I just noticed that Rowling made a boo boo

People seem shocked when I tell them that I am constantly in the process of reading a Harry Potter novel -- that there is not a day that goes by when I am not somewhere at the start, in the middle or nearing the end of one of the seven novels by J.K. Rowling.

I've lost count of how many times I've read them (though conservative estimates place the number at 25).

So how is that I missed this?

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. In the chapter entitled "Veritaserum". Page 594 of the Canadian first edition, published in 2000. Eighth line from the bottom.

Barty Crouch Jr. has already transformed back into himself after being stunned by Dumbledore and deprived of his next dose of Polyjuice Potion. The real Alastor "Mad Eye" Moody has been discovered in the bottom of his own magical chest and Barty Crouch Jr., under the influence of three drops of Veritaserum, is explaining everything to Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Harry and Winky, the house elf.

Crouch's transformation back into himself is complete and Rowling has been referring to him as "Crouch" for almost an entire page. Then Dumbledore asks him:

'How did your father subdue you?'

And, in the eighth last line of page 594, Rowling writes the response:

'The Imperius curse,' Moody said. 'I was under my father's control....'

"Moody said" is the tag. Not "Crouch said". "Moody said". Even though Crouch has fully transformed back into himself and Rowling has been referring to him as "Crouch" for more than a page, somehow "Moody" sneaks back in when it is clearly Crouch who is speaking.

How did I miss that error in all my 24 previous readings of the book? How did Rowling miss it in her original writing of the scene, in her numerous reviews and revisions? How did her editors miss it?

To be frank, I missed it because I am always, even after more than 20 readings, so caught up in the action at this point that I speed read the entire chapter. This is the first time I've been able to slow myself down enough to notice things... including continuity errors.

Wow. I'm sure a million other Harry Potter fans have spotted this error in the past but it's the first time I've seen it. It's like Harry Potter is new to me again... after 24 readings.

Decisions, descisions: what if Harry had failed at the second task?

J.K. Rowling writes suspense scenes very very well. Even after more than 20 readings, there are still sections of her books that I simply cannot force myself to read slowly. I get so caught up in the suspense, I just fly through the section.


One such passage is the part in The Goblet of Fire where Harry, Hermione and Ron rush to figure out a way for Harry to gain the ability to breathe under water for at least an hour for the second task of the TriWizard Tournament. As you will recall, the three work desperately together in the library for about a month, then, the day before the task, Hermione and Ron are called away and Harry continues to research, even as the final hours before the task fly past.


Finally, Dobby saves the day, first by waking Harry in the library ten minutes before the task is to begin and second by providing Harry with the magic plant gillyweed, that gives him gills.


After dashing through the section, however, and forcing myself to start to get ready for work, it occurred to me: what if J.K. had decided to let Harry fail on this task? Would it have made any difference at all to the outcome of the book?


As a writer of middling success, I am fascinated by the writing process of talented and successful authors. I am amazed at the number of decisions writers have to make with almost every paragraph of their books, decisions that will have a significant impact on the rest of the novel.


So we have Ms. Rowling, planning out her fourth Harry Potter novel, and deciding: Harry has to be successful in all three tasks; he has to be the fastest to get the egg from the dragon; he has to show his moral fiber in completing the second task; and he has to agree to a tie with Cedric Diggory at the end of the third task.


The book is fantastic so I have no quibble with these decisions but... how would the book have changed if J.K. had decided to have Harry fail in task one or two or both?


The structure of the third task is such that even a failure in one of the two earlier tasks does not eliminate a champion from the competition. Fleur does not complete the second task but the result is only that she is penalized in having to wait to enter into the maze for the third task until some time after the competition leaders, Harry and Cedric, have already gone in.


Fleur still has a chance to win.


Dobby comes through and saves the day for Harry in the second task. But what if he had not done so? What if Harry had been forced to go to the lake, stick his head under the water and yell at the MerPeople to release Ron, as Ron had suggested earlier?


Clearly, we would lose Harry`s demonstration of moral fiber in deciding to sacrifice time at the bottom of the lake in order to save all of the captured kids. But we would also lose the questionable decision of the judges to award him extra points for his moral fiber, since the rules of the Tournament never mentioned anything about the possibility of such extra points being earned. Who knows, if Cedric or Viktor or Fleur had known that such points were available, they might have approached the task differently.


I have never been comfortable with this arbitrary awarding of points in the second task so, from my point of view, it would have been nice if it could have been avoided.


