What is Harry's crime in the Half-Blood Prince?

There is something that has always bothered my about one of the key scenes in The Half-Blood Prince.

As you will no doubt recall, in the later stages of the novel, Harry sees on the Marauders Map that Malfoy is in a boys bathroom with Moaning Myrtle. Harry enters the bathroom and finds Malfoy leaning over a sink, crying, while Myrtle attempts to soothe him.

Harry takes no action, other than to stand looking at Malfoy. Malfoy pulls himself together and looks up into the mirror. He sees Harry standing behind him, draws his wand and casts a spell at Harry. That spell misses and a duel ensues.

The two are well-matched (surprisingly so, considering Harry's experience and training, but I wrote about that in an earlier post). After several shots back and forth, Malfoy attempts to cast the Cruciatus curse on Harry but Harry is a shade quicker, hitting Malfoy with the mysterious Sectum Sempra spell that he found in his potions text.

Malfoy collapses to the floor, bleeding profusely and dropping his wand. The duel is over. Harry takes no further offensive action but merely stands by as Myrtle screams and Snape thunders into the room to render aid to the bleeding Malfoy.

From what I can tell, Harry did nothing wrong. He walked into a public bathroom. He watched a schoolmate cry. He responded to an attack by that schoolmate. He avoided being tortured by that schoolmate (who was attempting to use an Unforgiveable Curse on him). He took effective action to render his attacker incapable of continuing the attack, without actually killing his attacker. He took no further aggressive steps once his attacker was incapacitated.

Where is the crime? Why is he punished? Why is he subjected to such significant vilification from Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall and even Hermione?

Malfoy cast the first spell and started the duel with no more provocation than that Harry happened to be standing there watching him cry. Malfoy escalated the duel by attempting to cast an Unforgiveable Curse. Harry defended himself once attacked and stopped once he had rendered his attacker incapable of continuing to attack.

Malfoy was forgiven for attacking Harry and forgiven for casting an Unforgiveable Curse.

Harry was found guilty of defending himself effectively from an unprovoked, serious, perhaps deadly attack.

Okay, I can understand that Snape, who hates Harry immensely for a variety of perhaps understandable reasons, might see this an opportunity to get at Harry. Fine.

But McGonagall? Once she heard Harry's story and interviewed Myrtle, wouldn't she intervene in support of Harry? Wouldn't she demand that Malfoy, once recovered, be punished (and likely expelled) for launching an unprovoked attack on a schoolmate and for attempting to hit that schoolmate with an Unforgiveable Curse?

And Hermione? Sure, she doesn't like the Half-Blood Prince's book. And sure, she quite properly chastises Harry for using an untried curse on someone like this. But why does she so thoroughly condemn Harry for his actions?

From a narrative perspective, on the other hand, I can understand this scene and its outcome. It provides action in the middle of a fairly static plot. It permits the duel between Malfoy and Potter that we have been hoping for since book one. It creates a reason for Harry to be forced to miss the final Quidditch match and sets up the climax of the Harry-Ginny romantic build up.

And, of course, if Malfoy were punished or expelled at this point, the climax of the entire novel would be impossible -- with Malfoy kicked out of school, there would be no way for Dumbledore to be trapped by Death Eaters on the top of the tower that fateful night.

So I see the value in the duel and Harry's punishment to Rowling as a writer but... the outcome of the duel still does not make any sense in the world of the novels.

Rowling would likely have been better to have the duel start less decisively -- Malfoy and Harry square off, trade words, then begin to duel together. And she should never have had Malfoy attempt an Unforgiveable Curse. It doesn't have much impact in the course of the action scene, it is unsuccessful and it creates the problem of Malfoy getting away with attempting to cast it.

Then, Harry could legitimately face punishment for using a curse without knowing what it did and, perhaps, for responding to Malfoy's less nasty attack with a ferocious spell that endangered the life of a schoolmate.

These are not major changes I am suggesting but I think they would make the outcome make much more sense and not seem so contrived.

The Burrow burnt; the Burrow rebuilt

So I'm watching the last three Harry Potter films... just because. I don't particularly like them but, once in a while, I feel the need to see them again. Especially when I am re-reading the novels.

As I read The Half-Blood Prince (in French), I thought I'd throw in the Blu Ray of the movie version, which led to where I am now, with The Deathly Hallows, Part I, in the Blu Ray player, watching the opening scenes.

And it occurs to me, as it has several times before, to ask the question: if the film-makers decided to take the creative liberty in the sixth movie of introducing an all new scene in which Bellatrix, Greyback and several other Death Eaters attack and finally burn the Burrow to the ground, why is that particular domicile back at the start of the seventh film, rebuilt exactly as it was?

The Burrow was always, in novels and films, a ramshackle collection of rooms, pieced together over years and years, making no sense, comfortable almost in spite of itself. In the books, it never burned so there was no reason for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to rebuild it into a more practical, more comfortable structure.

In the film, however, we see the Burrow completely engulfed in flames and we get a close up of Molly Weasley, standing by, helpless, as it burns to ashes.

By the time the seventh film starts, however, the Burrow is back in one piece. Exactly the same ramshackle, ill-designed piece that burned only a few months before. Why not improve it? Why not make it a more sturdy structure, bigger, better designed,with better flow, better light, better everything?

