, I said I’d meet Dean,’ said Ginny, though Harry could not help noticing that she did not sound very enthusiastic.

HMM? I am sensing Ron/Ginny proofs.

‘It was the Fat Lady who drank a vat of five-hundred-year-old wine, Harry, not me.’

So… was that when it was painted or…? Does repainting it reset the age or…?

When he had finished, Hermione sat in thought for a moment and then said, ‘Don’t you think –?’

‘– he was pretending to offer help so that he could trick Malfoy into telling him what he’s doing?’

I know this is a totally novel concept for these morons who can only hold one thought if that in their heads: but! what if! he was offering help and trying to get Draco to spill?

‘I’m not sure … Snape definitely said “your master”, and who else would that be?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Hermione, biting her lip. ‘Maybe his father?’

Like, please. Who would call their dad master? Never mind that Lucius is in jail.

She stared across the room, apparently lost in thought, not even noticing Lavender tickling Ron.

Ha ha, Lavender is adorable.

‘Not great,’ said Harry, and he told her all about Lupin’s mission among the werewolves and the difficulties he was facing. ‘Have you heard of this Fenrir Greyback?’

‘Yes, I have!’ said Hermione, sounding startled.

Of course. Of course the muggleborn student who found out she’s a witch six years ago knows all about Fenrir Greyback.

Hermione’s entire character is utterly obnoxious.

‘When, History of Magic? You know full well I never listened …’

Oh, Harry. You silly goose. You don’t listen in any of the classes.

‘You’re unbelievable, you are,’ said Harry, shaking his head. ‘We’ll see who’s right … you’ll be eating your words, Hermione, just like the Ministry.’

You know, it’s pretty funny. This is practically the second time Harry’s ever been right about something in his life and absolutely no one believes him because of Reasons™.

And the rest of the evening passed amicably with both of them abusing the Minister for Magic, for Hermione, like Ron, thought that after all the Ministry had put Harry through the previous year, they had a great nerve asking him for help now.

Well, I mean, it had an entirely different staff back then? And minister for magic?

Ron was just taking out his quill to sign after Hermione when Lavender crept up behind him, slipped her hands over his eyes and trilled, ‘Guess who, Won-Won?’

So… Lavender is obnoxious because she seems to genuinely like Ron? I mean, yeah, okay, she might be a little overenthusiastic about it but seriously? She’s sixteen. She’ll calm down.

‘I forgot you’d already done it … I’d better pass my test first time,’ said Ron, looking anxious. ‘Fred and George did.’

Aww, and we so totally care what the Sociopathic Twins think.

‘Yeah, but Charlie’s bigger than me,’ Ron held his arms out from his body as though he were a gorilla, ‘so Fred and George didn’t go on about it much … not to his face, anyway …’

And yet the Sociopathic Twins are everyone’s favourite brothers for Reasons™.

‘Soon as we’re seventeen. That’s only March for me!’

Aha! Ron’s birthday is mentioned! And considering it happens right during the school year it’s hilarious that no one ever mentions or celebrates it. Unlike our esteemed Boy Wonder who gets the sulks if he thinks that someone forgot about his birthday.

‘Yeah, but you wouldn’t be able to Apparate in here, not in the castle …’

Okay? What does that matter, Harry? I imagine it’s still a useful skill to have even if Ron can’t do it for a couple of months?

HARRY: But, Ron, you can’t do it for a few months so what’s the point of learning apparition!

What a moron.

‘Harry’s already Apparated,’ Ron told a slightly abashed Seamus, after Professor Flitwick had dried himself off with a wave of his wand and set Seamus lines (‘I am a wizard, not a baboon brandishing a stick’). ‘Dum— er – someone took him. Side-Along-Apparition, you know.’

‘Whoa!’ whispered Seamus, and he, Dean and Neville put their heads a little closer to hear what Apparition felt like.

So are you telling me that none of these morons, who have actual wizarding family, have ever side-alonged with their family members?

All for the sake of polishing Harry’s knob. It’s unbelievable. Who cares about logic or world building when you can make Harry seem really cool! By something he still didn’t even do by himself!

For the rest of the day, Harry was besieged with requests from the other sixth-years to describe the sensation of Apparition. All of them seemed awed, rather than put off, when he told them how uncomfortable it was, and he was still answering detailed questions at ten to eight that evening . . .

These books are killing me.

‘I have already been forced to jinx Dawlish once; I did it again with the greatest regret.’

I very much doubt Dumbles has ever regretted anything in his life. I mean, something he has done.

‘No, they don’t, and the time is not quite right for you to know, either.’

Stop. Making. These. Decisions. For. Him.

‘Yes, Harry, blessed as I am with extraordinary brainpower, I understood everything you told me,’ said Dumbledore, a little sharply. ‘I think you might even consider the possibility that I understood more than you did.’

OOOOH. HIS TRUE FEELINGS FLASHED THROUGH.

But yes, this is pretty much the only thing I can agree with Dumbles on: Harry is an utter moron.

‘Well, you are quite right, because it is not,’ said Dumbledore briskly. ‘I have two more memories to show you this evening, both obtained with enormous difficulty, and the second of them is, I think, the most important I have collected.’

None of these memories is important because Rowling has not written Tommy in a way that would make them important.

‘He was placed in Slytherin house almost the moment that the Sorting Hat touched his head.’

And that’s supposed to be an indication of how unequivocally evil this eleven-year-old kid is?

You know, honestly, whether you consider it nurture or nature, Tommy seriously did not have any chance.

‘As an unusually talented and very good-looking orphan, he naturally drew attention and sympathy from the staff almost from the moment of his arrival. He seemed polite, quiet and thirsty for knowledge. Nearly all were most favourably impressed by him.’

So basically… him and Harry are supposed to be alike? And instead of learning anything from the Tommy fiasco, these morons just repeated the whole thing with Harry?

They really are grooming their own dark wizards, probably for shits and giggles.

‘No, I did not. Though he had shown no hint of remorse, it was possible that he felt sorry for how he had behaved before and was resolved to turn over a fresh leaf. I chose to give him that chance.’

Uh-huh. Sure you did.

Dumbles does not trust people. He uses them as convenient pawns. And once they run out of their usefulness? He gets rid of them.

‘. . . the ambitious seeking some shared glory . . .’

If they’re seeking “shared glory” then they’re hardly ambitious.

‘Rigidly controlled by Riddle, they were never detected in open wrong-doing, although their seven years at Hogwarts were marked by a number of nasty incidents to which they were never satisfactorily linked, the most serious of which was, of course, the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, which resulted in the death of a girl.’

Yeah, not to be, like, cold but considering there were “attacks” and only one death, I suspect even that one death was an accident on Tommy’s part.

‘As you know, Hagrid was wrongly accused of that crime.’

HOW DO YOU ACCUSE ANYONE “WRONGLY” IN THIS WORLD? THAT HAS PENSIEVES AND TRUTH POTIONS AND MINDREADING? NO, LIKE, SERIOUSLY?

‘I have not been able to find many memories of Riddle at Hogwarts,’ said Dumbledore, placing his withered hand on the Pensieve. ‘Few who knew him then are prepared to talk about him; they are too terrified. What I know, I found out after he had left Hogwarts, after much painstaking effort, after tracing those few who could be tricked into speaking, after searching old records and questioning Muggle and wizard witnesses alike.

Also, you stupid old coot. Why didn’t you make this all public knowledge during the first war?

Harry could not help but feel a resentful admiration for Voldemort’s complete lack of fear. His face merely expressed disgust and, perhaps, disappointment.

That’s what generations of incest does to the lineage, Tommy.

And aww, Harry, don’t worry. The only thing you fear is fear because you’re so wondrously wunderfull.

You know what Tommy’s background kind of reminds me of? Sephiroth from Final Fantasy VII. Also made in the ’90s. Funny that.

‘They did not need to question him, to use Veritaserum or Legilimency.’

So they actually use the truth potion and mindreading during interrogations?

*feels rage intensifying*

*takes a deep breath*

Mind over matter.

It’s fine.

Fine.

Fine fine fine.

‘But how come the Ministry didn’t realise that Voldemort had done all that to Morfin?’ Harry asked angrily. ‘He was under age at the time, wasn’t he? I thought they could detect under-age magic!’

‘You are quite right – they can detect magic, but not the perpetrator: you will remember that you were blamed by the Ministry for the Hover Charm that was, in fact, cast by –’

Come to think of it — or did I already think of it during Book Two? — but what good is this under-age magic detection then if they can’t even tell that the magic hasn’t been cast by an under-age wizard? I mean, let’s say Tommy casts magic in Little Hangleton willy-nilly while underage but the authorities can’t ping that and instead think it’s the magic of someone decidedly not underage?

I just… I JUST!

‘Dobby,’ growled Harry; this injustice still rankled. ‘So if you’re under age and you do magic inside an adult witch or wizard’s house, the Ministry won’t know?’

‘They will certainly be unable to tell who performed the magic,’ said Dumbledore, smiling slightly at the look of great indignation on Harry’s face.

HOW DOES THAT WORK?

HOW DOES THAT MAKE SENSE?

THEY ARE NOT PINGING FOR ADULT MAGIC, RIGHT? SO IF THERE’S ONLY ONE MINOR PRESENT THEN THE ANSWER SHOULD BE OBVIOUS? IF THERE’S SUPPOSED TO BE ONLY ONE ADULT PRESENT AND THE UNDERAGE MAGIC DETECTION PINGS ANYWAY THEN SHOULD NOT THE OBVIOUS ANSWER BE THAT THERE WAS A MINOR PRESENT?

LIKE!

WHY IS EVERYTHING IN THIS WORLD SO STUPID?

‘Whatever Morfin was, he did not deserve to die as he did, blamed for murders he had not committed.’

Unlike that Sirius Black, eh?

Also, honestly I’m sick of this too. These stories go all “well, actually that totally worthless criminal wasn’t so bad :3” while never extending the same courtesy to characters who aren’t totally worthless criminals (Draco).

I mean, in the specific example of Harry Potter: these books treat muggles like utter garbage and yet Rowling is all “that Morfin wasn’t such a bad chap :3”.

Harry was so used to him bald that he found the sight of Slughorn with thick, shiny, straw-coloured hair quite disconcerting . . .

DOES ROWLING DEPICT ANY BLONDE CHARACTER POSITIVELY?

Half a dozen boys were sitting around Slughorn, all on harder or lower seats than his, and all in their mid-teens.

This seems honestly creepy and gross.

As several of the boys tittered, something very odd happened. The whole room was suddenly filled with a thick white fog, so that Harry could see nothing but the face of Dumbledore, who was standing beside him.

He really wasn’t able to do something more subtle?

And it happened all over again: the dense fog filled the room so that Harry could not see Slughorn or Riddle at all; only Dumbledore, smiling serenely beside him. Then Slughorn’s voice boomed out again, just as it had done before.

‘I don’t know anything about Horcruxes and I wouldn’t tell you if I did! Now get out of here at once and don’t let me catch you mentioning them again!’

So subtle and cunning. *massive eye roll*

‘As you might have noticed,’ said Dumbledore, reseating himself behind his desk, ‘that memory has been tampered with.’

Oh, Dumbles. You expect too much of Harry’s intellectual capabilities. Unless that was to point out that the memory was tampered with so Harry will catch on and you don’t have to explain?

‘Tampered with?’ repeated Harry, sitting back down too.

Like I said, ha ha ha!

Sometimes this utter moron amuses me.

‘And so, for the first time, I am giving you homework, Harry. It will be your job to persuade Professor Slughorn to divulge the real memory, which will undoubtedly be our most crucial piece of information of all.’

Dumbles. Evidently you already know all the stuff that goes on these memories because you have a Horcrux right in your shrivelled hand and you destroyed it.

We. Do. Not. Need. To. See. These.

‘He is much more accomplished at Occlumency than poor Morfin Gaunt, and I would be astonished if he has not carried an antidote to Veritaserum with him ever since I coerced him into giving me this travesty of a recollection.

‘. . . coerced . . .’

Another slip of the truth, I’m sure.

‘No, I think it would be foolish to attempt to wrest the truth from Professor Slughorn by force, and might do much more harm than good; I do not wish him to leave Hogwarts. However, he has his weaknesses like the rest of us and I believe that you are the one person who might be able to penetrate his defences. It is most important that we secure the true memory, Harry … how important, we will only know when we have seen the real thing. So, good luck … and goodnight.’

So basically… “whore yourself out, Harry, or else”?

Harry’s spell count so far: nineteen.

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

Chapter Sixteen – A Very Frosty Christmas

It’s been a month, again, since I last read or thought about these books. *sighs* At this rate, I’ll finish re-reading them next year.

Well, nothing to it. Let’s keep going!

But before that, I’ll just preface a bit with an anecdote. The other day someone I know said to me, “why is Harry Potter so important to you? You talk about it all the time”.

me: *side-eyes the entire month I haven’t read or thought about these books again, or the last chapter coda I wrote in December*

So I started racking my brain, like, when’s the last time I even talked about Harry Potter to these people? Because to me “talking about Harry Potter” would mean rambling about headcanons, or ranting about how terrible these dumb books are, or even talking about my recent thought that James Potter actually could be abusive even if he did sort of kind of die protecting his family. Maybe. I mean, the whole dying thing wouldn’t negate him also being abusive.

Because this is the same twat who got fixated on a girl, started bullying, harassing and torturing said girl’s “friend” so he could blackmail her into dating him, and when said girl acted uppity and tried to put a stop to it, he threatened her with violence.

‘Ah, Evans, don’t make me hex you,’ said James earnestly.

He said ‘earnestly’. As in, he was serious about it.

But no, it’s totally Severus who is bad for calling her a mudblood — James would never! — when he’s been bullied, sexually harassed, humiliated in front of the whole school, agitated, stressed, and so forth, and Lily actually never so much as lifted a finger to help out her “friend”, nope, her time was much better spent hate-flirting with James.

So the upshot is that I’m going to make James into an abusive twat in that Harry Potter Rewrite because, as far as I’m concerned, the text says that he pretty much is.

But girls, you should really beware of “bad boys” like Draco Malfoy, mmkay?

Like, be serious.