Had Harry failed in the second task, he would have been the last to enter the maze for the third task. He would have followed Cedric, Viktor and Fleur into the bushes. But is that so big a deal? He would still have been able to make up the time, especially since Viktor falls victim to a spell and Fleur falls victim to Viktor. All Harry would have had to do was catch up to Cedric. No problem in a maze of this kind.


I would think further that, had Harry failed at the second task, the pressure would have been on Barty Crouch Junior to be even more aggressive in intervening in the third task to make sure Harry got to the Goblet-Port Key first. That might have made the third task even more exciting.


My best guess is that Rowling treated each task as a separate little plot that required its own conflict, its own rising action and suspense, its own crisis point and its own climax. Further, she must have felt that, given the extremely unhappy resolution to the entire novel (Cedric is dead and Voldemort has returned to full power), she wanted to have the first two mini-plots resolve in positive ways (Harry is successful in each of the first two tasks) so as to make the final scenes in the graveyard and Harry`s ultimate failure (to save Cedric and to stop Voldemort) that much more surprising and effective.


It`s a brilliant strategy -- as the novel develops, Rowling puts a series of significant obstacles in Harry`s way and permits him to overcome them successfully, creating a false sense of security and positive energy entering the final task and the triumph of evil over good in the graveyard scene.


Still, I wonder if Rowling ever considered letting Harry fail at one of the early tasks, of ramping up the pressure on him (Fleur would feel vindicated in her belief that he was too young, Cedric supporters would be even more aggressive, Slytherin people even more nasty, Rita Skeeter would have had even more about which to write, Harry`s supporters would have been even more under pressure to buoy his spirits and Barty Crouch Junior even more desperate to get Harry to the finish line).


That`s the wonderful, challenging thing about the creative art of writing -- every decision the writer makes impacts the novel in significant, often unexpected ways.

Misdirection and manipulation from the fireplace

In my last post, I examined the passage in The Goblet of Fire wherein Barty Crouch, Jr., disguised as Mad-Eye Moody, explains in detail how he, himself, put Harry's name into the Goblet and why.

Today, I'd like to look at another brilliant conceived passage from the fourth book as an example of Rowling's skill, her cunning, as a writer.

I am talking about the scene where Harry consults with Sirius Black through the magic of fire-place communications. It's a beautifully written scene and it offers a great deal of information but, as usual, with a Rowling twist.

Sirius first tells Harry to be careful of Professor Karkaroff, the Durmstrang headmaster. He was, apparently, a Death Eater who then sold out many of his former mates in order to gain release from Azkaban. Without actually saying it, Sirius suggests to Harry that it must have been Karkaroff who put Harry's name in the Goblet.

It's a brilliant ruse, dropped in at this point to confuse us. Rowling trots out the perfect antagonist, one she has very carefully developed in our minds as being untrustworthy and rather nasty. It comes from a character we have come to trust and it points the finger of blame on a person we are absolutely ready to hate.

Next, Sirius tells Harry that he shouldn't simply accept that the attack on Mad-Eye Moody that took place the night before he came to Hogwarts, the attack to which Mr. Weasley had to respond, was a false attack, a creation of Moody's paranoia.

"I think someone tried stop him from getting to Hogwarts," Sirius tells Harry. "I think someone knew their jobs would be a lot more difficult with him around."

Another brilliant strategic move on the part of the author. Why? Because Sirius is absolutely right. The attack on Moody was real. The goal of the attack was to remove Moody from the picture entirely and make it easier for the perpetrator, Barty Crouch Jr., to get at Harry.

And yet, in one important detail, Sirius misses the mark. He assumes that the attack, while real, failed. We believe him, because we have been trained to believe him, because we have been manipulated to want to believe him. We believe that the attack was real but a failure.

So we emerge from this encounter with Sirius believing, as Harry does, that Moody is a good guy and that someone else, probably Karkaroff, is after Harry.

Rowling is a master of this kind of misdirection, of manipulation. She gives us so much information in such a subtle way that we don't see it for what it really is but for what she has carefully designed it to seem.

Brilliant. Wonderful. Wicked.

Moody, Crouch and the impact of the truth

"Maybe someone's hoping Potter is going to die for it... It was a skilled witch or wizard who put the boy's name in that Goblet... they hoodwinked a very powerful magical object. It would have needed an exceptionally strong Confundus Charm to bamboozle that Goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete in the Tournament... I'm guessing they submitted Potter's name under a fourth school, to make sure he was the only one in his category..."

These are the words of a person who is held out to be Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody in the wake of the Goblet of Fire's dramatic declaration that there would be, in fact, four students competing in the Tri-Wizard Tournament in Book Four.

And these words demonstrate, in my humble opinion, just how great a writer J.K. Rowling really is.