Sure, you can tell me that the Weasley's made the decision to rebuild the Burrow exactly as it was before out of a sense of history, of sentiment, of not wanting to lose their "home". But it makes no sense to me.

Is it possible the film-makers simply forgot that they burned it to the ground????

Is Snape really speaking directly to the readers?

Do you think it's possible that J.K. Rowling wrote the scene near the start of The Half-Blood Prince in which Narcissa and Bellatrix visit Snape at least in part to respond to suspicions raised by her readers?

As you no doubt know, the question of whether or not Snape is on the side of good or the side of evil is one of the principal tensions that underlies the greater story arc of the seven Harry Potter novels and one that the author cultivates very carefully.

Rowling is so effective at maintaining that tension, at keeping the truth hidden, that the revelation of Snape's true story at the climax of The Deathly Hallows is one of many emotional highlights of the entire series.

By the time J.K. started to write the six novel, the Snape conundrum was already the subject of much discussion and debate among fans. Rowling gives us a great deal of material to support the argument that Snape is a Death Eater and has not renounced his evil ways. She also gives us some grounds to support the argument that he is not, grounds that many readers latched onto to suggest that Rowling (as an extremely clever writer) was pulling the wool over our eyes.

In the scene at Spinner's End, Rowling gives Snape the chance to defend himself from those who argue that he is not a true Death Eater, that he is a spy for Dumbledore. And she does it very cleverly, by having another major, fearsome character challenge him with just the kinds of suspicions that her readers had at that point in time.

It's a great scene. And an effective one. Snape takes the time to address everyone one of Bella's concerns and, in doing so, convinces the reader as well.

Amazingly, one of the main planks of Snape's argument is that Voldermort himself has accepted Snape's explanations. We are convinced because Voldemort has been convinced.

Rowling quite brilliantly address our concerns as readers by referring to an authority that she herself created. I don't know about you but, when I first read the Spinner's End scene in THBP, I said to myself: "That's right. Snape convinced Voldemort so he can't possibly be a spy for Dumbledore. The Dark Lord would be able to see right through any form of deception".

And I was satisfied with that. As Rowling wished me to be. And I was blown away by the revelation at the end of the series.

It's great writing. But I also wonder if it was writing that responded to the fans of the books (a consideration outside the magical world of the novels) as much as to the reality created within the book itself.

Hmmm....

The imperfect choice for Prefect

Help me figure something out. I'm re-reading The Order of the Phoenix and I've just come to the part where Ron and Hermione receive their Prefect badges from Hogwarts.

A big deal is made about the fact that Harry was not chosen instead of Ron -- everyone thought he would be -- and, if I recall correctly, Dumbledore will eventually explain to Harry, at the end of the book, that he didn't want to put any more pressure on our hero than he was already facing.

Good enough.

But tell me why Dumbledore would name Draco Malfoy a prefect for Slytherin. The headmaster is well aware that Draco's dad is a confirmed Death Eater. He knows that Draco is Harry's nemesis and that, with the powers of a Prefect, Draco would have a great deal more power to bother, upset and harass Harry throughout the year.

So why, if Dumbledore is worried about putting too much additional pressure on Harry, does he name Draco a Prefect? Why not someone else? Even Crabbe or Goyle would be a better choice, since they are too stupid to be really harmful to Harry. Even if Draco is telling them what to do, their thickness would provide something of a buffer and the fact that Dumbledore refused to recognize Draco as a Prefect should make Harry feel a little bit better about being passed over.

The only think I can think of is that the Ministry intervened in these choices as well. Maybe Lucius paid Fudge to force Dumbledore to name Draco as Prefect. We see Draco's dad and the Minister of Magic together at the start of the book -- perhaps that's when the demand was made and granted.

I simply cannot believe Dumbledore would make this choice on his own.

Umbridge a Death Eater?

This will show you how really attentive a reader I am -- I just realized, as I re-read the first chapter of The Order of the Phoenix for the 20-somethingth time, that Dolores Umbridge sent the Dementors to Little Whinging to kill Harry Potter on that hot summer night.


She wasn't playing around. She took it upon herself, without any consultation with Cornelius Fudge or anyone else, to send the most heinous of magical creatures into Surrey to kill an innocent 15-year-old boy who had committed no crime but witness the rebirth of the Dark Lord and return to tell about it.


Woweee.


I mean, these Dementors meant business. They arrived, attacked and were ready to perform the Kiss on Dudley, an even more innocent bystander in all this, without wasting any time at all.


We only learn at the end of the novel that it was Umbridge who, on her own initiative, sent them to attack Harry but, in retrospect, this action says a great deal about this delightful lady.


She could not have known that Harry was so capable with the old Patronus Charm. We can't give her the benefit of the doubt by arguing that she sent the Dementors to force Harry to perform magic so that the Ministry would then have some grounds to snap his wand and expel him from Hogwarts.


She was trying to kill him.


Why? For upsetting Fudge? For making him look bad?


Is it possible that Umbridge is actually a Death Eater who is simply never identified as such? That she is acting on the Dark Lord's orders, trying to kill the Boy Who Lived after Voldemort failed to do so in the graveyard?


If she isn't a Death Eater, Doesn't her decision to try to have the Dementors kill Harry seem like a bit of an over-reaction under the circumstances? To kill Harry just because he represents the only real evidence available that Voldemort has returned?

Best school trip ever

I am impressed with the generosity of Madame Maxime and Beauxbatons.