I digress, though. So I went to look at my old messages and as it turned out, it was that. That moment over a month ago when I was talking about what a disaster Buffy the Vampire Slayer was and someone’s argument that it has to be good, look at how popular it is! And I used Harry Potter as an example of another thing that’s popular and yet it’s unmitigated trash for bullies.

In other words, I was talking about the fact that popularity is not quality.

And I’m just like, this person’s reading comprehension is really special. Truly.

If she wants an example of “why is Harry Potter so important to you, you talk about it all the time” then she should really look at her own son. Who said that he’s going to blow up an atomic bomb if the powers that be dare to ruin Harry Potter.

me: *squints* You can ruin it more than it already is?

Moreover, if he wants to blow up an atomic bomb, he really should do it for a better and more important reason than Harry Potter.

They were standing alone at The Burrow’s kitchen sink, peeling a mountain of sprouts for Mrs Weasley.

Sprouts. Like, those tiny seedling things or broccoli or Brussels sprouts? Because out of those, you only need to peel the broccoli, right?

Do wizards have grocery shops?

What am I asking, of course they don’t.

‘You die,’ said Ron simply. ‘Fred and George tried to get me to make one when I was about five. I nearly did, too, I was holding hands with Fred and everything when Dad found us. He went mental,’ said Ron, with a reminiscent gleam in his eyes. ‘Only time I’ve ever seen Dad as angry as Mum. Fred reckons his left buttock has never been the same since.’

What d’you wanna bet that the Sociopathic Twins were asking for something really stupid too? Like, “I solemnly swear I’ll be your slave forever or else I’ll die”? Why are these sociopaths everyone’s favourites again?

‘I’ll be seventeen in two and a bit months’ time,’ said Ron grumpily, ‘and then I’ll be able to do it by magic!’

So, they’re at Yule break right now, right? And Ron’s birthday was on the 1st of March, right? I don’t know, wouldn’t it have been easier to say “I’ll be seventeen in March” instead of “in two and a bit months’ time”?

Mrs Weasley entered the room just in time to see Ron throw the sprouts knife at Fred, who turned it into a paper aeroplane with one lazy flick of his wand.

So we’re throwing knives now?

…..too bad it didn’t hit.

‘Ron!’ she said furiously. ‘Don’t you ever let me see you throwing knives again!’

So… he can throw them so long as you’re not there to see?

‘Fred, George, I’m sorry, dears, but Remus is arriving tonight, so Bill will have to squeeze in with you two!’

Since when did these morons become friends with Lupin?

Was it the order business that none of them is actually doing?

‘Then, as Charlie isn’t coming home, that just leaves Harry and Ron in the attic, and if Fleur shares with Ginny –’

Wait, Lupin is staying over?

Why?

‘Percy definitely not showing his ugly face, then?’ asked Fred.

Mrs Weasley turned away before she answered.

‘No, he’s busy, I expect, at the Ministry.’

‘Or he’s the world’s biggest prat,’ said Fred . . .

It’s a wonder why Percy doesn’t want to associate with these people. They’re just so wunderfull too.

‘It’s very character-building stuff, learning to peel sprouts without magic, makes you appreciate how difficult it is for Muggles and Squibs –’

Please stop talking. Preferably forever.

Oh, wait. Wasn’t it Fred who got his sorry arse killed? Ha ha, sweet. I mean… *averts eyes*

‘Gits,’ said Ron darkly, watching Fred and George setting off across the snowy yard. ‘Would’ve only taken them ten seconds and then we could’ve gone, too.’

Aw, but I thought they were your favourite brothers even though they constantly act like sociopaths?

‘I couldn’t,’ said Harry. ‘I promised Dumbledore I wouldn’t wander off while I’m staying here.’

And Harry is all about keeping promises!

‘Yep,’ said Harry. ‘I’m going to tell anyone who can put a stop to it and Dumbledore’s top of the list. I might have another word with your dad, too.’

For once he’s trying and of course it’s not going anywhere.

‘They’ll say Snape isn’t really trying to help Malfoy, he was just trying to find out what Malfoy’s up to.’

‘They didn’t hear him,’ said Harry flatly. ‘No one’s that good an actor, not even Snape.’

‘Obviously, Harry, he was pretending to offer help so he could trick Malfoy into telling him what he’s doing …’

You know, he could be doing both?

But of course he isn’t because Severus is only allowed to care about one stupid bint and Draco doesn’t deserve anything good in life.

Unlike James “Lily, Don’t Make Me Hex You” Potter.

This was pure imagination, however, as he had had no opportunity to tell Hermione what he had overheard.

Harry and imagination! Will the wonders ever cease.

Fred, George, Harry and Ron were the only ones who knew that the angel on top of the tree was actually a garden gnome that had bitten Fred on the ankle as he pulled up carrots for Christmas dinner. Stupefied, painted gold, stuffed into a miniature tutu and with small wings glued to its back, it glowered down at them all, the ugliest angel Harry had ever seen, with a large bald head like a potato and rather hairy feet.

They were all supposed to be listening to a Christmas broadcast by Mrs Weasley’s favourite singer, Celestina Warbeck, whose voice was warbling out of the large wooden wireless.

You know, when did they get a wireless? And why?

‘Mphf?’ said Mr Weasley, whose head had been nodding over the satsuma he was peeling.

Satsuma? Like, mandarins?

Since when, though?

Has Rowling ever mentioned fruits before this?

‘I’m afraid so,’ said Mr Weasley. ‘I know Dumbledore’s tried appealing directly to Scrimgeour about Stan … I mean, anybody who has actually interviewed him agrees that he’s about as much a Death Eater as this satsuma … but the top levels want to look as though they’re making some progress, and “three arrests” sounds better than “three mistaken arrests and releases” … but again, this is all top secret …’

These people are honest to god too stupid to live.

‘I checked, Harry,’ said Mr Weasley at once. ‘I went and searched the Malfoys’ house. There was nothing, either broken or whole, that shouldn’t have been there.’

Didn’t the entire death eater gang live there? Or was it just a fan fiction thing? Oh, probably since in that fan fiction Lupin was there too and he certainly isn’t saying anything in canon.

‘Has it occurred to you, Harry,’ said Mr Weasley, ‘that Snape was simply pretending –’

‘Pretending to offer help, so that he could find out what Malfoy’s up to?’

Again, he could be genuinely offering to help and trying to find out what Draco’s up to?

Like, those two things aren’t mutually exclusive?

But wait, holding two separate thoughts and motivations in one’s head is too complex for these people.

‘It’s Dumbledore’s business. Dumbledore trusts Severus, and that ought to be good enough for all of us.’

You’re all honestly worse sycophants than death eaters.

‘I neither like nor dislike Severus,’ said Lupin. ‘No, Harry, I am speaking the truth,’ he added, as Harry pulled a sceptical expression. ‘We shall never be bosom friends, perhaps; after all that happened between James and Sirius and Severus, there is too much bitterness there. But I do not forget that during the year I taught at Hogwarts, Severus made the Wolfsbane Potion for me every month, made it perfectly, so that I did not have to suffer as I usually do at the full moon.’

It’s so cute how he leaves out the whole murder-eat attempt or the fact that he totally undermined Severus’ authority in the whole school and made him a laughingstock. That was all Lupin, Lupin whose friends had been bullying the man in school and he didn’t lift a finger to stop it.

‘The news would have leaked out anyway. We both know he wanted my job, but he could have wreaked much worse damage on me by tampering with the Potion. He kept me healthy. I must be grateful.’

Do we really “know” that Severus wants the defence against the dark arts job?

Oh no, wait. He applied for the position at some unspecified point in time (Book Five).

Celestina ended her song on a very long, high-pitched note and loud applause issued out of the wireless, which Mrs Weasley joined in with enthusiastically.

…..why is there applause on the radio? I mean, the wireless is a radio, right? Do people often applaud on the radio?

‘I’ve been living among my fellows, my equals,’ said Lupin. ‘Werewolves,’ he added, at Harry’s look of incomprehension. ‘Nearly all of them are on Voldemort’s side. Dumbledore wanted a spy and here I was … ready-made.’

“My fellows”.

“My equals”.

“Nearly all of them are on Voldemort’s side”.

“Dumbledore wanted a spy and here I was… ready-made”.

Like, why to all of that?

Moreover, he’s seriously identifying more with cannibalistic implied pedophilic werewolves who side with Tommy over… I don’t know… his so-called friends and family?

And why would he be a ready-made spy just because he’s a werewolf? I mean, Peter is working for Tommy? Shouldn’t he of all people know that Lupin isn’t a Tommy supporter?

‘How come they like Voldemort?’

‘They think that, under his rule, they will have a better life,’ said Lupin.

Well, quite possibly?

‘Greyback specialises in children … bite them young, he says, and raise them away from their parents, raise them to hate normal wizards.’

How is that any different from what normal wizards do?

‘But you are normal!’ said Harry fiercely. ‘You’ve just got a – a problem –’

Lupin isn’t “normal” by any stretch of the imagination, and I’m not talking about the lycanthropy.

But speaking of the lycanthropy, I have a very nifty solution for that:

‘. . . 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.’

*massive eye roll*

‘Sometimes you remind me a lot of James. He called it my “furry little problem” in company. Many people were under the impression that I owned a badly behaved rabbit.’

Something about this sounds disgusting but maybe it’s just because I severely dislike these characters.

‘One of them was Levicorpus –’

‘Oh, that one had a great vogue during my time at Hogwarts,’ said Lupin reminiscently. ‘There were a few months in my fifth year when you couldn’t move for being hoisted into the air by your ankle.’

I am honest to god sick of these books.

‘My dad used it,’ said Harry. ‘I saw him in the Pensieve, he used it on Snape.’

By the way, how did a spell Severus invented go around Hogwarts so hard that it came back to be used on him?

‘James was a pure-blood, Harry, and I promise you, he never asked us to call him “Prince”.’

Kind of hard to believe but okay.

Maybe he asked them to call the ruler of the universe instead?

There he turned its pages, searching, until he finally found, at the front of the book, the date that it had been published. It was nearly fifty years old. Neither his father, nor his father’s friends, had been at Hogwarts fifty years ago.

The date of its publication doesn’t mean it was used only by people who lived fifty years ago.

Dangling from the chain in large gold letters were the words ‘My Sweetheart’.

Ha ha, but Lavender is so cute, though?

‘How could she think I’d like something like that, though?’ Ron demanded of thin air, looking rather shocked.

Well, it is gold after all.

‘I didn’t think of giving Kreacher anything! Do people usually give their house-elves Christmas presents?’ asked Harry, prodding the parcel cautiously.

Harry, please jump off a cliff. Seriously.

A moment later, Harry had given a loud yell and leapt out of his camp bed; the package contained a large number of maggots.

Kreacher was great too.

And then Rowling had to ruin him.

Everybody was wearing new sweaters when they all sat down for Christmas lunch, everyone except Fleur (on whom, it appeared, Mrs Weasley had not wanted to waste one) . . .

In fact, all of these characters can jump off a cliff.

Except for Draco. ♡

‘Well, we find we appreciate you more and more, Mum, now we’re washing our own socks,’ said George, waving an airy hand.

Uh-huh.

‘Harry, you’ve got a maggot in your hair,’ said Ginny cheerfully, leaning across the table to pick it out; Harry felt goosebumps erupt up his neck that had nothing to do with the maggot.

This is so boring.

Everybody looked quickly at the window; Ginny stood up for a better view.

Does this mean that Ginny is short?

There was a moment’s painful silence. Then Percy said rather stiffly, ‘Merry Christmas, Mother.’

‘Oh, Percy!’ said Mrs Weasley, and she threw herself into his arms.

Rufus Scrimgeour paused in the doorway, leaning on his walking stick and smiling as he observed this affecting scene.

Oh yes, I’m very affected.

But Percy showed no sign of wanting to greet any of the rest of the family. He stood, poker-straight and awkward-looking, and stared over everybody else’s heads. Mr Weasley, Fred and George were all observing him, stony-faced.

You’ve all been either bullying him or allowing his bullying for years. So how about y’all shove that self-righteousness up your arses?

‘Oh yes, for a very long time. But Dumbledore has been very protective of you,’ said Scrimgeour. ‘Natural, of course, natural, after what you’ve been through … especially what happened at the Ministry …’

I am so bored.

‘Well, of course, to you it will matter enormously,’ said Scrimgeour with a laugh. ‘But to the wizarding community at large … it’s all perception, isn’t it? It’s what people believe that’s important.’

Can we, like, just not? Do this Harry Potter attempt at political intrigue? Because I’d rather have a pleasant evening of clawing my eyes out?

‘They think you quite the hero – which, of course, you are, Harry, chosen or not!

“It’s what people believe that’s important,” indeed.

Or how about “people here’ll believe anything”?

‘How many times have you faced He Who Must Not Be Named now? Well, anyway,’ he pressed on, without waiting for a reply, ‘the point is, you are a symbol of hope for many, Harry. The idea that there is somebody out there who might be able, who might even be destined, to destroy He Who Must Not Be Named – well, naturally, it gives people a lift. And I can’t help but feel that, once you realise this, you might consider it, well, almost a duty, to stand alongside the Ministry, and give everyone a boost.’

Like, seriously. Can we not?

‘Dolores Umbridge has told me that you cherish an ambition to become an Auror. Well, that could be arranged very easily …’

Harry felt anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach: so Dolores Umbridge was still at the Ministry, was she?

Lupin, Sirius, James, Hagrid were also “still at Hogwarts”, Harry. You, too, are still at Hogwarts, even after you almost murdered another student.

You know, as an aside, recently I read that Harry Potter is about “the overwhelming power of love”. I was like, love? There’s love in these books? All the rampant, unrepentant bullying and abuse must’ve distracted me from that totally obvious theme.

‘Dumbledore’s a lot older than sixteen, and he doesn’t think Stan should be in Azkaban either,’ said Harry. ‘You’re making Stan a scapegoat, just like you want to make me a mascot.’

Harry, you really don’t have any more function than a mascot in these books, though?

my fancy artistic rendition

‘I don’t want to be used,’ said Harry.

“I would much rather be used by Dumbles,” said Harry, earnestly.

‘You don’t care whether I live or die . . .’

Frankly speaking, Harry, none of these people care whether you live or die.