Just think about the first time you read that passage. What did you think? You thought, of course, that Moody was on the side of angels, that he was, as he later declares, trained to think as dark wizards do, and that he is probably absolutely right about how Harry's name ended up in the Goblet in the first place.

And now, when you read it again, knowing what you know about this particular version of Moody -- that he is, in fact, Barty Crouch Jr., impersonating the ex-Auror using the Polyjuice Potion and neck deep in implementing Lord Voldemort's intricate plot to transport Harry via portkey to the graveyard in Little Hangleton at the end of the Tournament -- what do you think of the passage?

Is there one false note in it?

It's brilliant. Crouch, as Moody, stands in front of all the people who might wish to stop him from succeeding in implementing Voldemort's evil plan, and tells them, point for point, exactly how he managed to get Harry's name into the Goblet and why he did it.

He behaves exactly as Moody would and should had he been there. He exposes his own plot.

And no one calls him on it. No one even remotely suspects him. Because he is, in fact, an ex-Auror with a reputation for paranoia, they in fact dismiss his explanation entirely. Absolutely brilliant.

Wondering about the Durmstrang Headmaster

Whatever happened to Karkaroff? You remember him, the head of Durmstrang in The Goblet of Fire? What ever happened to him after that book?

He's an interesting character. We find out from Sirius that he was a big Death Eater but that, once imprisoned in Azkaban, he sold out other Voldemort's supporters in exchange for his release from prison. One of those he sold out was... Barty Crouch Jr.

But, unless I'm mistaken, after he disappears at the end of the Triwizard Tournament, Karkaroff never appears in the Harry Potter books again.

Is that right? Karkaroff simply disappears? Or am I missing something?

It's a great story line from Rowling but it makes you wonder how Crouch Jr., in Hogwarts in the guise of Mad-Eye Moody, doesn't succumb to the temptation to do exact vengeance on the man who sent him to Azkaban in the first place.

In all my readings of the Rowling books, I have never paid much attention to Karkaroff and his fate. I will have to be more attentive in the future. I have a feeling Rowling does drop a line into a later book that says what happens to the sinister Durmstrang headmaster but I cannot remember it now.

In The Goblet, Karkaroff serves many purposes, including giving J.K. a ready-made villain to throw at us as an easy explanation for the peril in which Harry finds himself. Who put my name in the Goblet, Harry wonders. Karkaroff, Sirius tells him. Who is trying to kill me? Karkaroff. Who is the biggest threat to me here? Karkaroff.

It's just like Rowling to use this kind of misdirection, to keep our attention on one possible threat while the real villain does a tap-dance right in front of us.

Interesting too that, other than coming to the conclusion that Karkaroff is the enemy rather than Mad-Eye Crouch Jr., Sirius has got most of the Voldemort's recent activities just about right. Sirius has connected Bertha Jorkin's disappearance in Albania with the Death-Eater activities at the World Cup with the other recent developments and come up, quite correctly, with Voldemort.

Again, it's just like J.K. to tell us exactly what's going on in such a way that we almost refuse to believe it.

Rowling spills a Goblet full of beans... and we miss it

As anyone who reads this blog at all will know, I am impressed with J.K. Rowling's skill as a writer. In particular, I am impressed with her ability to provide clues in her books so subtly that even a very careful reader will miss them.

I don't know how many times I've re-read one of the Harry Potter books and suddenly recognized that she has told us what will eventually happen, or given us clear indications of the true loyalties of a character, very early in the book and that I had missed it.

One of the best examples occurs in The Goblet of Fire. Right after Harry's name comes out of the Goblet, J.K. has her villain stand in front of us (and a whole host of characters in the book) and tell us not only what he had done but how and why he had done it.

And we were so caught up in Rowling's misdirections that we miss it completely.

In the course of the very fraught argument that follows the selection of the four Triwizard Tournament champions by the Goblet of Fire, "Mad-Eye Moody" tells everyone:

1. That he used an "exceptionally strong Confudus Charm to bamboozle that goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete in the Tournament";
2. That he "submitted Potter's name under a fourth school, to make sure he was the only one in his category";
3. That he did so "hoping Potter is going to die"; and
4. That he knew Potter would have to compete if his name came out of the Goblet because it represents a binding magical contract.

I won't go into the legalities of how it's not possible for Harry to be bound to a contract to which he never agreed but...

We find out later that "Moody" is, in fact, Barty Crouch, Jr., and that he is working on behalf of Voldemort to make sure that Harry is entered into the Tournament, that he wins the Tournament, and that he is transported via Portkey to the graveyard in Little Hangleton where Voldemort waits for him, first to use him to complete his regeneration potion and then to kill him.