In the scene I discuss (in a very confusing fashion, I am sure) in my last post, the Beauxbatons students are looking for Madame Maxime, their headmaster, as the Death Eaters terrorize the campgrounds at the Quidditch World Cup.


That would suggest that the students went to the World Cup, in England, as part of a class trip. They don't look for their parents -- they look for their headmaster.


That's a pretty awesome school trip. We learned early in The Goblet of Fire that tickets to the World Cup final are both highly sought-after and expensive. Kudos to Beauxbatons and the parents of these kids for making a class trip out of it!


Certainly Dumbledore doesn't seem to have considered taking a bunch of Hogwarts students to the game.


Of course, from a dramatic standpoint, it is helpful for J.K. to introduce the idea of other schools of witchcraft and wizardry around the world early in the novel, in a realistic way, so that when the Tri-Wizard Tournament is launched and the contingents from the rival schools arrive at Hogwarts, the big moment is not bogged down by a lot of explanation and exposition.


But, still, that's a pretty awesome class trip.

If it's French in the original English, how does it translate?

I am reading and enjoying the French translations of the Harry Potter novels, published by Folio Junior. Through this experience, I am seeing the Potter stories in a new light, improving on my French comprehension and learning a thing or two about the practice of translating literature from one language into another.


Translator Jean-Francois Ménard seems, to my untrained eye, to have done a wonderful job translating Rowling's prose, remaining true to her intent but exercising enough creative/translator's license to ensure that the writing is as lively, accurate and interesting in French as it is in the original English.


After all, sometimes a literal translation just doesn't work. Especially with language as idiomatic as that used by J.K. in these books.


As I started the fourth novel, Harry Potter et la Coupe de Feu, I was quite interested to see how Ménard would deal in his translation with the fact that the English-speaking main characters encounter and interact with French-speaking people from Beauxbatons.


The first encounter between English and French speakers in Rowling's fourth book takes place in the wooded area that offers refuge for Quidditch World Cup fans who want to get away from the frightening march of the masked Death Eaters through the camp ground.


Harry, Hermione and Ron have encountered Draco Malfoy and are just starting to search for the rest of the Weasley kids when they hear a group of young people speaking loudly to each other.


This group is, of course, made up of Beauxbatons students, who are frightened and looking for Madame Maxime,their head master.


In the original English novel, Harry and his pals speak English, the Beauxbatons students speak French, and no one understands each other so they just move on.


But in the French translation, everybody speaks French. Yet, the two groups still don't seem to understand each other and so they just move on. When a French reader reads an English book in translation that involves French characters, does she keep in mind the fact that two different languages are at play, even though everyone is speaking French?


I have to admit, this has gotten me all turned around inside my head.


When I read a French novel in translation (into English), what language do English speaking characters speak in the English translation?


It's a strange moment. One of the French students says something to Ron, he says "Pardon" and the French student says, "Il ne comprend rien, celui la." ("He doesn't understand anything, that one there") As the French students move off, the English students hear clearly a mention of "Potdelard", which of course is a mispronunciation of the French version of the name of the English school of witchcraft and wizardry -- Poudlard.


In some ways, the translation is wonderfully written with fun plays on the language. For example, Ron says "Pardon", which means the same thing in French and in English, only the pronunciation is different.


As a native English speaker, I heard in my head Ron say "Pardon" in English, to remind me that there is a language barrier here. But would a native French speaker read this, hear Ron pronounce "Pardon" in the French manner, and get confused as to why Ron and the Beauxbaton student cannot communicate?


Would a native French speaker think that the Beauxbaton student is implying that Ron is not smart enough to understand her, or has a development disability of some kind, since both characters were speaking the same language prior to this exchange?


And I wonder if I read "Potdelard" differently than would a native French speaker. I read it immediately as pot (rhyming with "hot") -de-lard. Would a French speaker read it is Poh (rhyming with the French word "mot") -de-lard?


I am very interested to read how Ménard approaches these questions as the story goes along. How will he deal with the heavily accented English that characters like Madame Maxime and Fleur Delacour employ in J.K.'s prose? Will they speak an accented version of French?


Another interesting note on the translation of this scene: in the original English, Rowling merely mentions that Harry and the gang notice a group of young people talking in loud voices nearby.


Ménard, the translator, actually inserts some extra dialogue to capture what the Beauxbatons students were saying. "Enfin, c'est incroyable!" the one French student says. "Qu'est-ce que c'est que cette organization?" (I'm no translators but I read that as, "Finally, it is incredible. What is this organization?")


These quoted lines, in which the Beauxbaton student appears to be critical of the security at the World Cup, do not appear in the original Rowling novel. Ménard has invented them for the purposes of his translation.


I will have to watch for more such creative indulgences in this book!

Out of Order in the fifth film

I don't know enough about film making to know whom to blame: the director, the editor or the continuity person. But I've just watched the movie version of The Order of the Phoenix again and, let me tell you, that film is seriously flawed.

And I'm not just talking about the numerous poor decisions the screen writer made in revising J.K. Rowling's long novel into a relatively short film. I'm talking about easy to avoid flaws that suggest that the film makers were just plain sloppy when they made this one.

Take, for example, the opening scene in the play park in Little Whinging in which Harry confronts Dudley and his gang. The editing in this scene is amateurish at best and the continuity just doesn't work. Dudley makes a joke and we're treated to a quick shot of him looking left and right at members of his laughing gang. Harry is nowhere in the shot, still seated on the swings.