‘What is Dumbledore up to?’ said Scrimgeour brusquely. ‘Where does he go, when he is absent from Hogwarts?’

‘No idea,’ said Harry.

‘And you wouldn’t tell me if you knew,’ said Scrimgeour, ‘would you?’

‘No, I wouldn’t,’ said Harry.

‘Well, then, I shall have to see whether I can’t find out by other means.’

Is this seriously the Harry Potter attempt at political intrigue? People just stating stuff directly at each other?

‘Dumbledore’s man through and through, aren’t you, Potter?’

‘Yeah, I am,’ said Harry. ‘Glad we straightened that out.’

Isn’t it such a wonder then that Dumbles most certainly cares whether Harry lives or dies!

*massive eye roll*

Thankfully, that was that.

Harry’s spell count so far: nineteen.

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

Chapter Fifteen – The Unbreakable Vow

You know, it’s taking me so long to re-read these dumb books that I’m kind of starting to forget what happened previously. In a way it’s a blessing but not conducive to writing fan fics.

It’s not even that these books are hard to read. I could read one in a day if I put my mind to it. But it’s a combination of not wanting to read them and doing these.

Large groups of girls tended to converge underneath the mistletoe bunches every time Harry went past, which caused blockages in the corridors . . .

I’ll just repeat: this book almost had a plot.

He considered Harry for a moment.

‘You didn’t hear anything I care about, Potter. But while I’ve got you here …’

And he stamped, hard, on Harry’s face. Harry felt his nose break; blood spurted everywhere.

‘That’s from my father. Now, let’s see …’

Malfoy dragged the Cloak out from under Harry’s immobilised body and threw it over him.

‘I don’t reckon they’ll find you till the train’s back in London,’ he said quietly. ‘See you around, Potter … or not.’

And taking care to tread on Harry’s fingers, Malfoy left the compartment.

The kid currently working for Tommy could’ve sent Harry gift-wrapped for him.

But instead, Rowling saw it was more pertinent to waste time on showing what a total stud! Harry is.

What d’you wanna bet that it was because her readers were finding Draco Malfoy hot?

. . . fortunately, however, Harry’s frequent night-time wanderings had given him an unusually good knowledge of the castle’s secret passageways, so that he was able, without too much difficulty, to navigate mistletoe-free routes between classes.

Hmm… I don’t think he’s wandered around at night that much? I mean, it’s not like he does it as a hobby? Besides, you’d think he has a better knowledge of the castle’s secret passageways because of the fancy magical map that shows them all?

Firstly, Harry had to put up with the frequent presence of Lavender Brown, who seemed to regard any moment that she was not kissing Ron as a moment wasted . . .

Ha ha, Lavender is honestly cute, though?

. . . and secondly, Harry found himself, once more, the best friend of two people who seemed unlikely ever to speak to each other again.

Oh, Harry, how I just adore that “BUT WHAT ABOUT ME?” attitude.

Ron, whose hands and forearms still bore scratches and cuts from Hermione’s bird attack . . .

#all of these characters are bullies and abusers

‘She can’t complain,’ he told Harry. ‘She snogged Krum. So she’s found out someone wants to snog me, too. Well, it’s a free country. I haven’t done anything wrong.’

Well, he does have a point. It’s not like they were dating and looking at the history of their interactions, particularly from Hermione, I really don’t think they even should be dating.

Also! To reiterate: WE ALMOST HAD A PLOT IN THIS BOOK AND ROWLING DECIDED TO WASTE TREES FOR THIS GARBAGE.

Determined as he was to remain friends with both Ron and Hermione, he was spending a lot of time with his mouth shut tight.

Harry, stop being such a useless fence sitter.

I’ll just reiterate this too: while it’s true that Harry is willing and ready to “heroically” die for his, for the lack of a better term, friends, he also does nothing for them.

‘I never promised Hermione anything,’ Ron mumbled. ‘I mean, all right, I was going to go to Slughorn’s Christmas party with her, but she never said … just as friends … I’m a free agent …’

You know, Ron, if you’re just going to feel bad about doing something, you might as well not do it?

Ron’s voice tailed away in mutters, barely audible over the loud crackling of the fire, though Harry thought he caught the words ‘Krum’ and ‘can’t complain’ again.

You know what, I don’t even care: WE ALMOST HAD A PLOT IN THIS BOOK.

Hermione’s timetable was so full . . .

No, it’s not, you liar.

‘He’s at perfect liberty to kiss whomever he likes,’ said Hermione, while the librarian, Madam Pince, prowled the shelves behind them. ‘I really couldn’t care less.’

I’ll repeat: THIS BOOK ALMOST HAD A PLOT.

‘I am not giving back this book, I’ve learned more from the Half-Blood Prince than Snape or Slughorn have taught me in –’

Why?

Why isn’t Severus teaching his Better Ways to Make Potions as a teacher?

Why isn’t he teaching any of the stuff he learned or discovered as a student?

WHY ARE THESE BOOKS SO — !!!!!!!!!!

This is hell. If you want a picture of hell, imagine being forced to re-read these books — for ever.

‘I’m talking about earlier. I went into the girls’ bathroom just before I came in here and there were about a dozen girls in there, including that Romilda Vane, trying to decide how to slip you a love potion. They’re all hoping they’re going to get you to take them to Slughorn’s party and they all seem to have bought Fred and George’s love potions, which I’m afraid to say probably work –’

THIS BOOK ALMOST HAD A PLOT.

‘There isn’t anyone I want to invite,’ mumbled Harry, who was still trying not to think about Ginny any more than he could help, despite the fact that she kept cropping up in his dreams in ways that made him devoutly thankful that Ron could not perform Legilimency.

Ew, ew, ew, I feel violated. I don’t want to hear about the Boy Wonder’s wet dreams, no matter how obliquely.

Hermione gave him the kind of nasty look she had just given his copy of Advanced Potion-Making.

‘It was all on the back of the bottles they showed Ginny and me in the summer,’ she said coldly. ‘I don’t go around putting potions in people’s drinks … or pretending to, either, which is just as bad …’

Yes, they’re such wondrously wondrous friends.

‘Look,’ sighed Hermione, ‘Secrecy Sensors detect jinxes, curses and concealment charms, don’t they? They’re used to find Dark magic and Dark objects. They’d have picked up a powerful curse, like the one on that necklace, within seconds. But something that’s just been put in the wrong bottle wouldn’t register – and anyway, love potions aren’t Dark or dangerous –’

Okay, no no wait. This sentence

‘But something that’s just been put in the wrong bottle wouldn’t register – and anyway, love potions aren’t Dark or dangerous –’

makes it sound like you could just put a dangerous or dark potion into a different bottle and it wouldn’t necessarily register.

By the way, speaking of love potions since we’re on the topic This Book Almost Had a Plot. Do we ever get men giving women love potions in these books? No? And can you imagine why that is? Because Rowling knows exactly that love potions are the magical equivalent of date rape drugs but aw, women are too pure and good to do that.

‘It’s not my fault she’s barking mad, Hermione. Or d’you think she overheard you being rude about Filch? I’ve always thought there might be something going on between them …’

I literally do not remember a single instance of what might’ve given Harry this impression. I don’t even remember Argus and Pince interacting once.

. . . the deserted, lamp-lit corridors . . .

Huh. Were Hogwarts corridors always lamp-lit? I need to check that later.

‘Hi, Harry!’ said Romilda Vane, the moment he had climbed through the portrait hole. ‘Fancy a Gillywater?’

‘Well, take these anyway,’ said Romilda, thrusting a box into his hands. ‘Chocolate Cauldrons, they’ve got Firewhisky in them. My gran sent them to me, but I don’t like them.’

Why is a chocolate brand named Gillywater?

Or is gillywater a separate thing from the chocolates, the writing just gives the impression that the paragraphs are following each other?

It now seemed impossible that Ron and Hermione would make up with each other before the holidays began, but perhaps, somehow, the break would give them time to calm down, think better of their behaviour …

Harry, none of you ‘think’ let alone ‘think better’.

Ron retaliated by doing a cruel but accurate impression of Hermione jumping up and down in her seat every time Professor McGonagall asked a question . . .

You know who else does impressions?

Draco.

And she hurried off, without giving Harry any time to offer words of comfort, though admittedly he could not think of any.

Well, not a surprise. I seriously can’t remember this kid ever comforting anyone.

Oh wait! There was that one hilarious time when he gave Neville weeks old chocolate, ha ha ha.

‘He says very funny things sometimes, doesn’t he?’ said Luna, as they set off down the corridor together. ‘But he can be a bit unkind. I noticed that last year.’

You know who else — you know what, I can’t be bothered.

‘Oh, it’s been all right,’ said Luna. ‘A bit lonely without the DA. Ginny’s been nice, though. She stopped two boys in our Transfiguration class calling me “Loony” the other day –’

And yet she was calling her Loony herself just last year. How they grow.

…..wait. Does that mean that Ravenclaws and Gryffindors, year 1992, have Herbology and Transfiguration together?

‘How would you like to come to Slughorn’s party with me tonight?’

The words were out of Harry’s mouth before he could stop them; he heard himself say them as though it were a stranger speaking.

WE ALMOST HAD A PLOT IN THIS BOOK.

‘Don’t call her that, Ron,’ snapped Ginny, pausing behind Harry on her way to join friends. ‘I’m really glad you’re taking her, Harry, she’s so excited.’

One) Ginny is one to talk but I guess she’s still mad at Ron for implying that she’s a slut.

Two) I — really don’t feel for this patronising tone she’s taking with Luna.

But Ron did not seem to have heard; Lavender had just arrived with Parvati. Squeezing herself in between Harry and Ron, Lavender flung her arms around Ron’s neck.

‘Hi, Harry,’ said Parvati who, like him, looked faintly embarrassed and bored by the behaviour of their two friends.

Huh. So why is Ron the only one getting shit for not wanting to see his little sister eating face in public?

…..or semi-public.

Parvati positively beamed. Harry could tell that she was feeling guilty for having laughed at Hermione in Transfiguration.

Why, though? You’re all bullies anyway?

‘Hi, Parvati!’ said Hermione, ignoring Ron and Lavender completely. ‘Are you going to Slughorn’s party tonight?’

‘No invite,’ said Parvati gloomily. ‘I’d love to go, though, it sounds like it’s going to be really good … you’re going, aren’t you?’

‘Yes, I’m meeting Cormac at eight and we’re –’

You know, why couldn’t Hermione take Parvati as her date?

There was a noise like a plunger being withdrawn from a blocked sink and Ron surfaced.

I repeat: WE ALMOST HAD A PLOT IN THIS BOOK.

And for the love of gods, I could’ve lived my whole life without reading these words. And I would’ve been happy.

Harry was left to ponder in silence the depths to which girls would sink to get revenge.

I am pondering the depths to which these books would sink.

When he arrived in the Entrance Hall at eight o’clock that night, he found an unusually large number of girls lurking there, all of whom seemed to be staring at him resentfully as he approached Luna.

‘Slughorn’s office,’ said Harry, leading her up the marble staircase away from all the staring and muttering.

If they’re just going to go back up, why couldn’t they meet on the floor of Slughorn’s office?

. . . in which real fairies were fluttering, each a brilliant speck of light.

Forget about house-elves, let’s talk about fairy labour laws.

‘Harry, m’boy!’ boomed Slughorn, almost as soon as Harry and Luna had squeezed in through the door. ‘Come in, come in, so many people I’d like you to meet!’

Uh-huh, because Harry is so totally behind all the nepotism.

Worple, who was a small, bespectacled man, grabbed Harry’s hand and shook it enthusiastically; the vampire Sanguini, who was tall and emaciated with dark shadows under his eyes, merely nodded.

A vampire named Sanguini. Might as well have named him Bloodsport.

‘I would be delighted to write it myself – people are craving to know more about you, dear boy, craving!’

Hate to break it to you — or on second thought, I don’t — but there really isn’t much to tell about Harry. Brainless kid being groomed to die, gets saved from his brainlessness by Rowling ex machina and his more competent friends and adults.

‘Oh, I’ve just escaped – I mean, I’ve just left Cormac,’ she said. ‘Under the mistletoe,’ she added in explanation, as Harry continued to look questioningly at her.

‘Serves you right for coming with him,’ he told her severely.

Ha ha, it serves Hermione right to be basically sexually harassed.

These books, they’re a gift.

‘I thought he’d annoy Ron most,’ said Hermione dispassionately.

Huh. There’s that word again in relation to Ron and his relationships. ‘Dispassionately’.

‘No, I’ve got Firenze this year,’ said Luna.

‘Oh, of course,’ said Professor Trelawney with an angry, drunken titter. ‘Or Dobbin, as I prefer to think of him. You would have thought, would you not, that now I am returned to the school Professor Dumbledore might have got rid of the horse? But no … we share classes … it’s an insult, frankly, an insult. Do you know …’

Why is it okay for these characters to call centaurs ‘horses’ but uttering the word mudblood at a girl who dissed you first is deserving of death?

‘Quidditch!’ said Hermione angrily. ‘Is that all boys care about? Cormac hasn’t asked me one single question about myself, no, I’ve just been treated to A Hundred Great Saves Made by Cormac McLaggen non-stop, ever since – oh no, here he comes!’

Well, why do girls only want to talk about themselves, Hermione?

‘My dear boy!’ she said in a very carrying whisper. ‘The rumours! The stories! The Chosen One! Of course, I have known for a very long time … the omens were never good, Harry … but why have you not returned to Divination? For you, of all people, the subject is of the utmost importance!’

Because Harry is a moron and Rowling doesn’t want to do anything interesting with divination?

‘But I don’t think I’ve ever known such a natural at Potions!’ said Slughorn, regarding Harry with a fond, if bloodshot, eye. ‘Instinctive, you know – like his mother! I’ve only ever taught a few with this kind of ability, I can tell you that, Sybill – why, even Severus –’

Because I can’t stand Lily I’m going to headcanon that she, too, was using Severus’ potions knowledge to excel at it. Just like her useless son! As these books have so judiciously taught me: a rotten apple doesn’t fall far off a rotten tree.

Trapped, with Slughorn’s arm around his shoulders, Snape looked down his hooked nose at Harry, his black eyes narrowed.

‘Funny, I never had the impression that I managed to teach Potter anything at all.’