We find out later that J.K. told us exactly what had happened and what was going to happen as early as one-third of the way through the novel. And we completely missed it.

That's a brilliant writer at work!

Character introductions show J.K.'s mastery

One of the many things that stands out for me as I read The Goblet of Fire is the mastery with which J.K introduces us to new characters. Using carefully chosen adjectives to describe each one when they first appear, she guides (and often manipulates) our reaction to them.

Her skill is most noticeable when she introduces two characters in close proximity to whom she wants us to react very differently, like Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch Sr. early in the book and then Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime later on.

Bagman receives a very kind, rather lengthy description when he first arrives, concluding with, "His nose was squashed (probably broken by a stray Bludger, Harry thought), but his round eyes, short blond hair and rosy complexion made him look like a very overgrown schoolboy." The man is immediately likeable from this description and his happy-go-lucky, boyish personality only adds to his attraction, both for us as readers and for the other characters in the book.

Three pages later, Rowling introduces Barty Crouch as a "contrast with Ludo Bagman": "Barty Crouch was a stiff, upright, elderly man, dressed in an impeccably crisp suit and tied. The parting in his short gray hair was almost unnaturally straight and his narrow toothbrush moustache looked as though he trimmed it using a slide-rule." Just look at some of the adjectives she uses in this description (stiff, crisp, unnatural, narrow); every one of them is intended to make a young reader dislike this man. I won't even go into the "slide-rule" description of his moustache: how many members of Rowling's target audience would even know what a "slide rule" is?

Ironic, isn't it, that Bagman turns out to be a bit of con-man, ripping off Fred and George after their winning bet and fleeing from Goblins trying to collect on a debt, while Crouch, though always stiff and unapproachable, ends up being a staunch, utterly trustworthy opponent of the Dark Arts who dies at the hands of his evil son?

Rowling carefully controls how we first react to these characters, only to completely undermine our impressions later in the book.

Later, J.K. introduces us to the two headmasters of Europe's magical schools: Madame Maxime and Professor Karkaroff. In this case, she plays it straight. The initial descriptions of the characters turn out to be accurate predictors of their behaviour.

Madam Maxime is described as "unnaturally large", with "a handsome, olive-skinned face, large, black, liquid looking eyes and a rather beaky nose. Her hair was drawn back in a shining knob at the base of her neck. She was dressed from head to foot in black satin, and many magnificent opals gleamed at her throat and on her thick fingers." She is later described as having a "gracious smile".

Okay, so it's not the most attractive description. I'm not sure the words "unnaturally", "liquid looking" or "beaky" are particularly favourable. But that is balanced out by the words "handsome", "magnificent" and "gracious", suggesting that Madame Maxime will prove a different sort of person, perhaps a difficult sort of person, but not without her positive qualities.

Now compare that to the first description J.K. gives us of the head of Durmstrang: "Karkaroff had a fruity, unctuous voice; when he stepped into the light pouring from the front doors of the castle, they saw that he was tall and thin like Dumbledore, but his white hair was short, his goatee (finishing with a slight curl) did not entirely hide his rather weak chin." She continues the description several lines later with this "his teeth were rather yellow, and Harry noticed that his smile did not extend to his eyes, which remained cold and shrewd."

I will leave out the objectionable use of the term "fruity", a rare bit of potentially homophobic nastiness Rowling unfortunately indulges in from time to time.

Beyond that, we get a very negative impression of this man. From the "weak chin" to the yellow teeth to the cold, shrewd eyes, Karkaroff is described in a way that makes us wary of him from the outset. He "hides" things and smiles false smiles. He cannot be trusted.

To my mind, these descriptions are further examples of Rowling's brilliance as a writer. It is clear that she is in complete command of her craft, masterfully guiding our reactions to her new characters. As it turns out, of course, we learn quickly that J.K. is just as likely to use her powers to mislead us (and therefore make future plot developments more effective) as she is to use them to guide us down the proper path with regard to a particular character.

Why don't the Weasleys have a House Elf?

Let's talk about House Elves for a moment. I'm currently re-reading The Goblet of Fire which, of course, has a distinct HE subplot, and it's gotten me thinking.

The main question that keeps popping into my mind is this one: Why don't the Weasleys have a House Elf?

There is a second question, which is also floating around in my mind, but perhaps I'll deal with that another time. The second question? If House Elves are generally solitary creatures (one per household -- both the Malfoys and the Crouches appear to have only one House Elf each, despite their great wealth), how do House Elves have children?