Then Dudley teases Harry about his nightmares and Harry gets up, pulls his wand and rushes at his cousin. Cut to that same footage of Dudley laughing, looking side to side, with no sign of Harry in the shot. Then cut back to a close up of Harry jabbing his wand into Dudley's neck and Dudley looking terrified. Sloppy sloppy work.

The storm-clouds set in and we get an aerial shot of the play park. The gang members are still ranged behind Dudley but he appears to be standing side by side with Harry, with some space between them. Cut back to the closeup of Harry with his wand at Dudley's throat. Awful.

Or how about the scenes in the Room of Requirement as the DA practices, just before Umbridge crashes the party. I won't try to describe it all but, suffice it to say, from shot to shot, characters dance all over the place. No continuity. Amateurish, jumpy editing.

While we're on the DA training, how is that so many characters are able to produce corporeal Patronuses on their first try? From what I saw, Ginny, Hermione and Luna all had bright white animals shoot out of their wands on their first attempt at this most difficult charm. How is that possible?

And was that Levicorpus I heard Harry teaching the gang in the DA? Levicorpus, a spell he doesn't learn until he reads it in the Half-Blood Prince's potions text book in the six novel? To compound the problem, the film makers then have James Potter use a different spell on Snape in the Potion Master's memory, rather than Levicorpus. And further, they have Luna use Levicorpus inside the Hall of Prophesy against a Death Eater.

Huh? Why? Why introduce it at this point at all? It's not necessary and people like me are just going to be upset by the change from the original.

And finally, back on the issue of continuity problems, think about the battle scene in the Ministry, where members of the Order of the Phoenix come to the rescue of our six favourite kids.

First, try to ignore the ridiculous fact that the filmmakers decided that witches and wizards should be able to fly without the aid of brooms, thestrals or other instruments of flight (which still bothers me greatly), and the fact that the filmic Sirius Black arrives and, with Lucius Malfoy at his utter mercy, chooses to punch him, rather than stunning or even killing him. This inexplicable choice permits Malfoy to continue in the battle.

Sorry, I can't. I simply can't ignore that stuff. It drives me absolutely nuts.

Anyway, back to continuity. After the punch, Harry and Sirius get involved in a serious wand battle with Malfoy and another Death Eater. Sirius manages to stun the DE and Harry, taking advantage of the distraction, hits Malfoy with a quick disarming spell and we see Malfoy's wand go spinning out of his hand.

"Nice one James," cries Sirius. But when Sirius fires another spell at Malfoy, Malfoy deflects it with the wand that a split second ago we saw flying away from him. Another battle ensues, which distracts Sirius enough to permit Bellatrix to kill him with the killing curse.

How did Malfoy get his wand back?

This film is so poorly made that I can't help but wonder if the filmmakers chose to cut as many corners as possible, knowing that Harry Potter fans around the world would flock to the film anyway.

The ultimate misdirection in Spinner's End

J.K. Rowling continues to display her prowess as a writer in Chapter Two of The Half-Blood Prince: 'Spinner's End'.

At this point in her writing, Rowling knows that one of the key questions that still dominates the minds of her avid readership is which master Severus Snape truly serves: Albus Dumbledore or the Dark Lord.

And she knows that her readers are beginning to question how Snape could possibly be anything but a good guy, despite his loathing of Harry Potter -- he's just had too many opportunities to commit truly evil acts and failed to do so. He's had Harry at his mercy several times and failed to take advantage; he's been in a position to help Voldemort accomplish his plans on numerous occasions and hasn't done so; he has earned Dumbledore's trust and that trust is apparently unshakeable. As Lupin says, if we trust Dumbledore (and we absolutely do), then we have to trust Snape as well.

So she gives us 'Spinner's End', a chapter that is carefully crafted to address our doubts through a beautifully written confrontation between Snape and Bellatrix Lestrange. In this scene, Rowling has Bellatrix speak all of our doubts, all of our questions, and requires Snape to answer them.

Why didn't you kill Harry Potter on any one of the hundreds of occasions that you were alone with him at Hogwarts over the years?

Why did you help to thwart the Dark Lord's plans with regard to the Philosopher's Stone, the diary, the Goblet of Fire, the Order of the Phoenix?

Why didn't you fly to Voldemort when he called his Death Eaters to him in the graveyard, when he needed help to obtain the prophesy at the Ministry?

Why are you not providing better information on Dumbledore and the Order?

And many more.

We are thinking these questions. Bellatrix demands answers to them.

It's a brilliant strategy from Rowling. Even though we despise Bella, we find ourselves nodding as she fires question after question at Snape. We have had these doubts too! We wonder about Snape's allegiances as well.

And it's fundamentally necessary, critical in fact, to the effectiveness of the seventh and final book that we never suspect the truth about Severus Snape. We must believe he is a Voldemort disciple for much of the suspense in The Deathly Hallows to work, for the surprise at the end to be effective.

So it is crucial that the explanations Rowling places in Snape's mouth be convincing.

And they are. Snape is witty, and sarcastic, and... honest (we think) both in admitting to his mistakes and asserting his successes. He repeats, over and over again, that Voldemort asked the same questions of him and that Voldemort is satisfied with his answers.

