What Rowling knew at the end of The Prisoner

Anyone who has read the entries in this blog to date will know that one of my many obsessions in relation to Harry Potter is to work out, from evidence in the books themselves, how advanced J.K. Rowling's planning was as she wrote each of the early books.


We all know that Jo has said she had created a very strong outline of the seven-novel series even before (or at least while) she wrote The Philosopher's Stone and we have no reason to doubt that. But the question that intrigues me is: just how detailed was that plan?


Having just completed a reading of The Prisoner of Azkaban (in French, mind you), I am very comfortable in saying that, by the end of the third book at least, Rowling must have progressed to a pretty impressive level of detail in her planning for the rest of the series. I say this even though I also feel quite strongly that her outline was not very detailed before that point in the writing.


Here's what I think happened:

• Rowling wrote The Philosopher's Stone with a general outline in her mind of what might play out for her characters in the future but without a great deal of detail in that outline. Sure, she might have already developed a pretty fair history for each of her main characters but I don't think she had yet developed the overarching plot of the seven-novel series yet. For example, I think it's indisputable that Jo knew Harry and Voldemort would one day face each other in a battle to the death (she introduces their enmity right at the beginning but does not resolve it at the end of the first book so she must have been planning more and she made it clear that students attended Hogwarts for seven years) but I doubt she had worked out the relationships between James, Lily, Sirius, Remus, Peter and Severus at that point and I simply cannot believe that she had planned the whole Deathly Hallows subplot;
• Rowling wrote The Chamber of Secrets grateful for the success of the first and more confident that she would be permitted to write the entire series;
• By the time she was writing The Prisoner, she knew that the world-wide success of the first two books would give her license to do what she wanted with the series and, as she wrote that third book, she began to plant much stronger, more clear seeds of what was to come in the future books.

As you no doubt are aware, Alan Rickman, the actor who portrayed Snape so memorably in the Harry Potter films, recently passed away and, after this death, it came out that he only accepted the role because, apparently, there were only three books completed at that time (so he didn't know he was enrolling himself in an eight-film commitment) and because Rowling herself told him that there would be more to the character of Snape than was being displayed in those first three novels. In fact, I believe that Rowling herself confirmed that she told Rickman, at that time, what Snape would mean when he told Dumbledore that his patronus would "always" be a doe like Lily's.


Again, I think sometimes Rowling grants herself some license to rewrite history in her recent interviews on Harry Potter but I think, from this particular situation, we can assume that she had worked out, after completing the third novel, much of the Snape-Lily relationship and the sacrifice that went with it.


Further, the end of The Prisoner contains some of the most important seeds that would later grow into key factors in the future of the series.


First, we meet Sirius Black, a character who would play a foundational role in later books. Even more than that, his family is central (in fact, ubiquitous) in the entire Voldemort/Potter story. We learn that, though he is universally believed to be evil, he is in fact good (hmm, sounds familiar, doesn't it Snape lovers?). We also see him forced to flee and put himself into hiding.


Second, we meet Buckbeak, the Hypogriff. Once again, a character who is assumed to be evil but we know to be innocent. Buckbeak too is on the run and he too will play an important role in a later book.


Third, we meet Peter Pettigrew and see Harry spare his life. In a moment of almost (and I mean almost) over-the-top foreshadowing, Dumbledore tells Harry that 1) Voldemort would not like to find out that one of his main servants owes a debt to our young hero and 2) that Pettigrew's debt to Harry will one day be a very important factor in how things play out.


Fourth, we hear the second real prophecy ever delivered by Professor Trelawney, who tells Harry that Pettigrew will escape, join the Dark Lord and help him return to power.


So I think it's pretty clear that, by the time she completed The Prisoner of Azkaban, Rowling had a clear roadmap in her mind for the later books. It still begs the question: at what point prior to the third novel's completion did she start to fill in the details?

Why is Hermione upset when she misses Charms?

A couple of months ago, I wrote in this space about the trap that is time travel. It seems at first like a pretty fun and clever device: create a way for your characters to travel back and forth in time and then watch the fun ensue.

But, if you look at the concept too closely, if you explore the possible consequences of time travel on your narrative, you really might want to think twice before you employ it.

As much as I love The Prisoner of Azkaban -- it is, in fact, my favourite of both the books and the films -- I still believe that the introduction of the possibility of time travel to the Harry Potter universe  in this third novel is an strategic and dramatic error on the part of author.