I mean, from what we've learned, House Elves can do nothing without first getting permission from their Masters. Further, House Elves appear to come in two biological sexes (male and female, Dobby and Winky) which would lead one to imagine (perhaps incorrectly) that it takes one House Elf of each sex to create a child.

So, if House Elves are generally allocated one per great house, and you need to have two House Elves (one of each sex) to make a baby House Elf, does a House Elf approach her Master and say, "Master, may I go visit the nearby great house to visit my partner House Elf for the purposes of making a baby House Elf so you have someone to replace me when I die?"

And, if that's the way it works, to which great house is the resulting baby Elf attached?

But more on that another time (perhaps).

My first question is, why don't the Weasleys, with all those children, have a House Elf?

Part of the answer appears to be provided in my consideration of the second question above: on several occasions in the early books, J.K. Rowling suggests that House Elves are attached to great houses, like those owned by the Malfoys and the Crouches, and the families that inhabit them.

We could argue that a House Elf can only live in a manor or other great building (such as Hogwarts). That would certainly help to explain why the Weasleys don't have an Elf -- the Burrow is simply not grand enough to host such a creature.

When you read that, did your mind go where mine went? But but but but... the Black family does not own a glorious manor house and they have enjoyed the services of Kreacher and his family for generations. The Blacks live in a row house in London, not tiny nor inexpensive by any means, but not a manor house.

So perhaps you don't have to own a magnificent home (or building) to have a House Elf.

Could it be that House Elves only serve great wizarding families with long, glorious histories? No matter where they live at the moment?

That's possible, but it doesn't explain why the Weasleys (or the Gaunts for that matter) don't have an Elf. The Weasleys are well-established as a pure-blood wizarding family and the Gaunts, for certain, are pure-blood with a glorious past.

My best explanation is that House Elves formed relationships with wizarding families long ago in the distant past. They naturally gravitated to families with large homes and lots of money. Once the bond was formed, it continued throughout history, no matter what happened to the wizarding family and its fortunes.

It could be broken only by three events:

1. The wizards freed the Elf for whatever reason;
2. The last Elf in its family died, without children, leaving the wizarding family without an Elf; or
3. The wizarding family died out completely, leaving the Elf in search of a new place.

In the case of 1 or 3, the Elf would either try to find a new family or end up at a place (like Hogwarts) where it could find work and a new role in life.

In the case of 2, the family either had to live without an Elf or find a new Elf that is looking for a new place.

Think about Dobby and Winky, who find themselves, by the middle of TGOF, without a place. Dobby has been accidentally freed by the Malfoys while Winky was let go by Barty Crouch Sr. Dobby goes out looking for work at other houses but ends up at Hogwarts while Winky falls into alcoholism as a result of her shame of being a House Elf without a proper place.

If those two stories are typical of what happens when an Elf becomes free, it is surprising to me that the Weasleys were never able to pick up a House Elf at any point in their history.

It can't be their poverty that stopped them: remember, House Elves normally don't want to be paid. So what was the problem? What happened?

Making sense of the Goblet's plot

A small thought. Voldemort required the blood of an enemy to be brought back to life. He desperately wanted that enemy to be Harry. So he needed Harry's blood.

If that's all he needed, why did he go to such ridiculous (and risky) lengths to have Barty Crouch Jr. shepherd Harry into and through the entire Tri=wizard Tournament just to get him to the graveyard in Little Hangleton at the end of The Goblet of Fire?

Why not just have Crouch siphon off some blood and be done with it?

I know, I know. That would kind of kill the whole plot of the book. If all the Dark Lord required was Harry's blood and it was so easy to obtain, he didn't need to attack Mad-Eye Moody, he didn't need to interfere with the entire Tournament, he didn't need Crouch to sneak Harry's name into the Cup, etc. etc. etc.

Not much of a book, sure, but at least it would have made sense.

Eagle owls and subtlety in writing

Let's talk about eagle owls for a moment.

I think we all know that the Malfoy family owns an eagle owl. We see it delivering packages of sweets to Draco early in the series and from time to time thereafter.

We also know that, in that pivotal vision that harry has in The Goblet of Fire of Voldemort, Wormtail and Nagini just before the third task, Harry arrives at the Riddle Manor House riding upon the back of an eagle owl.

But did you notice that J.K. mentions an eagle owl one other time, earlier in that same novel?

Having grown tired of Ron and Hermione's squabbling over the plight of house elves, Harry decides to go to the Owlery by himself to send a package of food to Sirius. After seeing Pigwidgeon and a couple of school owls off, he stands, looking out over the school grounds, the Durmstrang ship and the Forbidden Dorest, thinking.