In a wonderful twist on Lupin's we-trust-Dumbledore-so-we-must-trust-Snape motto, Snape himself challenges Bellatrix to say that she believes Voldemort to be mistaken in choosing to accept Snape's answers. Bellatrix, of course, refuses to do so.

In essence, Snape says, 'if you trust Voldemort, you trust me'.

And then, to seal the deal in this amazing chapter, Snape submits to entering into the Unbreakable Vow with Narcissa, a submission that Bellatrix never expected, an action that finally convinces Bellatrix and, in doing so, convinces us.

Rowling has effectively dealt with our doubts about Snape and prepared the way for her own seventh novel: Snape is a Death Eater, Voldemort's most ardent supporter. He has Dumbledore hoodwinked and, when he kills Dumbledore at the end of the sixth book, that final act simply confirms the belief that has been created in this epic second chapter.

Turning over a new Page

In case you have missed it, we've added a new "Page" to Potter Thoughts: you can find it under the heading "Fan Fiction" to the right of the main text box.

About four years ago, you see, I began working on my own Rowling-world novel which I titled, The Way Forward. This creative effort of fan fiction focuses on some of the secondary characters from the Harry Potter novels, in particular George Weasley, Minerva McGonagall and Aberforth Dumbledore as each tries to deal with the emotional aftermath of the war against Voldemort and the Death Eaters.

It's not a particularly upbeat novel but I very much enjoyed writing it. I never did finish it but, when I found it again the other week, I thought: why don't I share this on my Harry Potter blog?

I'd love it if you would read my work and give me feedback, good or bad. Just remember: I read the seven Harry Potter novels but I do NOT pay particular attention to the thoughts and comments of J.K. Rowling that she has made public since the last novel came out.

In other words, I don't really know what she has said about where each of her characters is intended to end up. So, it is entirely possible that I have some of them say and do things that don't jive with what Rowling has said since she finished writing the books.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy my little effort. I'll be adding more and more every week.

The Taboo should have been taboo for J.K.

Let's talk about the "Taboo" for a moment.

We're introduced to the Taboo mid-way through The Deathly Hallows. Ron explains that Voldemort's name has "been jinxed, Harry, that's how they track people! Using his name breaks protective enchantments, it causes some kind of magical disturbance... Anyone who says it is trackable!"

First of all, I agree with Ron. Voldemort and the Death Eaters make very clever use of the Taboo since they know that only people who are members of the Order of the Phoenix or might otherwise prove a threat to the Dark Lord still use the name "Voldemort". The Death Eaters refer to him as "the Dark Lord", for the most part, while the good guys and innocents all prefer to use "You Know Who" or "He Who Will Not be Named".

So placing the Taboo on the word "Voldemort" will provide excellent results for the Death Eaters: they will be able to track really problematic people with few false alarms.

Clever. Very clever.

But let's look at the Taboo itself. As explained in the book, the Taboo allows me to place a jinx on a word so that if you use that word you lose all magical protection that you have sought to place on yourself and I can track where you are.

Wow. That's a pretty powerful tool. And we see it work very powerfully later in The Deathly Hallows when, despite all of their tried and true protective enchantments, the Taboo exposes Harry and the crew to the clutches of the Snatchers.

So why isn't it used more often? For example, if the Death Eaters were so interested in finding Horace Slughorn prior to the events of Book Six, why didn't they just put a Taboo on his name (or on "candied pineapple") in order to find him? Sure, there might be some false alarms but they'd probably be worth the trouble.

Why would they not put the Taboo on the names of all of the Order members in order to find them and break down the enchantments protecting them.

And remember, at the start of The Deathly Hallows, Snape tells Voldemort that, Harry will be taken to a safe house that has been prepared for him and has been "given every protection that the Order and Ministry together can provide". Snape concludes: "there is little chance of taking him once he is there."

Wait a minute? If capturing Harry is job one and they have a weapon as powerful as the Taboo available to them, why wouldn't they try jinxing a whole bunch of names or words associated with Harry and the Order, accepting that the large number of false alarms they might face would be well worth the possibility that the Taboo would eventually beak all of the protective enchantments the Ministry and the Order have put in place and allow them to track and capture Harry?

Let's just say they Tabooed the word "Hagrid"? Wouldn't that be enough? I mean, not that many people would say Hagrid's name about then but members of the Order are sure to do so. Why not use it to track Harry and strip away his protections?

Again, I think the Taboo is a very interesting idea. And I agree that the Death Eaters were very clever to have used it to expose members of the Order.

But, like the Time Turner and Felix Felicis, I wonder if it wasn't a dramatic mistake for Rowling to introduce the Taboo into her world. Once she establishes that this powerful tool exists, she has to consider when and how it might otherwise be used to effect in the story.

Then she has to account for why it was not used (it is an extremely difficult jinx and a person can only cast one Taboo at a time, for example).

If she doesn't, in my opinion, she undermines the drama of her narrative.

Two awesome scenes between Headmaster and Dark Lord

Two of the most intense individual scenes in The Half-Blood Prince, in the entire seven-novel Harry Potter adventure in fact, play out inside the Pensieve.

In my opinion, the two encounters between Professor Dumbledore and younger versions of Tom Riddle that Harry experiences from within Dumbledore's own memories represent J.K. Rowling's writing at its very best.

The first takes place at the orphanage where Riddle grew up. Dumbledore has arrived to deliver the boy's Hogwarts letter and to explain to him that he is, in fact, "special". It's brilliantly paced and beautifully written.