I have enormous amounts of respect for this man. I will give him all the good things in the world and let him keep his eternal contempt for all things Potter, unlike all the other fan fics.

. . . Draco Malfoy being dragged by the ear towards them by Argus Filch.

And here comes my favourite character in these books. ♡♡

‘Professor Slughorn,’ wheezed Filch, his jowls aquiver and the maniacal light of mischief-detection in his bulging eyes, ‘I discovered this boy lurking in an upstairs corridor. He claims to have been invited to your party and to have been delayed in setting out. Did you issue him with an invitation?’

Malfoy pulled himself free of Filch’s grip, looking furious.

‘All right, I wasn’t invited!’ he said angrily. ‘I was trying to gatecrash, happy?’

Honestly, Draco would’ve come up with a better explanation but Rowling had to get him to the party so Harry could eavesdrop and hear pertinent information. Because gods know that kid isn’t going to get anything done without divine intervention.

But almost before Harry had registered what he had seen, Filch had turned and shuffled away, muttering under his breath; Malfoy had composed his face into a smile and was thanking Slughorn for his generosity . . .

Hee, he’s so cute. ♡

‘He always spoke very highly of you, sir,’ said Malfoy quickly. ‘Said you were the best potion-maker he’d ever known …’

Harry stared at Malfoy. It was not the sucking up that intrigued him; he had watched Malfoy do that to Snape for a long time.

You know, Harry, it’s also called ‘being polite’. Not that you’d know anything about that because people you dislike aren’t even persons.

It was easy, once out of the party, to pull his Invisibility Cloak out of his pocket . . .

How does that thing fit in his pocket? It’s big enough to hide three teenagers.

The rest was just Severus and Draco blah blah blahing and I didn’t find it so interesting to comment. Because, and I repeat, we almost had a plot in this book.

And instead we got this.

Harry’s spell count so far: nineteen.

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

Chapter Fourteen – Felix Felicis

It would seem that I am physically incapable of re-reading these books faster.

…..dammit.

‘Wow, scary thought, the boy You-Know-Who,’ said Ron quietly, as they took their places around one of the gnarled Snargaluff stumps that formed that term’s project, and began pulling on their protective gloves. ‘But I still don’t get why Dumbledore’s showing you all this. I mean, it’s really interesting and everything, but what’s the point?’

That’s a good question, Ron. Because this would’ve been a lot more useful way back in Tommy’s heyday when Dumbles should’ve worked to demystify him but didn’t. Because! Dumbles is an utter moron.

‘Dunno,’ said Harry, inserting a gum shield. ‘But he says it’s all important and it’ll help me survive.’

You are so utterly stupid and unquestioning that it’s almost cute. That said, Harry still deserves the death he gets. Too bad it didn’t stick.

‘I think it’s fascinating,’ said Hermione earnestly. ‘It makes absolute sense to know as much about Voldemort as possible. How else will you find out his weaknesses?’

Aaaand why hasn’t any of it been common knowledge since Tommy became a thing?

You know, I really don’t like Hermione. But I really don’t like 99% of these characters.

Speaking of one of the only characters I like in these godawful books! I recently saw the question “Why Do People Defend Draco Malfoy?” and it’s like, his character literally does not need defending? There’s nothing to defend. He’s just a massive dork of a kid who becomes obnoxious towards people who are rude to him first?

Did anyone — besides me, that is — actually read these books? I’m asking sincerely.

‘Gwenog Jones?’ said Ron, his eyes widening under his own goggles. ‘ The Gwenog Jones? Captain of the Holyhead Harpies?’

‘That’s right,’ said Hermione. ‘Personally, I thought she was a bit full of herself, but –’

Huh. So Gwenog is a girl.

One tangled itself in Hermione’s hair and Ron beat it back with a pair of secateurs . . .

Secateurs? There’s a word I’ve never seen before.

Oh, okay. It means pruning shears.

‘You know, I don’t think I’ll be having any of these in my garden when I’ve got my own place,’ said Ron, pushing his goggles up on to his forehead and wiping sweat from his face.

Ron wants his own place. Good to know for that Ron/Ginny fic that I’ll totally write once I get on it.

To be honest, starting that fic is going so badly that I hate myself. I mean, I have that entire fic basically written in bullet points but no actual words to start the thing.

‘“Slug Club”,’ repeated Ron with a sneer worthy of Malfoy.

As an aside, I am planning to make Ron and Draco friends in that Ron/Ginny fic. Because, er, I’m not going to be kind to Harry in it.

Harry suddenly wished the pod had flown a little further, so that he need not have been sitting there with the pair of them. Unnoticed by either, he seized the bowl that contained the pod and began to try and open it by the noisiest and most energetic means he could think of; unfortunately, he could still hear every word of their conversation.

You know, to be honest, I’m re-reading these books and I just for the life of me don’t understand how any Harry ship came to be. Like, Harry? Is not shippable. Not with Ron, not with Hermione, not with Ginny and most certainly not with Draco who deserves all the good things in the world.

And Harry/Severus and Harry/Tommy are just creepy and gross. I get the latter at least but seriously, no. No to both.

Hermione looked flustered and immediately started fussing about for her copy of Flesh-Eating Trees of the World to find out the correct way to juice Snargaluff pods . . .

I mean… shouldn’t they have already checked this before they started doing whatever it is they’re doing to that plant?

It was not as though he was really surprised, thought Harry, as he wrestled with a thorny vine intent upon throttling him; he had had an inkling that this might happen sooner or later. But he was not sure how he felt about it … he and Cho were now too embarrassed to look at each other, let alone talk to each other; what if Ron and Hermione started going out together, then split up?

Because… you and Cho were certainly tremendously good friends before you started going out? For, like, one date? You were just so totally interested in her as a person and certainly! did not have your best friend scar her best friend for life as petty revenge?

I really can’t stomach this kid. He’s so stupid he makes me want to cry.

Could their friendship survive it? Harry remembered the few weeks when they had not been talking to each other in the third year; he had not enjoyed trying to bridge the distance between them. And then, what if they didn’t split up? What if they became like Bill and Fleur, and it became excruciatingly embarrassing to be in their presence, so that he was shut out for good?

So his entire problem is “BUT WHAT ABOUT ME”?

A L S O! You did not try to “bridge the distance between them”, you utter narcissistic moron. That was Hermione, in Book Four. AND FURTHERMORE! Ron had exceedingly good reasons not to be talking to Hermione back then.

. . . Ron and Hermione did not seem any different except that they were a little politer to each other than usual.

True love all around. Tremendously good examples for impressionable kids.

Harry supposed he would just have to wait to see what happened under the influence of Butterbeer in Slughorn’s dimly lit room on the night of the party.

“The influence of Butterbeer”.

Because that thing certainly has lots and lots of alcohol in it. Ha ha, I can’t. I’m going to bed.

Well, I went to bed and now it’s evening again and I feel so tired and unfocused that I kind of don’t want to do this. But on the other hand, it’s been almost a month since I last read this dumb book.

Katie Bell was still in St Mungo’s Hospital with no prospect of leaving, which meant that the promising Gryffindor team Harry had been training so carefully since September was one Chaser short. He kept putting off replacing Katie in the hope that she would return, but their opening match against Slytherin was looming and he finally had to accept that she would not be back in time to play.

You know, Harry, I have a fantastic solution to that. RESERVE PLAYERS. You absolute moron.

Most of the class had already left, although several twittering yellow birds were still zooming around the room, all of Hermione’s creation; nobody else had succeeded in conjuring so much as a feather from thin air.

Okay, so wait. I can’t be bothered to look up if this was a canon thing or just fanon, but you can’t, like, conjure food out of thin air, right? So why would you be able to conjure living beings from thin air?

On the other hand, he had to do what was best for the team, and Dean had out-flown Seamus at the tryouts.

You know, it’s really been too long since I’ve last read this book because I have no memory whatsoever of this. All I remember is the utter stupidity of the tryouts, but the individual details? Gone, totally gone.

He sprinted out of the room, leaving Harry and Seamus alone together, an uncomfortable moment made no easier when a bird dropping landed on Seamus’s head as one of Hermione’s canaries whizzed over them.

To be honest, I just really don’t understand why most of the internet got so offended when Rowling said that these morons used to shit their pants and magick away the evidence. Like, since Book One Rowling has had a thing for faeces, farts and snot?

Here’s some fun homework for you: read one of these books and then a children’s book from the 19th or early 20th century. Contrast and compare.

. . . the pressure was increasing to provide a win in the upcoming match against Slytherin.

You have lost one match in the entirety of six books. One. And even that wasn’t the team’s fault. It was the fault of extenuating circumstances because, gods forbid, it’s not like Rowling’s darling pets can be bad.

Harry had known all along that Ron was an inconsistent player who suffered from nerves and a lack of confidence, and unfortunately, the looming prospect of the opening game of the season seemed to have brought out all his old insecurities.

Didn’t we already deal with this in Book Six? Must we have a repeat performance? Like, seriously?

After letting in half a dozen goals, most of them scored by Ginny, his technique became wilder and wilder, until he finally punched an oncoming Demelza Robins in the mouth.

How did that happen considering that they’re flying and they’re supposed to be throwing the ball? I mean, aside from players deliberately flying into each other, quidditch isn’t supposed to be a close-contact sport?

‘I can fix that,’ said Harry, landing beside the two girls, pointing his wand at Demelza’s mouth and saying ‘ Episkey’.

Is this Harry’s nineteenth spell?

Why, yes it is. *world’s most unenthusiastic applause*

‘And Ginny, don’t call Ron a prat, you’re not the captain of this team –’

‘Well, you seemed too busy to call him a prat and I thought someone should –’

Harry forced himself not to laugh.

True love.

And you know who has a similar personality? You guessed it! Draco.

But then again, all of these characters are the same so I don’t know if it actually says anything.

‘Right,’ said Ginny, tossing her long red hair out of her face and glaring at Ron, ‘let’s get this straight once and for all. It is none of your business who I go out with or what I do with them, Ron –’

Can I count this fight as Ron/Ginny proofs? I mean, I can twist it that way but… It’s probably just because it’s been weeks since I last read this book and I’m feeling tired right now. But I just feel really unenthusiastic.

‘Yeah, it is!’ said Ron, just as angrily. ‘D’you think I want people saying my sister’s a –’

‘A what?’ shouted Ginny, drawing her wand. ‘A what, exactly?’

‘He doesn’t mean anything, Ginny –’ said Harry automatically, though the monster was roaring its approval of Ron’s words.

‘Oh yes he does!’ she said, flaring up at Harry. ‘Just because he’s never snogged anyone in his life, just because the best kiss he’s ever had is from our Auntie Muriel –’

Okay, I just really don’t care about this scene but:

One) Ginny is very upset that her brother implied she’s promiscuous.

Two) As a wise man once said: all criticism is either right or wrong. It shouldn’t bother you either way and it’s better to use it for motivation instead of crying about it.

Three) Ron’s right. No one wants to see people eating each other’s faces in public whether they have experience or not.

Four) While Ron shouldn’t have implied that Ginny is a kiss-slut(?) Ginny shouldn’t be yelling at him about his lack of “sexual prowess” either because there’s nothing wrong with having no experience.

They hurried up the stairs and along a seventh-floor corridor. ‘Oi, out of the way!’ Ron barked at a small girl who jumped in fright and dropped a bottle of toad-spawn.

Isn’t it wonderful that it’s only Draco who bullies younger kids?

Harry hardly noticed the sound of shattering glass; he felt disorientated, dizzy; being struck by a lightning bolt must be something like this. It’s just because she’s Ron’s sister, he told himself. You just didn’t like seeing her kissing Dean because she’s Ron’s sister …

You know, Harry, that’s dumb and weird.

But unbidden into his mind came an image of that same deserted corridor with himself kissing Ginny instead … the monster in his chest purred …

“The monster in his chest purred”.

I could’ve gone my whole life without reading those words and I would’ve been happy.

You know! Just to make this infinitely funny for me: this chest monster is that fragment of Tommy’s soul. I mean, he probably has a bit of a thing for Ginny, what with Book Two shenanigans.

‘D’you think Hermione did snog Krum?’ Ron asked abruptly, as they approached the Fat Lady.

The honest answer was ‘yes’, but he did not want to give it.

Why does Harry think that Hermione snogged Viktor? I mean, she wasn’t even interested in him?

Harry lay awake for a long time, looking up at the canopy of his four-poster and trying to convince himself that his feelings for Ginny were entirely older-brotherly. They had lived, had they not, like brother and sister all summer, playing Quidditch, teasing Ron and having a laugh about Bill and Phlegm? He had known Ginny for years now … it was natural that he should feel protective … natural that he should want to look out for her … want to rip Dean limb from limb for kissing her … no … he would have to control that particular brotherly feeling …

As someone who actually ships sibling ships (Sam/Dean! and Ron/Ginny, sort of), please, Harry. Stop being so weird and creepy.

He would not risk his friendship with Ron for anything.

Oh, really?

. . . Ron stalked off to the boys’ dormitory after swearing angrily at several frightened first-years for looking at him.

But it’s just Draco who bullies first-years even though we’ve never actually seen this.

You know, what do you even call this? In which Rowling projects all of her darling pets’ failings onto another character?

Harry lay awake for a very long time in the darkness. He did not want to lose the upcoming match; not only was it his first as Captain, but he was determined to beat Draco Malfoy at Quidditch even if he could not yet prove his suspicions about him.

YOU HAVE LOST ONE MATCH. AGAINST HUFFLEPUFFS. I DO NOT CARE ABOUT THIS QUIDDITCH DRAMA.

Speaking of good sports, I should read Haikyu!! I finally got myself all the volumes too! Hee, my precious Kageyama. ♡

(I have very particular tastes with characters.)

If only there was something he could do to make Ron pull himself together … make him play at the top of his form … something that would ensure that Ron had a really good day …

And the answer came to Harry in one, sudden, glorious stroke of inspiration.

Cheating and placebo because why should these characters earn anything with hard work!

Ha ha, these are the worst childern’s books ever. It’s unbelievable.

‘Cheer up, Ron!’ called Lavender. ‘I know you’ll be brilliant!’

She’s so cute.

‘You heard me. I saw you. You just tipped something into Ron’s drink. You’ve got the bottle in your hand right now!’