The following passage from about two-thirds through the book jumped out at me recently as I listened to the Jim Dale audiobook version of The Prisoner:

Hermione was sitting at a table, fast asleep, her head resting on an open Arithmancy book. They [Ron and Harry] went to sit down on either side of her. Harry prodded her awake. 

'Wh-what?' said Hermione, waking with a start, and staring wildly around. 'Is it time to go? W-which lesson have we got now?' 

'Divination, but it's not for another twenty minutes,' said Harry. 'Hermione, why didn't you come to Charms?' 

'What? Oh no!' Hermione squeaked. 'I forgot to go to Charms!'

Hermione laments this mistake for some time, to the point where she brings it up later, having found out that Cheering Charms might just be on the exam.

"So what?" you ask. "It's a fun scene. It's neat to see Hermione not quite in control for once!"

And yes, it is an interestingly little scene, intended both to show Hermione in a more vulnerable situation and to pique our interest: just what is up with our favourite witch?

But think about it a little more deeply. We learn later that Hermione is in possession of a time turner, which permits her to travel back in time to attend several classes that are scheduled at the same time. She has been using it all year. As we learn at the start of term, she uses it on one day each week so that she can attend Divination at 9 a.m., then go back in time to attend Muggle Studies at 9 a.m., then travel back in time again to attend Arithmancy, again at 9 a.m.

Once she learns she has missed Charms class in this scene, why doesn't she just excuse herself, travel back in time and attend the class? Rather than freaking out and feeling unprepared for the exam, why not use the time turner, as she has done all year, to travel back and go to Charms?

And then you have to ask yourself: why is Hermione so tired? With the time turner, she could easily travel back in time once she's finished her homework each evening in order to go to bed at an appropriate hour so that she is well rested for the next day.

Say she studies until 3 a.m.. Fine. At 3 a.m., she spins the time turner six times, goes back to 9 p.m., and goes to bed. A good night's sleep follows and all is well!

Of course, if Hermione were to go just that, if she were to re-live an average of eight hours every day in order to keep up with her classes, her homework and her sleep, she would end up significantly older (about four months older) than the others at the end of the school year. Would that make a difference in their lives? Would the others notice?

I'm not sure but, because of the introduction of time travel, these are questions that have to be asked.

And they are just minor questions, raised by the brief scene reproduced above. As I've mentioned before, why doesn't Hermione go back in time far enough to stop Voldemort in the first place? Or at least to the point where Peter Pettigrew/Scabbers is easy to catch?

What a wonderful thing an animagus is...

Let's talk for a moment about animaguses. (Or are they "animagi"?)

We learn some things about animagi throughout the course of J.K.'s seven-book adventure but, to be honest, not a whole lot.

We know, for example, that Minerva McGonagall is an animagi and her animal form is a cat. We know that, for the most part, animagi are born not created but we also learn that James Potter (stag), Sirius Black (dog) and Peter Pettigrew (rat) somehow managed to transform themselves into animagi while at Hogwarts.

We learn from Hermione's research that, for some reason, animagi are required to register themselves with the Ministry of Magic, complete with a description of their animal forms. It would appear that failing to register oneself is an offence, subject to some pretty hefty punishment.

Finally, we know that Rita Skeeter is also an unregistered animagus who takes the form of a beetle.And that Skeeter is so afraid of being turned in to the Ministry that she is willing to give up her career and fall into destitution rather than face the punishment for being an unregistered animagus.

Interestingly, like McGonagall, Skeeter's "animal" form has markings on it that represent her glasses. I have to admit, I find that strange since, if McGonagall and Skeeter were born animagi, why would their animal form have markings representing human-made devices that they acquire some time after their birth?

There are a lot of other questions about animagi that I have as well.

As I am now reading The Goblet of Fire, however, the one that currently stands out in my mind is what determines the animal form any particular animagus might take.

And what relationship does that animal form have to your true nature?

Okay, so I have two questions that stand out.

The questions are both, obviously, related. And here is my proposal as to the answers.

First, I believe that the animal form of a natural born animagus is innate within that person. I mean, they're too young to make any kind of decision anyway so it must come from somewhere, right? The fact that the annoying, buzzing Rita Skeeter is a beetle seems to bear this out, doesn't it? You could argue further that McGonagall has cat-like tendencies.

This suggests the answer to the second question: the animal form is clearly related to, and a commentary on, the person's character.