And it opens with a wonderful moment between Harry and the Headmaster. When Harry first spies the younger Dumbledore on the bustling, old-fashioned London Street, he is amused to see that Dumbledore is sporting a garish plum-coloured velvet suit.

"Nice suit, sir," Harry says "before he could stop himself".

I don't know why, but that line and the fact that Dumbledore "merely chuckled" in response always make me laugh.

And then Rowling moves us directly into the austere and somewhat ramshackle neatness of Mrs. Cole's orphanage and the wonderful scene of Dumbledore plying the good woman with gin, trying his best to wheedle information from her about her youthful charge, Tom Riddle.

The conversation develops in a natural, almost poetic way and, when Mrs. Cole blurts out, "He's definitely got a place at your school", it's a nice, subtle indication of both how much she wants to tell someone of her suspicions respecting young Tom Riddle and how concerned she is to be rid of him.

Rowling is at her best when she finally leads us into Riddle's room. She knows that this a moment her readers have anticipated for some time yet she refuses to permit herself to indulge in any phoney melodrama.

It was a small bare room with nothing in it except an old wardrobe, a wooden chair and an iron bedstead. A boy was sitting on top of grey blankets, his legs stretched out in front of him, holding a book. 

There was no trace of the Gaunt's in Tom Riddle's face. Merope had got her dying wish: he was his handsome father in miniature, tall for eleven years old, dark-haired and pale. His eyes narrowed slightly as he took in Dumbledore's eccentric appearance. There was a moment's silence.

This is wonderful writing. Subtle, almost anti-climactic. The greatest dark wizard of all time is, at this point, just a handsome, quiet boy sitting on a bed.

And the ensuing conversation between the boy and the teacher involves a wonderfully slow evocation of several aspects of Riddle's character, aspects that Dumbledore later takes care to draw to Harry's attention: his independence, his distrust of others, his personal power and the streak of cruelty that comes with it, his certainty that he is, in some way, "special", his wish to impress but his refusal to trust, his interest in collecting trophies to mark his moments of greatest power and cruelty.

And then there are these paragraphs:

"Hogwarts," Dumbledore went on, as though he had not heard Riddle's last words, "is a school for people with special abilities --" 

"I'm not mad! 

"I know you are not mad. Hogwarts is not a school for mad people. It is a school of magic." 

There was silence. Riddle had frozen, his face expressionless, but his eyes flickering back and forth between each of Dumbledore's, as though trying to catch one of them lying.

"It's... it's magic, what I can do?"

This is the moment when Riddle finds out just how special he is, when it starts to dawn on him the possibilities that lie in front of him. For Harry, this moment led to a longer period of disbelief (that it simply wasn't true) and worry (that he would fail as a wizard). For Riddle, the moment was confirmation of what he had long believed: that he was special, powerful.

Later in The Half-Blood Prince, Harry experiences a second interview between Dumbledore and Tom Riddle from the past, this one having taken place several years after Riddle, now calling himself Voldemort, had graduated from Hogwarts.

It is another, gripping, evocative scene. And it begins with that wonderful moment when Voldemort asserts himself and his new name, an assertion of power that Dumbledore deftly turns aside.

Harry felt the atmosphere in the room change subtly: Dumbledore's refusal to use Voldemort's chosen name was a refusal to allow Voldemort to dictate the terms of the meeting, and Harry could tell that Voldemort took it as such.

Harry's perception of the incident is, in my opinion, accurate and a reflection of how much Harry had already learned from Dumbledore with regard to the subtle ways power plays out in seemingly harmless conversations. Recall, for a moment, how deftly Harry had handled Rufus Scrimgeour when Scrimgeour had cornered him at the Burrow over Christmas.

Although not as courteous at every moment as his Headmaster, Harry proved himself to be equally adept at controlling the terms of the conversation, using his own silence to keep the Minister for Magic off-balance and uncertain.

Rowling does a wonderful job of building the tension in the Dumbledore-Voldemort scene slowly. She uses small details in the conversation (Dumbledore's refusal to use Voldemort's assumed name, Dumbledore's familiarity with the term "Death Eaters", and Dumbledore's detailed knowledge of the "friends" who had accompanied Voldemort to Hogsmeade and who were waiting for him at the Hog's Head) to render Voldemort increasingly ill-at-ease so that, when Dumbledore finally challenges him to be honest about why he wants to return to Hogwarts and refuses to offer him a job, Voldemort is enraged.

We, like Harry, wonder if Voldemort might draw his wand then and there.

These are two effective, wonderfully written scenes, real to the tiniest detail, enlightening for the reader in so many ways. They are Rowling at her very best.

It's almost like most of what took place in the five and half novels up until that point were leading directly to these moments of intense interaction between these two powerful, yet very different, wizards.

And Rowling doesn't disappoint.

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.

I can learn from Rowling's subtlety and careful planning

One of the reasons I like to read and re-read the Harry Potter novels is because they are so well written. As an aspiring writer myself, I feel I can learn a great deal from how J.K. Rowling both in terms of plotting and in terms of the actual writing.