She looked scandalised. Bending low so that only Harry could hear her she hissed, ‘You should be expelled for that. I’d never have believed it of you, Harry!’

You know… What does it matter even if Harry had spiked Ron’s drink with Felix Felicis? I mean, these quidditch matches? Aren’t official or professional. They cheat all the time. Hell, the adults cheat in official and professional quidditch matches. And it’s not like they even have scouts checking these games out so… who cares?

As far as I know, they aren’t even getting any school credit for these games?

Besides, if Harry isn’t going to be expelled for attacking muggles or almost murdering a fellow student then he sure as hell isn’t going to be expelled for cheating in quidditch.

Is it really too much to ask for to have good, consistent stories? Is it? Like, you complain about these things to the general audience who really just… don’t think anything at all when consuming something and the most popular response is “just turn off your brain”. And it’s like, I like my brain. You could say I’m fairly attached to it. I should not have to lower my standards just because some or many people don’t like using their brains for anything.

Besides, forget about standards, what people need first is some self-respect. Because there are stories that don’t take themselves too seriously (basically my stories I’d say) and then there are stories that presume their general audience is braindead morons.

Your ancestors did not evolve millions of years just for you to live like livestock.

‘Conditions look ideal,’ said Ginny, ignoring Ron. ‘And guess what? That Slytherin Chaser Vaisey – he took a Bludger in the head yesterday during their practice, and he’s too sore to play! And even better than that – Malfoy’s gone off sick too!’

I know Draco is sort of working for Tommy under duress but at least one of these characters is taking something seriously.

‘No idea, but it’s great for us,’ said Ginny brightly. ‘They’re playing Harper instead; he’s in my year and he’s an idiot.’

Well, evidently Slytherins as a whole are smarter than Gryffindors because Slytherins actually have reserve players.

Malfoy had once before claimed he could not play due to injury, but on that occasion he had made sure the whole match was rescheduled for a time that suited the Slytherins better.

Hee! ♡♡♡♡ He’s a precious dork who deserves all the good things in the world.

‘Lucky, I call it,’ said Ron, looking slightly more animated. ‘And Vaisey off too, he’s their best goal-scorer, I didn’t fancy – hey!’ he said suddenly, freezing halfway through pulling on his Keeper’s gloves and staring at Harry.

You know, Ron, even if Harry did spike your drink with Felix Felicis, I really don’t think it would affect something that would’ve happened hours, days, weeks before the match?

Like, it’s not like Draco or Vaisey dropped off right after you drank the pumpkin juice?

It’s a good thing that these characters are morons.

‘Captains, shake hands,’ she said, and Harry had his hand crushed by the new Slytherin Captain, Urquhart. ‘Mount your brooms. On the whistle … three … two … one …’

Urquhart! That sounds interesting.

Also, of course Rowling couldn’t possibly make Draco the team captain. So predictable, that woman.

‘Well, there they go, and I think we’re all surprised to see the team that Potter’s put together this year. Many thought, given Ronald Weasley’s patchy performance as Keeper last year, that he might be off the team, but of course, a close personal friendship with the Captain does help …’

Harry craned round on his broom to look towards the commentator’s podium. A tall, skinny blond boy with an upturned nose was standing there, talking into the magical megaphone that had once been Lee Jordan’s; Harry recognised Zacharias Smith, a Hufflepuff player whom he heartily disliked.

‘Oh, and here comes Slytherin’s first attempt on goal, it’s Urquhart streaking down the pitch and –’

‘– Weasley saves it, well, he’s bound to get lucky sometimes, I suppose …’

ZACHARIAS WAS TOO GOOD FOR THESE BOOKS. And then the fandom totally sullied him by having him have a crush on Harry. Because dear gods, no one is allowed to have good taste in these books.

Also! Urquhart is apparently a chaser too?

With half an hour of the game gone, Gryffindor were leading sixty points to zero . . .

You know, I just can’t even be arsed. Like, this woman writes the most petty-minded juvenile nonsense in the world and I just can’t.

By the way, why is Zacharias the commentator? He’s in the Hufflepuff quidditch team? How is he going to commentate that?

He was actually smiling now, and when the crowd greeted a particularly good save with a rousing chorus of the old favourite Weasley is our King, he pretended to conduct them from on high.

As much as I generally like Ron, don’t sully Draco’s song.

But next moment, his stomach seemed to drop out of the sky – Smith was right and Harry was wrong . . .

And it’s not even the first time Harry is wrong about something! It’s a consistent thing with him.

He did not know what made him say it, but Harper did a double take; he fumbled the Snitch, let it slip through his fingers and shot right past it: Harry made a great swipe for the tiny, fluttering ball and caught it.

Yay. *monotone*

‘Ginny, where’re you going?’ yelled Harry, who had found himself trapped in the midst of a mass midair hug with the rest of the team, but Ginny sped right on past them until, with an almighty crash, she collided with the commentator’s podium. As the crowd shrieked and laughed, the Gryffindor team landed beside the wreckage of wood under which Zacharias was feebly stirring; Harry heard Ginny saying blithely to an irate Professor McGonagall, ‘Forgot to brake, Professor, sorry.’

Ah ha ha ha. Again, bodily violence for words. I really hope Rowling enjoys the monster she helped create.

‘There really wasn’t anything in my pumpkin juice?’ Ron said, astounded. ‘But the weather’s good … and Vaisey couldn’t play … I honestly haven’t been given lucky potion?’

Those things happened BEFORE you thought you got a shot of luck.

Why must these characters be so stupid?

He did not see how he could possibly explain to Hermione that what she had done to offend Ron was kiss Viktor Krum, not when the offence had occurred so long ago.

Well, you could explain so Hermione will know what’s the burr up Ron’s butt and then she can go smack him over the head and kiss him.

Or, you know, you could do nothing like always. That evidently works tremendously well too.

‘Looking for Ron?’ she asked, smirking. ‘He’s over there, the filthy hypocrite.’

Harry looked into the corner she was indicating. There, in full view of the whole room, stood Ron wrapped so closely around Lavender Brown it was hard to tell whose hands were whose.

‘It looks like he’s eating her face, doesn’t it?’ said Ginny dispassionately. ‘But I suppose he’s got to refine his technique somehow. Good game, Harry.’

Ron/Ginny proofs or not?

I mean, it’s not like there was a reason to add that “dispassionately” to that sentence, right?

She patted him on the arm; Harry felt a swooping sensation in his stomach . . .

Harry, please. I know you’re a teenage boy but an arm pat out of wedlock? Really?

He found her in the first unlocked classroom he tried. She was sitting on the teacher’s desk, alone except for a small ring of twittering yellow birds circling her head, which she had clearly just conjured out of midair. Harry could not help admiring her spellwork at a time like this.

I really don’t recall Harry ever admiring Hermione’s spellwork so can we not?

‘Yeah … they’re – er – really good …’ said Harry.

Ringing endorsement if there ever was one.

The door behind them burst open. To Harry’s horror, Ron came in, laughing, pulling Lavender by the hand.

‘Oh,’ he said, drawing up short at the sight of Harry and Hermione.

‘Oops!’ said Lavender, and she backed out of the room, giggling. The door swung shut behind her.

This entire sequence? Just why?

‘Oppugno!’ came a shriek from the doorway.

Harry spun round to see Hermione pointing her wand at Ron, her expression wild: the little flock of birds was speeding like a hail of fat golden bullets towards Ron, who yelped and covered his face with his hands, but the birds attacked, pecking and clawing at every bit of flesh they could reach.

Physical violence. I can just feel the true love.

Well, at least this chapter is over.

Harry’s spell count so far: nineteen.

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

Chapter Thirteen – The Secret Riddle

Ah ha ha ha. How clever.

Anyhow~ I was thinking about things as I’m wont to do and I was pondering if the Hogwarts schedule is sustainable.

You see, there are 7 core subjects and 5 electives. One of these core subjects is flying and, as far as I know, they only had one lesson on this in the 1st grade so we can leave it out. We can also leave Astronomy out since that subject is only held at night. That makes it 5 core subjects and 5 electives. There are also some 6th and 7th grade electives and clubs, but we’ll leave these out for simplicity’s sake.

Each of these subjects is taught only by one teacher. There are no substitutes or extras at this school. There are 4 houses. Each house has 7 grades which make it 28 grades overall. Since the 6th and 7th grades are apparently mixed, we can lower this to 22 grades. The joint classes that we know of are Potions (Gryffindors and Slytherins, class 1991), Herbology (Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, class 1991 and presumably Ravenclaws and Gryffindors, class 1992), Muggle Studies (Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, class 1991) and Care of Magical Creatures (Slytherins and Gryffindors, class 1991).

According to the Harry Potter Lexicon, the classes start at 9 am. They have two morning classes then a break, lunch and another break. The classes resume at 1 pm and apparently it’s not clear if they have 1 or 2 classes in the afternoon.

Do these morons seriously have only 4 hours per day? Yeah, sure, their school lives are so busy. *massive eye roll*

So, that’s 22 grades per 1 teacher and twenty overall hours in a week. The student-teacher ratio is about 210:1 but as I understood it, this ratio is supposed to be per class, not the overall number. Per class it’s just about 7,5:1.

I tried to make a visual representation of this via a timetable for the teachers. This timetable didn’t take into account double classes, which Rowling sometimes alludes to, or other joint classes for non-Gryffindors or indeed joint classes for Gryffindors other than Harry’s year.

As an aside, it’s totally possible I messed something up while making this timetable because I had a hard time finding a good format. Also, it’s so messy it gives me a headache just looking at it.

But the simple answer is: yes, Hogwarts timetable is sustainable. But also no. You either need at least two more hours per day or more joint classes so that every grade gets taught. And again, this is discounting double classes or indeed more than one hour per subject per week, and the 6th and 7th grade electives and clubs.

And yet again, I have managed to put more thought into these books than Rowling ever did. The world building in these books is utterly broken.

I mean, you know why this is? Because nothing exists outside of Harry’s immediate vicinity. This is why the world building is such a mess.

‘Professor Snape knows much more about the Dark Arts than Madam Pomfrey, Harry.’

So a dabbler of dark arts knows more about how to undo dark arts than a professional healer? It’s not like a professional sharpshooter innately knows more about how to treat gunshot wounds than a medic?

‘Anyway, the St Mungo’s staff are sending me hourly reports and I am hopeful that Katie will make a full recovery in time.’

Aren’t hourly reports a little excessive?

‘I shall take all appropriate measures to investigate anyone who might have had a hand in Katie’s accident,’ said Dumbledore.

Just like in all the previous books in which you were mightily investigative? Uh-huh.

‘You will remember, I am sure, that we left the tale of Lord Voldemort’s beginnings at the point where the handsome Muggle, Tom Riddle, had abandoned his witch wife, Merope, and returned to his family home in Little Hangleton. Merope was left alone in London, expecting the baby who would one day become Lord Voldemort.’

YOU CAN’T ABANDON YOUR RAPIST.

GET IT TOGETHER, BOOK.

Also, no one cares about Tommy’s backstory.

. . . Dumbledore poured the fresh memories into the Pensieve, and began swirling the stone basin once more between his long-fingered hands.

He swilled the contents of the Pensieve as Harry had seen him swill them before, much as a gold prospector sifts for gold. Up out of the swirling, silvery mass rose a little old man, revolving slowly in the Pensieve, silver as a ghost but much more solid, with a thatch of hair that completely covered his eyes.

?

So that’s how they do it? I don’t know, I just made them use their wands.

‘He only gave her ten Galleons?’ said Harry indignantly.

Is that really important? Is it? Is it?

‘So we know that, near the end of her pregnancy, Merope was alone in London and in desperate need of gold, desperate enough to sell her one and only valuable possession, the locket that was one of Marvolo’s treasured family heirlooms.’

Like… who cares? No, seriously? Why should I care? She caused this particular misfortune herself so why should I care?

‘Ah,’ said Dumbledore, ‘perhaps she could. But it is my belief – I am guessing again, but I am sure I am right – that when her husband abandoned her, Merope stopped using magic. I do not think that she wanted to be a witch any longer. Of course, it is also possible that her unrequited love and the attendant despair sapped her of her powers; that can happen. In any case, as you are about to see, Merope refused to raise her wand even to save her own life.’

I reiterate: you can’t abandon your rapist. Merope was a rapist. She was raping Tom Sr with the love potion.

You —

Okay, deep breaths. Mind over matter.

Like, imagine if the characters’ sexes were reversed. If Merope was a man using a love potion on a helpless muggle woman, for years, and then gets her pregnant and all this moron talks about is how “he thought she’d stay for the baby’s sake” and “she abandoned him”.

LIKE! DO I NEED TO DO THIS? JUST TO ACTUALLY SHOW PEOPLE HOW CREEPY AND WRONG THIS IS?

Is this seriously a part of wizarding mating rituals? A little bit of female-on-male rape? Because Molly was giggling about drugging some poor sap with a love potion too.

‘She wouldn’t even stay alive for her son?’

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.

‘Could you possibly be feeling sorry for Lord Voldemort?’

The real pertinent question is: would it have made a difference? Because by all accounts, Merope herself wasn’t exactly a stable individual.

‘Your mother had a choice, too,’ said Dumbledore gently. ‘Yes, Merope Riddle chose death in spite of a son who needed her, but do not judge her too harshly, Harry. She was greatly weakened by long suffering and she never had your mother’s courage.’

I will judge whoever I want, however I want.

‘This time,’ said Dumbledore, ‘we are going to enter my memory. I think you will find it both rich in detail and satisfyingly accurate.’

So it’s a complete lie then?

You know what, I can’t do this. I need a break.

*about two days later*

I have become so absolutely lazy with everything.

‘There I am,’ said Dumbledore brightly, pointing ahead of them to a tall figure crossing the road in front of a horse-drawn milk cart.

Did you know these milk deliveries were also called milk floats? Which sounds about the cutest thing ever.

But seriously, horse-drawn milk cart? When was Tommy born? 31 December 1926. So he started Hogwarts at twelve. So it’s about 1937 here? Well, apparently these were still used until the 1950s so… whatever?

This younger Albus Dumbledore’s long hair and beard were auburn. Having reached their side of the street, he strode off along the pavement, drawing many curious glances due to the flamboyantly cut suit of plum velvet that he was wearing.