Harry sees Hagrid busily digging a patch of ground outside his home and he also sees something else: an eagle owl that flies through the coil of smoke rising from Hagrid's house.

It's a beautifully written, calming scene, like a landscape painting that draws your eye into the world it depicts.

But it's also a clue. One I had not noticed in all of my previous readings of this novel.

The eagle owl is bringing messages back and forth between Barty Crouch Jr. at Hogwarts and Voldemort at the Riddle Manor House. It has to be. It's the Malfoy eagle and it's being used as part of the plot against Harry.

Harry's subconscious mind recognises it as a clue and inserts the eagle owl into his vision. Instead of a message, the owl brings Harry to Voldemort.

When I finally noticed it, I couldn't help but to be impressed, once again, with Rowling's skills as a writer and the very carefully thought and planning she put into every novel.

I've always been amazed at how subtly she inserted a bug into every scene of this book where Rita Skeeter (whom we later discover to be an animagus) eavesdrops on conversations; I never noticed this lovely and subtle clue which should have told me, at least given me a clue as to who was plotting against Harry at Hogwarts.

Rowling sets a clear path at the end of Book Four

As anyone who has been reading this blog will now, I'm very interested in the question of how much of the seven-novel story arc J.K. had planned from the beginning and how much sort of fell into place as the writing progressed.

As a writer myself, I'm fascinated by the writing process. As a writer myself, I'm in awe of Rowling's accomplishment with this fantastic series of books.

But I'm not convinced that she had anything but a vague idea of what the future novels might hold while she was writing the first book. I think she had in mind a seven-year cycle (one book for each year Harry was at Hogwarts) and she knew that the Potter-Voldemort story would form the backbone of the narrative as the books progressed.

I just don't believe that, beyond those basic principles, Rowling had much more of the story planned as she wrote the first, second and even third novels in the series.

Then we come to Book Four, The Goblet of Fire. This is where she started pulling things together and developing a clear plan of how the last three books would play out. I've just finished reading this fourth novel and I found the final scenes in the hospital wing to lay out an absolute route map for the final three books.

It is clear to me from these scenes that Rowling, by this point, had figured out the major events of the rest of her story.

In these hospital scenes, she carefully plants the seeds for the rift that develops between Fudge and Dumbledore in the following novel, the slow coming together of the armies of good and evil, the interference of the Ministry at Hogwarts and the challenges Harry faces at school in the coming years.

I think it is interesting as well that Snape is, at the end of the fourth book, so clearly on the side of Dumbledore that we should, if we as readers were thinking clearly, never doubt his allegiance again.

Faced with a disbelieving Minister for Magic and a dead Barty Crouch Jr., Snape rolls up his sleeve and shows Fudge his Dark Mark, explains what it is and what it means, and tries desperately to convince Fudge that Harry and Dumbledore are right in saying Voldemort has returned.

How can we ever doubt Snape again? And yet we do. And that's the brilliance of Rowling's writing.

I gave Rowling too little credit (and the filmmakers too much)

Well that solves one mystery. When the filmmakers were trying to figure out a simpler way to give Harry information about Gillyweed for the second task of the Triwizard Tournament, where did they get such a good idea from?

From J.K. herself.

In an earlier post, I had attempted to give the movie guys some credit for coming up with an inventive way for providing Harry this life-saving information: by having Neville learn about Gillyweed from a book given to him by Crouch/Moody and then tell Harry about it.

I thought: that's much better than Rowling's answer, which was to have Dobby provide the information at the last minute. Rowling's approach made Crouch/Moody's gift of the book on herbology to Neville appear to be gratuitous kindness, I argued.

I should have had more faith in J.K. And I should have remembered Crouch/Moody's rant to Harry at the end of the book better.

It turns out that Rowling makes it clear, during that rant, that Crouch/Moody did give Neville the book precisely so that he would tell Harry about Gillyweed. Except his plan was foiled because Harry was too proud to ask his friends, outside of Hermione and Ron, for help.

So, in the novel, Crouch/Moody had to come up with another idea.

The filmmakers shortened the whole process by having Harry finally ask Neville how he could survive for an hour under water. Neville then provides the information and Crouch/Moody's plan was effected.

So this is my mea culpa. I gave the filmmakers too much credit and Rowling too little. I won't make that mistake again.

Introducing Bellatrix Lestrange

I just love the way J.K. introduces us to Bellatrix Lestrange, a Death Eater who would go on to become one of the key (and most memorable) new characters of the final three novels.

Rowling draws our attention to Ms. Lestrange slowly, gently, almost soothingly. She gives us significant information about the character but, in each instance, only in passing. Rowling introduces Bellatrix to us in such subtle ways that we almost miss the introduction.

