Potter It Forward, if you can

I have been struggling for the past two weeks with the writing of my next post for this blog. Why? Because I have been caught up in this whole "Potter It Forward" movement and decided that my next entry should be that message I would write if I ever decided to Potter It Forward and slip a message to new Harry Potter readers into new copies of the HP books at my local bookstores.


The problem is: the majesty of the idea has got me a little bit paralyzed.


What exactly could I write to express just how much of an impact these books have had on my life, how important I feel they are both as models for how children's and young adult novels should be written and as wonderful, exciting, intriguing stories in themselves, how significant they have been in bringing the excitement of reading to a whole new generation? How do I say all that without writing a message that actually turns out to be longer than the Harry Potter novel into which I slip it?


I don't know where to begin. And I certainly wouldn't know where to end.


I think the whole "Potter It Forward" idea to be quite remarkable. I have had to stop myself from going to Chapters just to go through all their copies of the Harry Potter books to collect any PIF messages I may find. I hope to goodness someone will (if they haven't already) create a website where we can post our messages and read other people's messages at our leisure.


The Harry Potter books have literally changed our world. They have infiltrated every aspect of our lives and they have created a common language that so many of us can speak, no matter where we live. They are a point of connection that helps us bridge the gaps between us in terms of age, gender identity, race, religion, cultural background, economic status, and any other aspect of our identity that you can imagine. And that might normally keep us apart.


If I wear my Gryffindor scarf, people smile at me on the street. People nod and point and smile and laugh and, sometimes even, tell me that they were sorted into Hufflepuff, or Ravenclaw or even Slytherin.


I have enjoyed Potter chats with strangers of many different races, of all ages, of every gender identity you can imagine. I'm an middle-aged white guy and yet I have been welcomed as a Harry Potter lover into so many situations by people from all kinds of backgrounds and identities.


How do you sum all that up in a single passage? And how do you deal with the fact that, even if you can sum all that up in a single passage, you've left out the quality of J.K.'s writing, the masterful way she constructs her stories, the living, breathing, incredible true characters she has created.


So, if you're wondering why I haven't posted in a while, that's why. Because there is simply too much to say.

Dumbledore and the Diadem... Something got lost

Help me understand something.

In all of the time Dumbledore spends teaching Harry about Voldemort's past and the existence of the Horcruxes, why doesn't Dumbledore ever mention the lost Diadem of Ravenclaw?

Dumbledore takes great care to ensure that Harry learns two things that will help in his search for the Horcruxes: 1) that Voldemort will use important items to create his Horcruxes and 2) that Voldemort has a special affinity for relics related to the four founders of Hogwarts.

The Headmaster identifies three of relics related to the school's founders: Slytherin's locket; Hufflepuff's Cup; and Gryffindor's sword. Only the sword is still safe from Voldemort's clutches.

If there are six Horcruxes, Dumbledore and Harry agree, then they can deduce that they know the identity of five of them: the Diary (destroyed), the Gaunt ring (destroyed), Slytherin's locket, Hufflepuff's Cup; and Nagini. The identity of the sixth remains a mystery but they believe it must be associated with Rowena Ravenclaw, the school's fourth founder.

So why, at that point, does Dumbledore not say, "And I believe it likely to be Ravenclaw's lost diadem" or at least "I would suspect that it might be Ravenclaw's lost diadem if it weren't for the fact that it is, indeed, lost".

The way the scenes between Harry and the Headmaster in The Half-Blood Prince play out, it would appear that Dumbledore is unaware of the existence of, or the legend of, the lost diadem.

And that makes no sense to me. Dumbledore knew more about Hogwarts and its history than anyone. It is not possible that he would be unaware of the diadem and its story. And he was determined to give Harry as much information about the possible location of the Horcruxes as he could. It is also not possible that he forgot to mention the diadem to Harry at that point or chose not to so so.

The only possibility I can think of is that Rowling had not yet conceived of the lost diadem when she wrote the sixth book. That it was simply fortuitous that she had Harry use a tarnished tiara to mark the location in which he hid his potions book in The Half-Blood Prince and that then, when she came up with the idea of having a lost item of Ravenclaw's be the final Horcrux in order to add more suspense to the ending of The Deathly Hallows, she realised that she had already inserted just the thing in her story.