Flamboyantly cut? What does that even mean?

Also, please tell me that people didn’t seriously “totally catch on” that he’s a homosexual because he was wearing purple? Because, you know, clothes aren’t an indication of sexuality, it’s attraction.

‘Nice suit, sir,’ said Harry, before he could stop himself . . .

*raises eyebrows*

Like you’d know anything about good clothes?

‘I am here, as I told you in my letter, to discuss Tom Riddle and arrangements for his future,’ said Dumbledore.

Is this normal procedure with orphaned muggleborn or wizarding kids? Or is this just a Tommy-specific kind of thing?

There was no doubt that Mrs Cole was an inconveniently sharp woman. Apparently Dumbledore thought so too, for Harry now saw him slip his wand out of the pocket of his velvet suit, at the same time picking up a piece of perfectly blank paper from Mrs Cole’s desktop.

‘Here,’ said Dumbledore, waving his wand once as he passed her the piece of paper, ‘I think this will make everything clear.’

Mrs Cole’s eyes slid out of focus and back again as she gazed intently at the blank paper for a moment.

‘That seems perfectly in order,’ she said placidly, handing it back. Then her eyes fell upon a bottle of gin and two glasses that had certainly not been present a few seconds before.

Oh, okay. It’s starting to become normal wizarding procedure with muggles.

‘Er – may I offer you a glass of gin?’ she said in an extra-refined voice.

‘Thank you very much,’ said Dumbledore, beaming.

….

You know, I’m gonna kill this character off like you wouldn’t even believe.

‘. . . and then she told me he was to be named Tom, for his father, and Marvolo, for her father – yes, I know, funny name, isn’t it?’

Well, Marvolo still makes me think of a pack of cigarettes so…

‘He was a funny baby, too. He hardly ever cried, you know. And then, when he got a little older, he was … odd.’

‘Billy Stubbs’s rabbit … well, Tom said he didn’t do it and I don’t see how he could have done, but even so, it didn’t hang itself from the rafters, did it?’

‘But I’m jiggered if I know how he got up there to do it. All I know is he and Billy had argued the day before. And then –’ Mrs Cole took another swig of gin, slopping a little over her chin this time, ‘on the summer outing – we take them out, you know, once a year, to the countryside or to the seaside – well, Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop were never quite right afterwards, and all we ever got out of them was that they’d gone into a cave with Tom Riddle. He swore they’d just gone exploring, but something happened in there, I’m sure of it. And, well, there have been a lot of things, funny things …’

You know… maybe it’s because I find Tommy utterly pathetic as a character but Tale of the Nine Tailed did this whole creepy evil magical snake child thing a lot better. It was actually pitiful and creepy.

Spoilers! So, the Imoogi was born as a human boy with physical deformities. His dad wanted to get rid of him so he was sealed in a cave that was used to dispose of plague victims. They devoured him and he transformed into a white snake. And since then he’s wanted to ascend to godhood.

Oh, and as an aside, I suspect Tommy’s little bullying is usual among muggleborn children. And by that I mean that we already know that wizards are like psychopathic children and muggles must all feel like that little bunny to muggleborn wizards.

‘All sorts,’ breathed Riddle. A flush of excitement was rising up his neck into his hollow cheeks; he looked fevered. ‘I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to.’

And, like, this doesn’t differ at all from regular wizards’ behaviour. I mean, ha ha ha ha, they have classes in which they use animals. To do spells.

A teacher turned a student — a scared child — into an animal and proceeded to smack him over the walls and floors, much to the laughter of onlookers, and he wasn’t fired on the spot.

So… why am I supposed to look at Tommy’s little confession and think: “Oh, he was bad from the start”? He’s not. He’s acting like any other wizard in these books. He’s acting exactly like Dumbles from four pages ago.

I’m just…

Yeah. Yeah, there’s a reason why I would rather procrastinate for two weeks than read these.

‘I knew I was different,’ he whispered to his own quivering fingers. ‘I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something.’

‘Well, you were quite right,’ said Dumbledore, who was no longer smiling, but watching Riddle intently. ‘You are a wizard.’

And, you know, how does this differ from Harry’s first reaction to hearing that he’s a wizard? First he denies it because if he was a wizard, he should’ve been able to hurt his muggle family.

A wizard? Him? How could he possibly be? He’d spent his life being clouted by Dudley and bullied by Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon; if he was really a wizard, why hadn’t they been turned into warty toads every time they’d tried to lock him in his cupboard? If he’d once defeated the greatest sorcerer in the world, how come Dudley had always been able to kick him around like a football?

And then he accepts that he’s a wizard when he realises that he did, indeed, inadvertently get back at Dudley in particular.

Harry looked into the fire. Now he came to think about it … every odd thing that had ever made his aunt and uncle furious with him had happened when he, Harry, had been upset or angry … chased by Dudley’s gang, he had somehow found himself out of their reach … dreading going to school with that ridiculous haircut, he’d managed to make it grow back … and the very last time Dudley had hit him, hadn’t he got his revenge, without even realising he was doing it? Hadn’t he set a boa constrictor on him?

The only difference is that Harry has almost no agency, intelligence or skills and Rowling is a hack.

Harry was sure that Dumbledore was going to refuse, that he would tell Riddle there would be plenty of time for practical demonstrations at Hogwarts, that they were currently in a building full of Muggles, and must therefore be cautious. To his great surprise, however, Dumbledore drew his wand from an inside pocket of his suit jacket, pointed it at the shabby wardrobe in the corner and gave the wand a casual flick.

It’s so cute how Harry thinks he knows Dumbles.

‘You will return them to their owners with your apologies,’ said Dumbledore calmly, putting his wand back into his jacket. ‘I shall know whether it has been done. And be warned: thieving is not tolerated at Hogwarts.’

Unlike rampant bullying, gross neglect and child abuse and negligible murder attempts. Hogwarts has standards after all.

‘At Hogwarts,’ Dumbledore went on, ‘we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have – inadvertently, I am sure – been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school. You are not the first, nor will you be the last, to allow your magic to run away with you. But you should know that Hogwarts can expel students, and the Ministry of Magic – yes, there is a Ministry – will punish lawbreakers still more severely. All new wizards must accept that, in entering our world, they abide by our laws.’

I would be more inclined to believe this — if Rowling hadn’t just spent the past five and a half books undermining every single point in Dumbles’ litany.

Harry thought that Dumbledore would insist upon accompanying Riddle, but once again he was surprised. Dumbledore handed Riddle the envelope containing his list of equipment, and, after telling Riddle exactly how to get to the Leaky Cauldron from the orphanage, he said, ‘You will be able to see it, although Muggles around you – non-magical people, that is – will not. Ask for Tom the barman – easy enough to remember, as he shares your name –’

HARRY, YOU DO NOT KNOW DUMBLES. AT ALL.

He’s just a creep grooming and using you.

‘All the details are on the second piece of parchment in your envelope,’ said Dumbledore.

Oh, so they do give muggleborn kids the details on how to get to Diagon Alley and the train? Did they just leave those out of Harry’s letter that Hagrid delivered personally to his hand?

‘He believed it much quicker than I did – I mean, when you told him he was a wizard,’ said Harry. ‘I didn’t believe Hagrid at first, when he told me.’

The only reason why you didn’t believe it immediately was because you hadn’t been able to exact your wrath and revenge on the Dursleys. Other than that, it took you exactly five paragraphs. Which probably took a minute.

So not that much of a difference, you brainless moron.

‘I trust that you also noticed that Tom Riddle was already highly self-sufficient, secretive and, apparently, friendless? He did not want help or companionship on his trip to Diagon Alley. He preferred to operate alone. The adult Voldemort is the same. You will hear many of his Death Eaters claiming that they are in his confidence, that they alone are close to him, even understand him. They are deluded. Lord Voldemort has never had a friend, nor do I believe that he has ever wanted one.

Okay?

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. . . .”

So what’s that ‘most intimate friends’ about then? I mean, ‘intimate’ kind of implies intimate as in ‘close’.

Okay, that’s as much as I can pay attention to and bear at the moment.

I don’t know, kid Tommy is slightly more interesting that an adult Tommy but… meh. Adult Tommy is such a loser that the bar isn’t very high.

Harry’s spell count so far: eighteen.

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

Chapter Twelve – Silver and Opals

There’s this writing exercise that “take a chapter from a book and then write from another character’s point of view”. I thought I’d try that with Harry Potter since I’m re-reading them, but then I read the latest chapter and it’s — nothing. Dead crickets. I haven’t even gotten chapter coda ideas in ages.

Also, in other news that probably interests no one, I recently read the abridged Beauty and the Beast by Jeanne-Marie Leprince de Beaumont. As you all know, Severus’ (mother’s) surname is Prince and Leprince just means “the prince”. So I figured I’ll give Severus’ French relatives because I can and I will.

Dumbledore had said that the lessons were leading to something to do with the prophecy; Harry had felt bolstered, comforted, and now he felt slightly abandoned.

Harry, Rowling has an entire school year to cover in these books. She can’t possibly have you do things during that time. It’ll mess up the schedule.

Halfway through October came their first trip of the term to Hogsmeade. Harry had wondered whether these trips would still be allowed, given the increasingly tight security measures around the school . . .

It’s so cute how he hasn’t learned a thing from the past five years.

The more Harry pored over the book, the more he realised how much was in there, not only the handy hints and short cuts on potions that were earning him such a glowing reputation with Slughorn, but also the imaginative little jinxes and hexes scribbled in the margins which Harry was sure, judging by the crossings-out and revisions, that the Prince had invented himself.

And? Like, why didn’t Severus do anything with these? Why are they lost and forgotten in some secondhand schoolbook?

Why do I even bother to ask?

. . . a jinx that glued the tongue to the roof of the mouth (which he had twice used, to general applause, on an unsuspecting Argus Filch) . . .

But it is a wonder why Argus hates these psychopathic little brats.

The only person who did not find these charms amusing was Hermione, who maintained a rigidly disapproving expression throughout and refused to talk at all if Harry had used the Muffliato spell on anyone in the vicinity.

A kind reminder: Hermione isn’t a genius. But she is a perfect little automaton for authoritarian propaganda.

On the other hand, the Prince had proved a much more effective teacher than Snape so far.

Ah ha ha ha… Irony.

Harry rather doubted he would be able to bring off this particular spell; he was still having difficulty with non-verbal spells, something Snape had been quick to comment on in every DADA class. On the other hand, the Prince had proved a much more effective teacher than Snape so far.

Pointing his wand at nothing in particular, he gave it an upward flick and said Levicorpus! inside his head.

‘Aaaaaaaargh!’

There was a flash of light and the room was full of voices: everyone had woken up as Ron had let out a yell. Harry sent Advanced Potion-Making flying in panic; Ron was dangling upside-down in midair as though an invisible hook had hoisted him up by the ankle.

So… non-verbal magic isn’t about anything but the construction of the spell?

Okay! That was one spread of this chapter. I’m sure I can take a break now.

More of Rowling’s schizophrenic hypocrisy incoming:

. . . Ron was dangling upside-down in midair as though an invisible hook had hoisted him up by the ankle.

‘Sorry!’ yelled Harry, as Dean and Seamus roared with laughter . . .

‘Sorry,’ repeated Harry weakly, while Dean and Seamus continued to roar with laughter.

By the time they had got dressed, padding themselves out with several of Mrs Weasley’s hand-knitted sweaters and carrying cloaks, scarves and gloves, Ron’s shock had subsided and he had decided that Harry’s new spell was highly amusing; so amusing, in fact, that he lost no time in regaling Hermione with the story as they sat down for breakfast.

‘It was a laugh!’ said Ron, up-ending a ketchup bottle over his sausages. ‘Just a laugh, Hermione, that’s all!’

‘Dangling people upside-down by the ankle?’ said Hermione. ‘Who puts their time and energy into making up spells like that?’

‘Fred and George,’ said Ron, shrugging, ‘it’s their kind of thing. And, er –’

Book Six.

James whirled about: a second flash of light later, Snape was hanging upside-down in the air, his robes falling over his head to reveal skinny, pallid legs and a pair of greying underpants.

Many people in the small crowd cheered; Sirius, James and Wormtail roared with laughter.

Lily, whose furious expression had twitched for an instant as though she was going to smile . . .

Book Five. Also, Lily is a cunt~.

High above them, floating along in mid-air, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. It was as though the masked wizards on the ground were puppeteers, and the people above them were marionettes operated by invisible strings that rose from the wands into the air. Two of the figures were very small.

More wizards were joining the marching group, laughing and pointing up at the floating bodies.

One of the marchers below flipped Mrs Roberts upside-down with his wand; her nightdress fell down to reveal voluminous drawers; she struggled to cover herself up as the crowd below her screeched and hooted with glee.

‘That’s sick,’ Ron muttered, watching the smallest Muggle child, who had begun to spin like a top, sixty feet above the ground, his head flopping limply from side to side. ‘That is really sick …’

Book Four.

How fast they forget~. But not I. To paraphrase Tommy: I’ll never forget nor forgive.

Here Rowling is, one and two books later, writing her “heroes” — with the most contemptuous quotes possible — acting exactly. like. death eaters. And I’m supposed to think absolutely nothing about it.

Okay! That was spread two. Another break.

Actually I’d like to revise my words: I’m supposed to think that now it’s funny because it’s Rowling’s “heroes” doing it.

‘Dangling people upside-down by the ankle?’ said Hermione. ‘Who puts their time and energy into making up spells like that?’

‘Fred and George,’ said Ron, shrugging, ‘it’s their kind of thing. And, er –’

‘That’s sick,’ Ron muttered . . . ‘That is really sick …’

Sure it is, Ron. Sure it is.

‘My dad,’ said Harry. He had only just remembered.

‘My dad used this spell,’ said Harry. ‘I – Lupin told me.’

How did James get this spell if it was invented by Severus?

This last part was not true; in fact, Harry had seen his father use the spell on Snape, but he had never told Ron and Hermione about that particular excursion into the Pensieve.

Harry does the bare minimum after he’s already violated someone else’s privacy. All hail Harry Potter!