And an important introduction it is.

First, we hear only the last name, and plural. The Lestranges. Mentioned in passing as being among the Death Eaters locked up in Azkaban. No first names, no descriptions. Just another name in a list.

Then comes Harry's visit to the Pensieve in Dumbldore's office, wherein he witnesses a series of hearings of the Wizard Court, trials of accused Death Eaters that took place in the months after Voldemort's fall.

I believe it is the third such trial. The Dementors escort four people into the court room to be tried and all our attention is focused, by virtue of our interest in Barty Crouch and his family, on the last of them: the boy.

Here is how Rowling describes the four:

"There was a thickset man who stared blankly up at Crouch, a thinner more nervous-looking man, whose eyes darted around the crowd, a woman, with thick, shining dark hair, and heavily hooded eyes, who was sitting in the chained chair as though it were a throne, and a boy in his late teens..."

It's a wonderfully simple, yet vivid description of the woman we will later come to know well: Bellatrix Lestrange, with her thick, shining dark hair, her heavily hooded eyes and her pride and certainty in her absolute devotion to the Dark Lord and his purposes.

The focus remains, however, on young Barty Crouch, interrupted only briefly by Bellatrix's defiant declaration of her devotion to Voldemort when the Dementors come to escort them all to Azkaban.

In that scene, we learn that the four are accused of torturing Neville's parents into incoherence using the Cruciatus curse. That means that Rudolphus Lestrange, Bellatrix's husband, must be one of the other two people in the group -- either the thickset man with the blank look or the thinner, more nervous man -- and yet we learn very little further about him throughout the final three novels. Bellatrix outshines him in this scene just as she will do the rest of the way.

And then, finally, we hear about the Lestranges from the Dark Lord himself. In the graveyard, as he surveys the Death Eaters who have returned to him, he encounters a gap in the circle.

"The Lestranges should stand here," he says, "But they are entombed in Azkaban. They were faithful. They went to Azkaban rather than renounce me... when Azkaban is broken open, the Lestranges will be honoured beyond their dreams."

But Voldemort has more on his mind at that point. His comments on the Lestranges are lost amid his interactions with all the other Death Eaters and, more especially, his ensuing duel with Harry Potter.

Such a quiet introduction. Such a slow build up. So masterfully written so that, every time Bellatrix makes an appearance, she is overshadowed by other characters or other events. Our attention as readers is drawn elsewhere so that we don't recognise just how important, how evil this character will become.

Sirius should look at himself before judging Crouch

Quick "Spotting Test". Read the following quotation from a Harry Potter novel and tell me who said it and in what context.

"If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals."

What do you think? What book? Who said it?

As you probably already know from reading this blog, I've been enjoying The Goblet of Fire again so it's no surprise that the quote is from that novel. But you might be surprised, based on what we learn of this character in later books, who actually says it.

It's Sirus Black. He's talking to Harry, Hermione and Ron in a cave outside Hogsmeade and the subject is Barty Crouch, Sr. Sirius is advising the hero trio to recognise that the manner in which Crouch treated his house elf, Winky, earlier in the novel is indicative of the evil within him.

Surprised? I was. Sirius' comments in this novel will come back to haunt him in The Order of the Phoenix when we see how poorly Black treats his family's own house elf, Kreacher.

Makes you wonder, doesn't it, if J.K. actually had a clear plan of what would happen in The Order of the Phoenix at the time she was writing this passage in The Goblet of Fire.

After all, Sirius is absolutely right when he tells the trio that Crouch's treatment of Winky is, in fact, a measure of him as a man. But would Rowling be putting these words into Sirius' mouth in the fourth book if she knew how she was going to portray his treatment of Kreacher in the fifth book?

Either Rowling had not planned her books to that level of detail or she really wanted to show us how lacking in self-awareness Sirius is.

What do you think?

Crouch's "kindness" to Neville makes more sense in the film

Anyone who reads this blog will know that I'm not always a big fan of the films. I tend to use this space to vent my frustrations at the liberties the movie-makers have taken with J.K. Rowling's treasured novels.

As a result, I feel that it is important for me to make a big deal of it whenever I find something in the films that I really like, especially when I think the movie version is better than the novel in some small way. It happens so rarely, after all, I might as well make a point of writing about it.

For example, I am enjoying reading The Goblet of Fire right now and, with a quiet Sunday facing me, I broke down and decided to watch the movie as well. I'm not big on the idea that the filmmakers decided to make Durmstrang and Beauxbatons single-sex schools (Durmstrang with boys only and Beauxbatons with girls), nor with the loss of the whole S.P.E.W subplot, the roles of Dobby and Winky, etc.