But what about the created animagi? I believe Sirius tells Harry, Hermione and Ron during their pivotal confrontation in the Shrieking Shack in The Prisoner of Azkaban that he and James chose animal forms that were big and strong enough to be safe in the presence of Remus Lupin when he was a werewolf. So it was a choice, plain and simple.

It was natural for James to become a stag in his animal form since it is both big and strong and it matches the form of his corporeal patronus. So that might mean that Sirius' patronus would take the form of a dog but I don't think we ever see it, do we?

And what do we make of Peter Pettigrew? Would he really consciously have chosen to be a rat? I mean, a rat is a rat, after all. It's considered vermin by most people and likely to be killed on sight in many situations. Further, it doesn't have much of an ability to defend itself physically from attack, nor would it be safe in the presence of a werewolf.

Pettigrew's animal form seems more of a match for his treacherous character than the result of a sound, conscious decision. Yet, if the above analysis is true, Peter chose to be a rat. Hmmm... maybe he was already aware, while hanging out at Hogwarts with James, Sirius and Remus, that he would someday need to hide.

I have to admit, I don't think I'd be very happy if I were Rita Skeeter either. I mean, how safe is it to be a beetle out there in the world. There you are, flying up to the top of the tower to listen in on Harry's Divination class and suddenly a swallow darts out of nowhere and chomps you down in a single bite!

Scary. It's a wonderful she lasted so long.

"The Riddle House" opens the fourth book with a bang

I'm just getting back to reading HP, after spending the past six weeks doing my Christmas reading, and it's The Goblet of Fire that's next on the list.

Although this is not my all-time favourite Harry Potter novel, it does feature one of my favourite beginnings. "The Riddle House" is almost like a short story unto itself, focusing on the events in Little Hangleton exclusively, with the narrator positioned for once far away from Harry himself.

It's a neat little chapter. Through first the town's people and then Frank Bryce, the gardener, we get our first chance to experience Voldemort from a more objective, Muggle point of view. And it's interesting to see that Frank is not at first terrified of the intruders he finds in the Riddle House. It is only when Nagini slithers past that he begins to feel any real fear.

I think it's a beautifully written passage, one that contains a great deal of information that will be very important later on, both in the book itself and throughout the rest of the series. We learn, even if we are not fully aware of it, about Tom Riddle's past, about how he murdered his parents and how he allowed an innocent person to take the blame. It's a pattern he would use often in his life.

I particularly like the portrayal of Frank Bryce himself. Rowling introduces him first as the suspect in the murders and she uses both Bryce's own odd behaviours and the responses of the townspeople to the news that he has been arrested to attempt to convince us that he is indeed guilty. It is a common trope in literature to use a physical disability as a sign of an interior, moral defect and Rowling uses that trope to good effect here.

Bryce must be guilty because, well, he's strange and he has a physical disability and he was never right since he returned from the war.

And, even though the police find themselves forced to release him without pressing charges, we still want to believe, as the villagers believe, that he is in fact guilty anyway.

It's another example of one of Rowling's greatest strengths as a writer: the ability to manipulate how we, as readers, read, react and respond to her characters in a very subtle way, to get us convinced in our impressions only then to undermine those impressions in equally subtle ways.

We believe Frank Bryce must be guilty. Or, rather, if we did not know that we were dealing with a world filled with dark, dark magic, we would believe that Frank Bryce must be guilty.

And, in the course of "The Riddle House", we almost forget that this is, indeed, a world filled with magic and that these are, in fact, Voldemort's father and grandparents who are discovered dead in their dining room. We start to believe in the guilt of Frank Bryce.

And then J.K. shows us Frank in action. She lets us in on his thought processes as he stands in the hallway, listening to Voldemort and Peter Pettigrew discuss, in an almost offhand way, the capture, torture and murder of Bertha Jorkins.

Frank Bryce, the person the village was convinced murdered three people years before, stands in the hallway absolutely appalled that Voldemort and Pettigrew could discuss committing a murder in such a casual manner, almost with amusement.

And just when we begin to respect Frank Bryce and his morality, his courage, when we begin to like him...

Voldemort turns and kills him.

And then, at the end of this wonderful little vignette, Rowling picks up the threat that leads us back to Harry Potter and the central story.

It's wonderful writing. It's Rowling at her best. And it's an early sign that J.K.'s writing talents extend beyond her amazing Harry Potter stories.