‘Maybe your dad did use it, Harry,’ said Hermione, ‘but he’s not the only one. We’ve seen a whole bunch of people use it, in case you’ve forgotten. Dangling people in the air. Making them float along, asleep, helpless.’

Harry stared at her. With a sinking feeling he, too, remembered the behaviour of the Death Eaters at the Quidditch World Cup. Ron came to his aid.

‘That was different,’ he said robustly. ‘They were abusing it. Harry and his dad were just having a laugh.’

OKAY! That was a page and a half. I think it’s time for another break!

‘So you just decided to try out an unknown, handwritten incantation and see what would happen?’

‘I just think it’s very irresponsible to start performing spells when you don’t even know what they’re for . . .’

SHOULDN’T YOU ALL BE STUDYING LATIN? SO SPELLS SHOULDN’T BE “UNKNOWN” BECAUSE IF YOU KNOW LATIN YOU CAN APPROXIMATELY GUESS WHAT THE SPELL IS ABOUT? LIKE, IT’S LITERALLY IN THE NAME?

Also… why Latin? Why not ancient Greek while they’re at it?

You know what I’m going to do in that re-write — if I ever get that far? All wizards do their best spells when they’re doing them in their native languages.

I mean, there are wizarding schools in the United States, Brazil, Japan, Africa, France and somewhere in Eastern Europe (I know Rowling planted Durmstrang in Scandinavia but come on). Are all of those morons doing their spells in Latin? If not, why would the British do it either?

‘I don’t see where you get that from,’ said Harry heatedly, ‘if he’d been a budding Death Eater he wouldn’t have been boasting about being “Half-Blood”, would he?’

Tommy is a half-blood, Harry. All the budding death eaters are following around a mudblood.

You know what Hermione should bring up? That Harry doesn’t have the greatest track record of liking people, known or unknown. Because Harry is a vapid narcissistic moron.

Even as he said it, Harry remembered that his father had been pure-blood, but he pushed the thought out of his mind; he would worry about that later …

As I was saying.

‘The Death Eaters can’t all be pure-blood, there aren’t enough pure-blood wizards left,’ said Hermione stubbornly.

You know, this is actually — like, I don’t remember where I got this from but I think there are about 3 million wizards worldwide? And the thing is, according to Rowling’s totally stellar world building, only twelve of those are “pureblood” families. And that’s like, ha ha ha ha, they are literally dying of extinction and yet the narrative presents them as evil, bigoted and wrong.

LIKE, YOU TRY DYING OF EXTINCTION AND SEE HOW WELL YOU’RE DOING IT.

But anyhow, then there’s the whole “if we didn’t breed with muggles, we would’ve all been dead a long time ago,” when it’s, like, no, you unspeakable moron, if you breed with muggles, you’ll all be muggles.

Evidently! even if Rowling is tee hee hee so bad at math and basic heritability~ magic is an extremely recessive trait. Even in the Harry Potter world of no world building, the Muggles are still dominating the planet.

I want all of these characters dead, like you wouldn’t even believe.

‘Thanks, Ginny … it’s Dumbledore’s next lesson!’ Harry told Ron and Hermione, pulling open the parchment and quickly reading its contents. ‘Monday evening!’ He felt suddenly light and happy. ‘Want to join us in Hogsmeade, Ginny?’ he asked.

??

I don’t think he’s ever asked Ginny to join anything? Mostly he just tells her to go away in not so many words.

This strategy meant that Ron was not left out and they usually had a laugh with Ginny imagining Hermione shut up with McLaggen and Zabini.

??

Why would you laugh at your friend’s misery?

Harry had pinned Mundungus against the wall of the pub by the throat. Holding him fast with one hand, he pulled out his wand.

Aw, isn’t he so cooool?

. . . there were a couple of warlocks sitting close by who were staring at Harry with great interest . . .

IT WOULD BE NICE TO LEARN HOW WARLOCKS DIFFER FROM REGULAR WIZARDS ANY DAY NOW.

. . . Zabini was lolling against a pillar not far away.

Dude? There are seats?

‘Harry, I’d be annoyed too, I know it’s your things he’s stealing –’

Oh, sure, Miss “Boys Have the Emotional Range of a Teaspoon”, that’s exactly what’s got Harry so riled up.

This girl is so stupid.

‘Yeah, it’s my stuff!’ he said. ‘No wonder he wasn’t pleased to see me! Well, I’m going to tell Dumbledore what’s going on, he’s the only one who scares Mundungus.’

‘Nothing,’ said Ron, hastily looking away from the bar, but Harry knew he was trying to catch the eye of the curvy and attractive barmaid, Madam Rosmerta, for whom he had long nursed a soft spot.

How old is Rosmerta again? Because she was already barmaiding back when the previous Trio of Morons were going to school?

At once, Katie rose into the air, not as Ron had done, suspended comically by the ankle, but gracefully, her arms outstretched, as though she were about to fly. Yet there was something wrong, something eerie … her hair was whipped around her by the fierce wind, but her eyes were closed and her face was quite empty of expression.

Then, six feet above the ground, Katie let out a terrible scream. Her eyes flew open but whatever she could see, or whatever she was feeling, was clearly causing her terrible anguish.

Ha ha, so needlessly dramatic.

He began to sprint towards the school; he had never seen anyone behave as Katie had just done and could not think what had caused it . . .

How about a curse, you little wizarding student, you?

‘Get back!’ shouted Hagrid. ‘Lemme see her!’

Aaaand Harry got the help of someone who is not good at magic and got kicked out in his third year.

Ron bent down, his hand outstretched, but Harry seized his arm and pulled him back.

‘Don’t touch it!’

This Rowling really have to make Ron stupid just to prop up the other moron?

What am I asking, of course she did.

To be honest, I’m just not feeling it with this chapter. It’s boring.

‘Well, that’s why we were arguing. She came back from the bathroom in the Three Broomsticks holding it, said it was a surprise for somebody at Hogwarts and she had to deliver it. She looked all funny when she said it … oh no, oh no, I bet she’d been Imperiused, and I didn’t realise!’

‘No … she wouldn’t tell me … and I said she was being stupid and not to take it up to school . . .’

So, okay. In these books that are so much Darker and Maturer™ Draco’s brilliant plan is to imperius one of the students so that she’ll take a package with a cursed necklace up to Dumbles and thus have Dumbles incapacitated? During a time when they’re checking them at the entrance for dark objects?

…..like, so far Draco has actually had good plans if you disregard Rowling’s single-mindedness to make them fail through sheer authorial interference, but…..

Okay, I’ll just repeat this: Death and Murder™ do not inherently make anything more mature. It’s still a stupid, immature story with Death and Murder™.

(And before someone deliberately misunderstands that: I’m not saying that every story with death and murder is immature. Learn to Read.)

‘Malfoy knows about this necklace. It was in a case at Borgin and Burkes four years ago, I saw him having a good look at it while I was hiding from him and his dad.’

Oh. So that’s why Draco used the Necklace of Overdramatics. So that the Boy Who Failed and Kept Failing Till the End can pretend he’s thinking.

‘I think Draco Malfoy gave Katie that necklace, Professor.’

On one side of him, Ron rubbed his nose in apparent embarrassment; on the other, Hermione shuffled her feet as though quite keen to put a bit of distance between herself and Harry.

Oh my god with this contrived drama.

‘That is a very serious accusation, Potter,’ said Professor McGonagall, after a shocked pause. ‘Do you have any proof?’

When does the Boy Who Lived need proof?

‘– and in any case, we have put stringent security measures in place this year, I do not believe that necklace can possibly have entered this school without our knowledge –’

Uh-huh. Stringent security measures. At Hogwarts. Sure.

Also, the necklace didn’t actually enter the school? Oh no wait it did, and all that could’ve stopped its entrance was Argus and his “secrecy sensor”. Draco could’ve seriously just owled it to Dumbles’ window.

‘Goodness only knows,’ said Hermione. ‘But whoever it was has had a narrow escape. No one could have opened that package without touching the necklace.’

Contrary to popular belief, it’s actually really easy to open packages without touching what’s inside.

‘Harry, Malfoy wasn’t in Hogsmeade!’ said Hermione, actually stamping her foot in frustration.

SO MUCH DARKER AND MATURE.

‘It wasn’t a very slick attack, really, when you stop and think about it,’ said Ron, casually turfing a first-year out of one of the good armchairs by the fire, so that he could sit down.

‘Malfoy was being absolutely foul to a first-year back there. I swear I’m going to report him, he’s only had his badge three minutes and he’s using it to bully people worse than ever …’

Isn’t it wonderful that it’s only Draco bullying first years?

‘You’re right,’ said Hermione, prodding Ron out of the chair with her foot and offering it to the first-year again.

Oh, look. Miss “I Bully Them Too When I’m Stressed” is being nice. Will the wonders ever cease.

‘But since when has Malfoy been one of the world’s great thinkers?’ asked Harry.

Well, he actually is smarter than all the rest of the characters in these books. It’s just he’s cumbered by bad writing and Rowling.

So, you know, take that how you will.

Harry’s spell count so far: eighteen.

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

Chapter Eleven – Hermione’s Helping Hand

Harry Potters have never been about that “discrimination is bad”, not even nominally. Like, what books did people read?

And now I think of it, what are these books even about?¹

Also, I realised it’s again been about fifteen days since I last touched these books and I have no idea where all those days go.

As Hermione had predicted, the sixth-years’ free periods were not the hours of blissful relaxation Ron had anticipated, but times in which to attempt to keep up with the vast amount of homework they were being set. Not only were they studying as though they had exams every day, but the lessons themselves had become more demanding than ever before.

I’m just not buying this, at all. Like, these morons have fewer subjects than I had in middle school. And I still managed to do my homework (well, okay, five minutes before the start of class but that’s beside the point).

If Rowling actually wanted me to buy that these morons are totally living super busy super arduous school lives then she should’ve come up with more subjects than twelve “regular” subjects, so to speak. I don’t count the extracurricular activities because they aren’t doing them and I don’t count apparition and “advanced arithmancy studies” either. Like, by the time they hit sixth year it seems that all subjects are “advanced” but they still don’t call them “advanced potions” etc.

Never mind that they actually don’t! study those twelve regular subjects this year. Like, a lot of their subjects were dropped according to their grades which would logically mean that some of them, in fact, have fewer subjects than in first year. (And like, these kids aren’t actually repeating grades no matter what Rowling says because math is hard, tee hee hee~).

So since from what I remember that only Es and Os are acceptable grades (and Es not always, depending on the teacher) then Harry’s subjects this year would’ve been:

Astronomy
Care of Magical Creatures (dropped because he’s an enormous narcissistic arse)
Charms
Defence Against the Dark Arts
Divination
Herbology
History of Magic
Potions (almost didn’t get this if Severus had stayed as the teacher)
Transfiguration

New subjects he got this year:

Apparition (which does not get homework and from what I remember isn’t “regular”)

Which actually means that this moron has fewer subjects than he did in first year.

And they’re actually complaining. Oh my god with these overprivileged moronic twats.

My sentiments often when I read these books.

And again, I have, to my shame, put more thought into these books than Rowling ever did. And I’m still on the first paragraph of this chapter.

Gods have mercy.

Harry barely understood half of what Professor McGonagall said to them these days . . .

That’s just really not unusual, Harry. Or surprising.

Non-verbal spells were now expected, not only in Defence Against the Dark Arts, but in Charms and Transfiguration too.

You know, honestly — this is going to be an actual world building and plot point in my rewrite of these books. Not going to get into it here but, yeah. (I just really really hope that I manage to get over my writer’s block at least by the time I’ve finished this re-read, pretty please. I have still been doing those writing exercises even though I haven’t posted them all and I think I’m slowly maybe getting better! Now I just have to learn how to write a million words a day!)

It was a relief to get outside into the greenhouses; they were dealing with more dangerous plants than ever in Herbology, but at least they were still allowed to swear loudly if the Venomous Tentacula seized them unexpectedly from behind.

Teachers usually, for some reason, don’t like hearing their students swear.

One result of their enormous workload and the frantic hours of practising non-verbal spells was that Harry, Ron and Hermione had so far been unable to find time to go and visit Hagrid.

Oh, what a shame.

He had stopped coming to meals at the staff table, an ominous sign, and on the few occasions when they had passed him in the corridors or out in the grounds, he had mysteriously failed to notice them or hear their greetings.

Oh no, don’t tell me this totally fake exploitative friendship is going to end? The horror.

‘Anyway, explain what? How are we going to tell him we hated his stupid subject?’

‘We didn’t hate it!’ said Hermione.

‘Speak for yourself, I haven’t forgotten the Skrewts,’ said Ron darkly. ‘And I’m telling you now, we’ve had a narrow escape. You didn’t hear him going on about his gormless brother – we’d have been teaching Grawp how to tie his shoelaces if we’d stayed.’

Hermione is actually right for once but they still aren’t admitting the truth. They didn’t hate “Care of Magical Creatures”. What they hated, in fact, was Hagrid as the teacher but obviously they can’t admit that so what they’re saying is that they hated the “subject”.

Just…

I hate these books.

Like, I once read this interesting if outlandish essay that Harry Potters were written by multiple people in the Secret Services (if Rowling was just a poster girl for these books, I’d feel kind of bad. Like, at least she could’ve been the poster for better books?) as an ongoing effort by the elites to make the population into gormless cattle. It’s — a surprisingly plausible explanation, if you think about it. But anyhow, I suspect these books were actually a test to see how much cognitive dissonance you can induce in a person before something starts to ping in their minds and, judging by the average Harry Potter enjoyer, the answer is: a lot. Lots and lots of cognitive dissonance.

Because is it really possible to write such schizophrenically hypocritical tripe obliviously?

Like, whenever I read these books it just feels like I’m trapped in some parallel universe where these books unconvincingly tell me one thing while showing an entirely another thing, and they don’t acknowledge any of it.

Which really brings us back to the question: What are these books even about?² Because I assure you, they’re not even nominally about “discrimination bad”. There is not a single theme or problem that these books bring up without completely and thoroughly contradicting themselves within the next three pages.

People talk about Harry’s “Hero’s Journey” or whatever but Harry doesn’t change. Harry doesn’t change anything. All he does is die because Authority Said So! and let some failed old dude kill himself on him.

Best. Children’s. Books. Ever.