It has struck me, as I dive into The Goblet of Fire again, how well constructed this story is. We are all very familiar with incredibly dramatic ending of this book, with Harry and Cedric agreeing to share the Triwizard victory, then being instantly transported to the graveyard in Little Hangleton where they encounter, with world-shaking, deadly consequences, Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

What impresses me is how carefully Rowling sets the stage for the dramatic conclusion in the earliest parts of the book, how meticulously she prepares her readers for the fast-paced action that brings the novel to a close.

Take the concept of the "Portkey", for example. We have never seen one before this book. It's new and, as we find out, it is a key aspect of Voldemort's plan to bring Harry to the graveyard. Rowling needs to ensure two things as her readers head into the climax of the book: 1) that we understand and are comfortable with what a Portkey is and how it works; and 2) that she doesn't have to slow down the action and the build-up of suspense late in the novel to explain all that to us.

So J.K. introduces the Portkey to us early in the book, when she can do it slowly, carefully and with a full explanation of what it is and how it works. Its introduction at the top of Stoatshead Hill becomes, in fact, another part of our fascinating and ongoing introduction to the world of witches and wizards.

And, since Harry is as new to that world as we are, Rowling can plausibly have Mr. Weasley explain Portkeys to us (and to Harry) when they are first introduced.

Even more clever is the fact that Rowling chooses a very memorable metaphor to describe how it feels to be transported by a Portkey. It feels like "a hook just behind [your] navel has been suddenly jerked irresistibly forwards." That metaphor is not only incredible effective at conveying a feeling (I can just feel that hook yanking me from the centre of my body) but it is also very memorable in its description.

So memorable, in fact, that when, 500 pages later, Harry and Cedric grasp the Triwizard Cup together, all J.K. has to do is tell us that "Harry felt a jerk somewhere behind his navel" for us to know that the Cup is a Portkey and that Harry and Cedric are on their way somewhere they don't want to go.

Rowling also takes great care to introduce (or re-introduce) us to Cedric Diggory in a much more sympathetic way in this book. Since it is a key to the success of this book that we like Cedric by the end, in order to make his death more dramatic and affecting, it is important that we see him as more than the ridiculously handsome boy who actually beat Harry in Quidditch.

How does J.K. accomplish it? With her usual subtlety and style. Instead of giving us some extended scene where he comes across as weak or even maudlin, Rowling shows Cedric being embarrassed by his father's boasting and attempting to clarify that he at least understood why the Quidditch match had turned out as it had.

Thanks to this very brief moment in the early part of the book, we are much more willing to give Cedric the benefit of the doubt when he gets thrust into the unenviable position of being painted as Hogwart's wronged champion later in the novel.

I learn something from Rowling every time I read one of her books. And The Goblet of Fire contains as many lessons for an aspiring writer as any of them.

The mysterious disappearance of the wizarding robes

Where are their robes?

It's just occurred to me. The filmmakers have virtually done away with the wearing of robes, so prevalent in the novels, in Part 2 of The Deathly Hallows.

Why?

We see the Hogwarts students in their school robes first as they march into the castle under Headmaster Snape's watchful eye early in the film and then again in the school assembly scene where Harry finally confronts Snape. But, other than those two scenes, the wearing of robes seems to have disappeared completely.

Harry, Hermione and Ron remain in Muggle clothes throughout the entire film, except for Harry's decision to don (someone's) robes to slip into the school assembly scene. The members of the Order, the Death Eaters, everyone else seems content to wear anything other than the traditional garb of witches and wizards as so clearly established in the books.

Now, let's think about this for a moment. J.K. presents to us a wizarding world where the wearing of robes is as natural to the magical people as wearing jeans and tops is to many of us Muggles. Wizards and witches would feel comfortable, normal in robes and would find wearing anything else strange.

Yet, by the eighth film, suddenly they're all taking the first opportunity to dump their robes and put on slacks and sweaters. It doesn't make sense.

Rowling describes very carefully how Harry makes sure to tuck his Invisibility Cloak and his wand away in his robes when he goes into the Forbidden Forest to die at Voldemort's hand in the seventh book. In the movie version of this scene, Harry's in Muggle clothing.

Why? Well, I know why. It's cheaper, it's easier and it helps viewers identify with the good guys in the final battle. They're just like us. The Death Eaters, while not in robes per se, wear strange dark outfits that set them apart. The good guys dress like we, the audience members do.

I get that. But I don't like it. It's a cop out. And it's not right.

One last question: where do all the robes go between the school assembly scene (where all the Hogwarts students are in their robes) and the battle scenes that follow? There's no temporal break between McGonagall's duel with Snape and the Death Eaters' attack on Hogwarts and yet somehow all of the robes disappear.

That must be some closet they've got there in the Great Hall to hold all those robes.

Where is all the liquid luck in the Battle For Hogwarts?

Here's a question that has been bothering me for quite some time now: why did no one involved in the Battle of Hotwarts at the end of The Deathly Hallows take a nice dose of Felix Felicis before the fight started? Seriously.

Professor Slughorn introduces us to this wacky substance in the Half-Blood Prince. As you will recall, Harry gave his stash of Felix Felicis to Ron, Hermione and Ginny just before heading off with Dumbledore to Voldermort's cave to attempt to retrieve the locket Horcrux. They later credit the potion for saving their lives throughout the fight with the Death Eaters who invade Hogwarts that night.

Sure, it takes six months to brew. And sure, it is devilishly tricky to make and a disaster if it goes wrong. But Slughorn has proven himself capable and surely Snape himself should be able to brew the potion so why aren't at least some people on either side of the final battle flying on liquid luck when the fighting starts?