If that is actually what happened, I think it's awesome! I am in awe of Rowling's creativity and care in crafting these incredibly rich, detailed stories. I will be even more in awe if it is confirmed for me that, at the height of her writing, she was able to make such an amazing, inspired connection with an innocuous detail from her earlier novel to such dramatic effect.

But, if not, then Dumbledore should have mentioned the diadem to Harry.

Pondering the value of the Deathly Hallows to Book 7

I've had several conversations recently about the final novel and the real value of the Deathly Hallows to the whole Harry Potter story.

One respected friend suggested to me that, while she enjoyed the introduction of the mythic Deathly Hallows to the stories, she felt that J.K. ended up rushing the final couple of Horcruxes to make room and time for the Hallows.

Another respected friend said she felt that the final novel would have been just as good without the whole Deathly Hallow hoopla, since, in her opinion, the Deathly Hallows seemed like a late addition and ultimately added nothing at all to the story.

Here are my thoughts.

I feel that the final novel was about Harry proving himself to be worthy of the Deathly Hallows (in a way that Albus Dumbledore was not) and, therefore, the right person to defeat Voldemort. The novel clearly shows Harry to be torn between pursuing the Hallows and finding the remaining Horcruxes, a tension that is only finally resolved at Shell Cottage when Harry chooses to speak to Griphook first, thus allowing Voldemort to reach the Elder Wand before him.

As a result, I think the Deathly Hallows were incredibly important to Rowling's plan for both plot and character. Harry had to prove himself by choosing to follow a path that would lead to the death of Voldemort rather than pursuing the Hallows which would protect him from death. It is important, furthermore, that the Dark Lord chases the Elder Wand with a panicked obsession but proves to know nothing about the other Hallows, showing his limitations in seeing no value in what he would consider to be mere children's stories.

That being said, I agree that the final novel does sacrifice some detail in the pursuit and destruction of the final horcruxes (the destruction of Hufflepuff's Cup is not even shown 'on-screen' in the novel; we are merely told about it later), a development which I find takes away from the effectiveness of the book.

Further, I think it would have been more effective and convincing, as my second friend suggests, if Rowling had managed to incorporate some references to the Deathly Hallows, or at least their symbol, into the earlier novels. For example, Viktor Krum could have been shown confronting a Durmstrang student for wearing the symbol in The Goblet of Fire, rather than simply telling Harry about such an incident in the final novel.

I also find it hard to forget that, when Harry first opens up the parcel containing his father's Invisibility Cloak, Ron exclaims that such cloaks are "really rare", not one of a kind. This suggests to me that J.K. did not, at that time, have the Deathly Hallows in mind. The Invisibility Cloak was merely a valuable rarity, not a legendary item.

Wouldn't it have been great if Ron had told Harry, at that very early point, that one of the children's stories his mother used to read to him discussed an Invisibility Cloak? Now that would have been amazing evidence of Rowling's careful planning.

A French Parselmouth is "un Forchelang"

I'm still working my way slowly through The Chamber of Secrets in French and quite enjoying it. I've just read the part where Harry first discovers that he is a Parselmouth (in French, that's "un Forchelang").

There's a scene where Harry has gone to the Library to try to find Justin Finch-Fletchley to explain to him what really happened at the Duelling Club. Instead, Harry overhears several Hufflepuffs talking about him. It's a nice little scene and our true introduction to Ernie MacMillan and Hannah Abbott.

This reminded me of the fact that they actually filmed this scene for the second movie, with Ernie explaining to the others why he thinks Harry is the son of Slytherin. It was edited from the theatrical release. It's included in the extras on the Blu Ray, however, almost word for word as it is presented in the book.

The funny thing is, this is one of the scenes that I was very happy they cut. As I said above, it's not a bad scene in the book but, in the film, the acting is so poor and mechanical that it really took away from the impact of the movie. I figure the young actors in the scene must have been pretty disappointed to find themselves on the cutting-room floor but I think it was a good decision to leave this scene out.

Poor old Hufflepuff House

I often wonder about the fourth house at Hogwarts: Hufflepuff. With the Far Friar as its ghost and the non-descript Professor Sprout as its head, it often seems to me to be the forgotten house.

Certainly, Hufflepuff never seems to compete seriously for the House Cup (in The Philosopher's Stone, for example, Hufflepuff falls to fourth place when Dumbledore awards his year-end points to the hero trio and Neville) nor for the Quidditch Cup. In fact, when loyalties are tested, Hufflepuff members are less likely to support Harry than are Gryffindors and Ravenclaws.