He, too, was missing Hagrid, although like Ron he thought that they were better off without Grawp in their lives.

You are better off without Hagrid in your lives. Without Hagrid, you wouldn’t have to deal with giant spiders, Skrewts or Grawps either.

‘Oh, come on, Harry,’ said Hermione, suddenly impatient. ‘It’s not Quidditch that’s popular, it’s you! You’ve never been more interesting and, frankly, you’ve never been more fanciable.’

Ron gagged on a large piece of kipper.

Can’t fault the kid. I would’ve gagged too.

As if Harry needs people to polish his knob more.

And you know, you know, for all that people like to think that “Ron is so toxic uwu~” because he (supposedly) isn’t appreciative enough of what a Girl Boss™ Hermione is, Ron actually deserves someone who likes and respects him. Someone who isn’t constantly thinking that he isn’t good enough or smart enough or just enough.

And this is why yours truly is going to write him together with his sister, ha ha.

‘And you’ve been through all that persecution from the Ministry when they were trying to make out you were unstable and a liar.’

Weeeell~ That wasn’t actually a lie.

‘And it doesn’t hurt that you’ve grown about a foot over the summer, either,’ Hermione finished, ignoring Ron.

About a foot… How much is that? Thirty centimetres. So what, he’s now 170 cm?

‘You can still see where those brains got hold of me in the Ministry, look,’ said Ron, shaking back his sleeves.

‘I’m tall,’ said Ron inconsequentially.

You know, this is just — really not funny or cute. It’s sad.

Harry had received no mail since the start of term; his only regular correspondent was now dead and although he had hoped that Lupin might write occasionally, he had so far been disappointed.

Why on earth would Lupin suddenly start writing to you? You’re not close? At all?

He was very surprised, therefore, to see the snowy-white Hedwig circling amongst all the brown and grey owls.

Aw, of course Harry has the only white owl in the building.

‘Oh good,’ said Hermione, delighted. ‘Now you can give that graffitied copy back.’

She really is hideously stupid.

He pulled the old copy of Advanced Potion-Making out of his bag and tapped the cover with his wand, muttering, ‘Diffindo!’ The cover fell off. He did the same thing with the brand new book (Hermione looked scandalised). He then swapped the covers, tapped each and said, ‘Reparo!’

There sat the Prince’s copy, disguised as a new book, and there sat the fresh copy from Flourish and Blotts, looking thoroughly second-hand.

Okay? I mean, couldn’t he just keep using the old book if he wanted to? Who was going to stop him or why?

Or what, aren’t these kids just not allowed to use second-hand books? Oh wait, no, the Weasleys get their everything second-hand, don’t they?

‘I’ll give Slughorn back the new one. He can’t complain, it cost nine Galleons.’

Why do you need to give it back? Like, why can’t you give it back at the end of the year? What’s Slughorn going to do with it?

‘Anyone we know dead?’ asked Ron in a determinedly casual voice; he posed the same question every time Hermione opened her paper.

Oh I wish — I mean, when’s the last time any of these morons have died? And Sirius doesn’t count. He’s just one person.

‘He might have been put under the Imperius Curse,’ said Ron reasonably. ‘You never can tell.’

Spells?

Like, at least pretend that you all have magic?

‘Yeah, that’s him,’ said Harry. ‘I dunno what they’re playing at, taking Stan seriously.’

Just because you think that Stanley isn’t serious, it doesn’t mean he seriously isn’t a death eater. I mean, it’s not like they come with stamps on their forehead.

…..well, in Harry Potters they do because these are the greatest children’s books ever. *monotone*

‘What!’ said Ron, goggling at Hermione. ‘But Hogwarts is safer than their homes, bound to be! We’ve got Aurors, and all those extra protective spells, and we’ve got Dumbledore!’

Uh-huh. The past five books sure agree with that.

Now Harry came to think of it, he had not seen Dumbledore since their private lesson a week ago.

BUT THEY SURELY ARE VERY CLOSE.

‘I think he’s left the school to do something with the Order,’ said Hermione in a low voice. ‘I mean … it’s all looking serious, isn’t it?’

No, no it does not. I have not seen a single serious thing in these books. Well, except for that small matter of Dumbles grooming Harry to die.

There had been a horrible incident the day before, when Hannah Abbott had been taken out of Herbology to be told her mother had been found dead. They had not seen Hannah since.

Oh really? Funny how we didn’t actually see that.

Instead, what we’re seeing is the same regular old of these morons faffing about.

What did surprise him was that when Ron drew level with them, Parvati suddenly nudged Lavender, who looked round and gave Ron a wide smile. Ron blinked at her, then returned the smile uncertainly. His walk instantly became something more like a strut.

RON AND LAVENDER ARE ACTUALLY KIND OF CUTE.

Harry resisted the temptation to laugh, remembering that Ron had refrained from doing so after Malfoy had broken Harry’s nose . . .

And Harry is bafflingly disgusting.

Hermione, however, looked cold and distant all the way down to the stadium through the cool, misty drizzle, and departed to find a place in the stands without wishing Ron good luck.

Oh, it’s a wonder why Ron doesn’t catch on that she likes him, what with all the disrespect, belittling, disdain and cold shoulders. Gods, those boys are just so dumb! Why they can’t read a woman’s mind!

I mean, Hermione does realise that she can just as well tell Ron that she likes(?) him and ask him out?

‘We met on the train, in old Sluggy’s compartment,’ he said confidently, stepping out of the crowd to shake Harry’s hand. ‘Cormac McLaggen, Keeper.’

??

How is he a keeper if he’s never played?

Harry decided to start with a basic test, asking all applicants for the team to divide into groups of ten and fly once around the pitch. This was a good decision: the first ten was made up of first-years and it could not have been plainer that they had hardly ever flown before. Only one boy managed to remain airborne for more than a few seconds, and he was so surprised he promptly crashed into one of the goalposts.

You know, unlike our wunderfull Muggleborn Harry who never had to do a basic test and aced flying without ever having done it before?

Okay.

The second group comprised ten of the silliest girls Harry had ever encountered, who, when he blew his whistle, merely fell about giggling and clutching each other. Romilda Vane was amongst them. When he told them to leave the pitch they did so quite cheerfully and went to sit in the stands to heckle everyone else.

Is there, like, some kind of psychological block that prevents Rowling from writing the girls with any sort of dignity?

AND SERIOUSLY, PEOPLE, HARRY IS NOT ANY SORT OF A CATCH. He’s the sort of twat who forgets your birthday and then gets pissy if you forget this.

After two hours, many complaints and several tantrums, one involving a crashed Comet Two Sixty and several broken teeth . . .

Comet Two Sixty again, huh.

‘And I’m still riding a Comet Two Sixty,’ said Tonks enviously.

‘What did you say you’ve got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?’

Must’ve been popular.

Harry had found himself three Chasers: Katie Bell, returned to the team after an excellent trial . . .

What?

What?

What?

WHY DOES SHE NEED TO RETAKE A TRIAL IF SHE ALREADY IS A REGULAR PLAYER? THIS IS NOT HOW TEAMS WORK. THESE PEOPLE ARE MORONS. RESERVE PLAYERS ARE STILL A THING!!!!!!!

. . . and Ginny Weasley, who had outflown all the competition and scored seventeen goals to boot.

Oh gods, let me out of my misery.

Harry glanced over at Ron, who had always had a problem with nerves; Harry had hoped that winning their final match last term might have cured it, but apparently not: Ron was a delicate shade of green.

Ron does well when his “best friends” or brothers aren’t there.

Ron looked ready to pass out as he mounted his Cleansweep Eleven.

Like, seriously? Why is he trying out again when he’s already a part of the team? Like, the Slytherins! have reserve players! so what is this stupidity that the Gryffindors are doing? If someone applies who happens to be better than Ron, then sure, toss him out in the games and keep Ron in the reserve but at least they both get to practise and if Ron practises hard enough he might just be made regular again.

Just!

‘Good luck!’ cried a voice from the stands. Harry looked around, expecting to see Hermione, but it was Lavender Brown. He would have quite liked to have hidden his face in his hands, as she did a moment later, but thought that as the Captain he ought to show slightly more grit, and so turned to watch Ron do his trial.

She is really cute, honestly. I’m starting to feel partial towards Ron/Lavender.

‘His sister didn’t really try,’ said McLaggen menacingly. There was a vein pulsing in his temple like the one Harry had often admired in Uncle Vernon’s. ‘She gave him an easy save.’

‘Rubbish,’ said Harry coldly. ‘That was the one he nearly missed.’

MORE RON/GINNY PROOFS!

He thought for a moment that McLaggen might punch him, but he contented himself with an ugly grimace and stormed away, growling what sounded like threats to thin air.

I wish he had punched him. *sighs wistfully* I mean… *looks away*

‘I was better than that McLaggen anyway,’ said Ron in a highly satisfied voice. ‘Did you see him lumbering off in the wrong direction on his fifth? Looked like he’d been Confunded …’

To Harry’s surprise, Hermione turned a very deep shade of pink at these words. Ron noticed nothing; he was too busy describing each of his other penalties in loving detail.

Oh.

I see.

Well, I suppose I shouldn’t expect anything better because it’s not like Harry has earned anything either.

‘How are you?’ Harry asked him in a low voice, moving forwards to stroke the feathery head. ‘Missing him? But you’re OK here with Hagrid, aren’t you?’

Oh yeah, he was totally better off locked up in an attic.

‘Oh, very clever,’ growled Hagrid. ‘Very amusin’. That’s me outsmarted, innit? All righ’, come in then, yeh ungrateful little …’

Ungrateful? He’s ungrateful? How many times has the underage boy fixed your shit, Hagrid?

‘Oh dear,’ said Hermione nervously. ‘He’s still a bit scary, isn’t he?’

Hermione scurried in after Harry, looking rather frightened.

And for fuck’s sake with this girl too. Get off it.

‘What’s this? Feelin’ sorry for me? Reckon I’m lonely or summat?’

Your entire relationship depends on them feeling sorry for you.

. . . ‘we really wanted to carry on with Care of Magical Creatures, you know.’

‘We did!’ said Hermione. ‘But none of us could fit it into our timetables!’

Hermione, shut up.

‘They won’ grow inter nuthin’,’ said Hagrid. ‘I got ’em ter feed ter Aragog.’

And without warning, he burst into tears.

Can we just not with this moron either?

‘I don’ think there is, Hermione,’ choked Hagrid, attempting to stem the flood of his tears. ‘See, the rest o’ the tribe … Aragog’s family … they’re gettin’ a bit funny now he’s ill … bit restive …’

‘… I don’ reckon it’d be safe fer anyone but me ter go near the colony at the mo’,’ Hagrid finished, blowing his nose hard on his apron and looking up.

You know, I really feel compelled to write about the great giant spider wars that came about because of Hagrid’s utter stupidity. I mean, these spiders eat humans — not to mention that they are inbred. But anyhow, the average spider lays about 250 eggs in a sac. They can produce about 17 of these sacs. Which means that potentially a spider can produce more than 4000 eggs during a lifetime.

These spiders will spread. They will spread at the very least when there are too many of them and they start running out of territory and resources.

So what I’m saying is, fuck Hagrid.

‘Ar, I always knew yeh’d find it hard ter squeeze me inter yeh timetables,’ he said gruffly, pouring them more tea. ‘Even if yeh applied fer Time-Turners –’

Can we please stop pretending that these overprivileged morons have busy school lives?

‘We couldn’t have done,’ said Hermione. ‘We smashed the entire stock of Ministry Time-Turners when we were there in the summer. It was in the Daily Prophet.’

And they suffered absolutely no consequences for this.

‘Ar, well then,’ said Hagrid. ‘There’s no way yeh could’ve done it … I’m sorry I’ve bin – yeh know – I’ve jus’ bin worried abou’ Aragog … an’ I did wonder whether, if Professor Grubbly-Plank had bin teachin’ yeh –’

At which all three of them stated categorically and untruthfully that Professor Grubbly-Plank, who had substituted for Hagrid a few times, was a dreadful teacher, with the result that by the time Hagrid waved them off the premises at dusk, he looked quite cheerful.

And can we please — for the love of gods — stop coddling the unqualified sixty-year-old moron with nepotism and lies?

Instead, can we please think of the kids who actually wanted to study this subject but now can’t because Hagrid is a hideous teacher?

‘Oh, all right then, I did it,’ she whispered. ‘But you should have heard the way he was talking about Ron and Ginny!’

*raises eyebrows*

I want to know what he was saying about Ron and Ginny. (More Ron/Ginny proofs, please?)

‘Anyway, he’s got a nasty temper, you saw how he reacted when he didn’t get in – you wouldn’t have wanted someone like that on the team.’

Doesn’t she go out on a date with him anyway to make Ron jealous? Because vapid teenage drama, exactly what these books were missing. Instead of that little thing called plot.

‘No,’ said Harry. ‘No, I suppose that’s true. But wasn’t that dishonest, Hermione? I mean, you’re a prefect, aren’t you?’

Oh yes, because Hermione never does anything dishonest or illegal. *monotone*

Slughorn made Hermione a little bow as he finished speaking. It was as though Ron was not present; Slughorn did not so much as look at him.

The story of Ron’s life.

It’s not like Harry or Hermione think much of him either.

‘It just says he’s been to visit the Malfoys’ house. “This second search of the Death Eater’s residence does not seem to have yielded any results. Arthur Weasley of the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects said that his team had been acting upon a confidential tip-off.”’

Doesn’t this basically mean that the Death Eaters weren’t staying at the Malfoy Manor unlike what fan fics think?

‘Can you think of any way Malfoy –?’

‘Oh, drop it, Harry,’ said Ron.

I really wish he would talk like this to him more often.

‘No … from Professor Snape,’ said Demelza. Harry’s heart sank. ‘He says you’re to come to his office at half past eight tonight to do your detention – er – no matter how many party invitations you’ve received. And he wanted you to know you’ll be sorting out rotten Flobberworms from good ones, to use in Potions, and – and he says there’s no need to bring protective gloves.’

You know… I really am starting to adore Severus. ♡ That man has style.

Harry’s spell count so far: eighteen.

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

---

^{1, 2} Oh, now I remember what these books are about: they are about an old gay man systematically and deliberately grooming an underage boy to die. They are a manual on abuse.