I recognise that they had to cut a lot out of the 600-page novel in order to get the story told in a 140-minute movie. I'm just not happy with some of the changes they made.

What I did like, however, was the decision they made to have Neville give Harry the tip about Gillyweed for the second task of the Triwizard Tournament. I think it really works.

You will recall that, in the book, it is Dobby who finally gives Harry the Gillyweed, just ten minutes before the task begins. That's fine and works well. But it fails to take advantage of the fact that Crouch (as Moody) had, in fact, given Neville a text on Herbology earlier in the novel.

The filmmakers take the Dobby connection out entirely in order to save time but, in doing so, they take full advantage of the earlier kindness Crouch showed to Neville. In the novel, this kindness is actually kind of strange: why would a character so completely bent on helping the Dark Lord capture Harry and return to full life take the time to be kind to a kid at the school?

The movie version works better. We find out that Crouch's "kindness" was simply another step in his cunning plan to help Harry win the tournament without anyone realising he is doing so.

In this case, at least, the filmmakers actually improved on the original.

Rowling tells us stuff but doesn't let us register that we know it

I finished my Christmas reading. 13 books in seven weeks. Not bad.

Now back to Harry Potter. When the gift books started flowing in back in December, I was about 100 pages into The Goblet of Fire, the fourth novel in the series and the first of the really long books. This morning, I plunged back in.

And the first thing that struck me was how skillfully J.K. slips Barty Crouch Jr.'s attack on Mad-Eye Moody, a key plot point, into the novel without the reader realising that something major has happened.

We are first made aware of the incident when Malfoy reads out Rita Skeeter's article describing the attack in the Entrance Hall at Hogwarts. Malfoy uses the article to tease Ron, focusing not on the attack itself and its possible significance to the story but, instead, on the fact that Ron's dad was sent to investigate it.

The passage of the book is even more tricky because Rowling then has Moody himself enter the scene and intervene in the wand duel between Harry and Malfoy that ensues. By burying the revelation that Moody had been attacked deep within a very exciting, action-packed scene (after all, Moody transforms Malfoy into a ferret to punish him, then McGonagall arrives to chastise Moody), Rowling gives us key information but immediately draws our attention away from it.

I remember reading this book for the first time and, when it was revealed that Crouch had actually trapped Moody in his own box and taken on his identity, I felt tricked. How was I supposed to have guessed that?

Then I re-read the book and found out that Rowling had, in fact, played fair with her reader by telling us about the attack early on in the novel. I simply wasn't attentive enough to notice it.

And neither was the hero trio. Instead of asking Moody what happened, they get caught up in the drama that follows and thoughts of the attack itself disappear.

Fab writing. She gives us loads of information that could help us figure out the plot but distracts us from it almost immediately, so that we don't, in fact, catch on.

The enigma of Mad-Eye Moody

The role of Mad-Eye Moody interests me. We all got to know Mad-Eye pretty well in The Goblet of Fire, only to find out that it wasn't Mad-Eye at all that we were getting to know but, instead, that it was Barty Crouch Jr in disguise.

This created an interesting situation at the beginning of the fifth novel. Harry, Hermione and Ron spent the entire previous year at Hogwarts with a man they believed was the famed ex-Auror. They grew to know "him" fairly well and even to develop something of a relationship with him.

The real Mad-Eye, meanwhile, was stuck in a box for that entire year. He doesn't know these kids. He barely even meets them at the end of the book.

Then begins The Order of the Phoenix. Mad-Eye is a part of the Order and so interacts with the many characters at Grimmauld Place, including Harry, Hermione and Ron. I would have expected there to be some kind of strangeness, some awkwardness between the real Auror and our dynamic trio when they meet up again in this fifth book.

After all, the young people must feel they know Mad-Eye pretty well; he, on the other hand, has never really met them. It would be a very strange situation for all of them.

Yet J.K. doesn't address the strangeness at all. In fact, she continues to write the real Mad-Eye exactly as she wrote the fake Mad-Eye, and she appears to let the relationship between Harry and the Auror pick up exactly where it left off the year before.

I think J.K. slipped a bit here. I think she worked so hard to develop both the character of Mad-Eye and his relationship with Harry in The Goblet of Fire that, in writing the following novels, she forgot that it wasn't the real Mad-Eye at all in the fourth book. It never occurred to her that she should have them "start over" as strangers in The Order of the Phoenix.

She wrote their relationship so well in the fourth novel that she fooled herself into thinking that they actually knew each other.