In that first novel, the Sorting Hat describes the qualities valued by Hufflepuff as being loyalty, a sense of justice and a willingness to work hard. Very laudable characteristics, to be sure, but hardly up to the same calibre as Gryffindor (bravery, daring and nerve), Ravenclaw (a ready mind, wit and learning) or even Slytherin (cunning).

Now turn to The Order of the Phoenix and the Sorting Hat is almost dismissive of Hufflepuff. In describing the students each school founder wanted to accept into his or her house, the Hat says Slytherin wanted those of purest blood, Ravenclaw sought those who were the most intelligent and Gryffindor recruited those with brave deeds to their name. Hufflepuff? Well, she'll take what's left and "treat them all the same".

Wow. That's not a stirring recommendation for Hufflepuff, is it?

Few of Hufflepuff's members play prominent roles in the novels and even the Cup of Helga Hufflepuff, which is one of the Horcruxes, garners the least attention of all the Horcruxes in both the books and the films.

Being placed in Hufflepuff appears to be an assessment that there's nothing special about you. I find it odd that J.K. quite purposely creates this sort of magical netherworld of the mediocre. Other than Cedric Diggory, I had a hard time naming one of its members.

Basically, Hufflepuff includes a list of minor characters like Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Justin Finch-Fletchley and the detested Zacharias Smith. It turns out, of course, that Nymphadora Tonks was also a Hufflepuff, perhaps that House's most distinguished graduate. She and Cedric tend to carry the torch for this undervalued house, I guess.

I wonder if J.K. ever considered having just three houses at Hogwarts?

The film's Voldemort becomes a sad and silly caricature

What did they do to Voldemort?

I mean, honestly, what were Stephen Kloves and David Yates thinking when they decided to rewrite Voldemort for the final film (Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2, in case you forgot)?

First, they decide that the destruction of each Horcrux must affect him, either physically or psychologically. Not only is this contrary to J.K. Rowling's original novels, it's also contrary to their own earlier movies.

When Dumbledore destroyed the ring between films five and six, we see no evidence it had any impact on the Dark Lord. When Ron smashes the locket in Part 1, Voldemort doesn't howl in pain (either physical or psychic).

So it's not even internally consistent in the films that the destruction of Hufflepuff's Cup and Ravenclaw's Diadem would somehow damage Voldemort. And yet, there he is, damaged. Weakened, enraged.

This leads to the second, and even more significant, problem I have with the rewriting of Voldemort in Part 2. Instead of being a controlled, imposing, absolutely and resolutely sane villain as he is in the novels, Voldemort of the films degenerates into a giggling psycho.

Remember Hannibal Lecter in The Silence of the Lambs? We feared him because he appeared so sane, so in control, so intelligent and charming and well-spoken, and yet he was capable of such monstrous evil.

That's the Voldemort J.K. created in her novels.

In Part 2, however, he loses that mystique. In the scene where he leads his army to the front doors of Hogwarts to show the school's defenders the apparently dead Harry, Voldemort prances and giggles like the worst version of Batman's enemy, the Joker. He's no longer scary but silly.

Worse, Voldemort's silliness fundamentally changes his encounter with Neville Longbottom. When Neville steps forward in the novel, Voldemort recognises in him all the characterstics he, the Dark Lord, admires: courage, loyalty, purity of blood. Voldemort speaks to Neville with a tone of respect and says he will make a fine Death Eater.

This makes Neville's continued resistance, his resolute commitment to Harry and the cause, even more significant. Neville has spent his life trying to prove himself, to himself, to his grandmother, to the wizarding world. Harry Potter's cause seems to be lost and here is the apparent new ruler of the magical world, extending an invitation to him to join the new regime, to take a respected place in that world. And Neville refuses. His loyalty, his commitment to all things good, make him reject the very acceptance and recognition that he has long hoped for, even if that rejection will likely cost him his life.

In the film version, Voldemort sneers at Neville, treats him with disdain, makes fun of him. This new silly, giggling villain is so lost he can no longer even recognise in others the qualities he has long claimed to admire and respect.

The film's depiction of this scene is, unfortunately, an insult not just to Neville but to Voldemort himself. It's too bad. Kloves and Yates don't seem to have the artistic sensitivity to recognise the elegant subtlety and depth of J.K. Rowling's original novels and the final film in this epic series suffers greatly as a result.