Why I think The Prisoner is the best book of the bunch

I haven't posted anything in a while (probably my longest break this year, though I may be wrong on that) due to the simple fact that I am struggling with what I want to say about Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.

I just finished re-reading this the third novel in J.K. Rowling's series last week and thought immediately, "I have to blog about this book". But when I sat down at the keyboard, time and again, words failed me. Why? Because I was struggling to convey just how much I like this book.

For me, The Prisoner of Azkaban is the best of the seven novels. I've read them all enough times to be able to say this with some conviction. Expressing the "why" is by far the tougher challenge.

And, instead of attempting to write paragraph after paragraph extolling the virtues of this novel, its plot and characters, the writing style, etc., I think it might be simpler if I reduced it all down to a list.

So here are the ten reasons I think The Prisoner of Azkaban is the best of Rowling's seven excellent novels:

1. It is the last of the shorter books, which means you can read the whole thing in a brief period of time, in one sitting almost, and get the absolute most intense reading experience from it;

2. It is the first of the more "adult" books in the series; whereas The Philosopher's Stone and The Chamber of Secrets are clearly childrens' books, with simple plots and a great deal of time spent (deliciously) wondering at the magical world into which Harry is suddenly thrust, The Prisoner of Azkaban sets a terrifically complex, subtle and often terrifying adult story in a magical world we already know, with which we are already comfortable;

3. It tells an exceptionally exciting tale of its own but also starts to set the stage for later novels. From first page to last, a shadow (of the Grim, really) looms over Harry and, with her characteristic flair for misdirection, Rowling makes us feel the tension build as Sirius Black slinks closer and closer to our hero. On the flip side, however, Rowling lays down important building blocks for the return of Voldemort, with Trelawney's eerie prediction and Peter Pettigrew's final escape.

4. The novel introduces two extremely important characters who will play significant roles in Harry's life from now to the end of the series: Remus Lupin and Sirius Black;

5. The book stakes philosophical ground in the discussion of good and evil, of perception and truth, that will have reverberations throughout the rest of the novels;

6. The Prisoner of Azkaban gives Hermione her first real chance to shine, to prove herself a worthy heroine to stand beside Harry and Ron, while still not losing that part of her that made her interesting in the first place: her commitment to education, intellect and rationality, even in the face of the scorn of her friends;

7. The book gives us our first real glimpse of the lives of Harry's parents, both through the characters who knew them (Black, Lupin, Snape, Rosemerta, McGonagall, Hagrid, et al) and through Harry's horrific recollection of his parents' last moments alive, a recollection that Rowling carefully builds in each successive encounter with the Dementors;

8. The novel gives us our first real indication that Harry could be a truly great wizard. His perfection of the Patronus Charm, a piece of truly advanced magic, shows us that he does, in fact, have it within him to take on the challenges we are starting to realise lie in wait for him;

9. The book deals with the issue of time in an interesting way, creating a truly memorable set of climactic scenes; and

10. The Prisoner of Azkaban gives us our first warning that Rowling doesn't intend to make Harry's life, nor ours as readers of the series, easy. There are some gruesome scenes in this book and some very violent passages: I find Harry's recollections of his parents' murders incredibly effective, serving notice that we're not reading simple childrens' books any more.

I know. I will probably now read The Goblet of Fire, The Order of the Phoenix and the other books again and declare that each one, in turn, is the best. But right now I have to say that The Prisoner of Azkaban is the standard bearer in the Harry Potter series.

Do you agree? What's your favourite Harry Potter novel and why? Use the Comments function to tell me your thoughts.

My six favourite creatures with names

Six days left. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2, is less than a week away. I offer my six favourite creatures with names from J.K. Rowling's books in recognition of the six remaining days of waiting:

6. Buckbeak/Witherwings, the Hippogriff;
5. Fluffy, the three-headed dog;
4. Errol, the Weasley's battered old owl;
3. Trevor, Neville's oft-escaping toad;
2. Hedwig, Harry's loyal snowy owl; and, finally,
1. Fawkes, the Phoenix, who saves Harry in book two and laments Albus Dumbledore at the end of book six.

There were many others who could have made the list: Crookshanks, Pig, Padfoot, Scabbers (well, not really, since he turned out to be the evil Peter Pettigrew), Hermes, Aragog, Arnold (the pygmy puff) and Norbert/Norberta. I'm sure there are others but I just can't think of them right now.