It's possible some are, in fact, under the influence of Felix Felicis at that time and J.K. simply decides not to tell us readers. Or, perhaps, she conveniently forgot about the potion when she wrote the seventh book because, let's face it, liquid luck would kind of undermine the drama of the final book, wouldn't it?

And that is, of course, the problem with narrative short cuts like this. Rowling needed a convincing, magical way for Harry to weedle the Horcrux memory out of Slughorn in Book Six and decided to create Felix Feilcis to accomplish that task. It sounded good at the time and even produced some fun moments. But, once she'd created the a potion that brings luck to those who drink it, she kind of found herself in a bit of a pickle in the seventh book.

Now that they know about Felix Felicis, why would Harry, Hermione and Ron not brew a batch while they're holed up at Grimmauld Place, then take a little dose of it each time they go into a particularly dangerous situation: like the Ministry, Gringott's or Hogwarts? Or, for that matter, why wouldn't one of the adults in their lives have brweed some Felix Felicis and delivered it to Harry? After all, he is their best hope for defeating Voldemort.

Yes, overuse of the potion can lead to ill effects but we have it on good authority (from J.K. herself) that Slughorn had used it twice in his lifetime with no problems and, further, that Dumbledore had used it too in his youth, though only for recreational purposes of course. So what's the issue?

This question bothers me a lot. It undermines the tension of the final book and makes me wonder why Felix Felicis isn't used more often by more witches and wizards. My personal opinion is that Rowling would have been better off finding some other way to get Harry together with Slughorn in Book Six and to let Harry's natural charms and kindness work on him rather than creating a potion that would prove so inconvenient, so counter-productive to the creation of tension in the seventh book.

I find I have to forget about the existence of Felix Felicis in order to enjoy to its fulleset the seventh book. And that's not a good sign.

The vanishing cabinet appears

More evidence that maybe J.K. was planning the whole series right from the start: in the second book, The Chamber of Secrets, Peeves saves Harry from Filch's clutches by dropping a massive object onto the floor above the caretaker's office.

The object? A vanishing cabinet.

As we all know, it was with the help of that same vanishing cabinet that Draco Malfoy managed to sneak Death Eaters into Hogwarts to help him kill Dumbledore in The Half-blood Prince, the second to last book.

I realise that much more careful readers than me have noticed this little detail a long time ago but it jumped out at me this morning as I read the second novel over breakfast. Peeves drops a vanishing cabinet! Amazing.

So either Rowling had it all planned, and took care to describe the dropped furniture as a "vanishing" cabinet rather than just a "cabinet", or she got to the sixth book and thought, "hmm, how should Draco do this? Didn't I mention an interesting piece of furniture in one of the first books that might help me out now?"

As always, I'm a little bit in awe of both her writing and her planning/memory.

Thoughts on deleted scenes and Spanish movie trailers

On the day that the last Harry Potter movie has its big premiere showing in London, England, all of the rest of the world must content ourselves knowing that we only have to wait eight more days to see the film.

Meanwhile, I was wandering through Youtube last night and I stumbled across two things that I had never seen before: first, a scene edited out of The Deathly Hallows, Part 1, and, second, the Spanish language trailer for The Deathly Hallows, Part 2.

The out-take scene that I found is likely on my Blu Ray copy of the film as well but, for some reason, my player struggles with the Deleted Scenes feature so I missed this one. It's the scene in the tent, just after the visit to the Ministry, with Ron lying on a cot, recovering from his splinching, and Harry and Hermione discussing the Horcruxes and where they might be.

The scene contains two massively important plot points, so important that I simply cannot believe the film-makers decided to save themselves at most 90 seconds by editing this scene out of the theatrical version. In it, Harry explains to Hermione Dumbledore's theories about the Horcruxes. First, Dumbledore believed that Voldemort chose objects of importance in magical history in which to hide his Horcruxes. Second, Dumbledore told Harry that the Dark Lord had chosen to hide his Horcruxes in locations that were personally important to him. Then Ron tells them that the name "Voldemort" has been tabooed and that the Death Eaters know immediately when someone uses it.

These are hugely important pieces of information. Without them, the film makes no sense to a person who has not read the book. I watched this scene last night in awe. Why did they take it out? It is so key!

As for the Spanish trailer, well, I was surprised to see that it was actually quite different from the English version. There are scenes and images in the Spanish one that you don't see in the English one, including several seconds of Harry and Voldemort, both on their stomachs, struggling to get to the Elder Wand, which is lying on the ground between them. This is a scene that is definitely not in the movie.

And that bothers me. It would seem that J.K.'s simple, almost matter-of-fact final end to their duel wasn't enough for the movie people. They have to turn it into an extended, epic battle.

Too bad. I thought the simple finality of Tom Riddle collapsing to the floor in the book was absolutely perfect.

Harry and friends walk into a trap

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny and Luna have just arrived at the Ministry to find that they've walked into a trap. Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange and a host of Death Eaters are waiting for them with wands ready.

After almost 600 pages of pure hell getting through Umbridge at Hogwarts, this fifth book has an amazingly exciting ending. It's only too bad that the film version, for all the wonder of its climactic scene, can't capture the complexity of the emotions, even of the action itself, presented in Rowling's book.

I watch the movies too often and read the books too seldom. Must rectify that mistake.