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!

It's not all about you, mate

In honouring Snape, Harry hoped in his heart that he too would be forgiven. The deaths at the Battle of Hogwarts would haunt Harry forever.

So stated J.K. Rowling in a tweet response to the argument over why Harry and Ginny would name one of their children, at least in part, after Severus Snape.


Whenever I read the later Harry Potter books, I just wish someone had pulled Harry aside and said, as clearly as possible, "Look mate, this is NOT all and only about you. No one is sacrificing themselves for you. This is a battle over our freedom; this is a battle of good versus evil. Just because you happen to have been placed at the centre of it, that doesn't mean we are fighting and dying for or because of you. Stop trying to make this all about you."


Ron makes a speech like this in the first part of The Deathly Hallows film and it is one of the very few things about that film that I actually like.


Because a speech like that needed to be made. Harry needed to get off his high horse and realize that the war was much bigger than him. He needed to understand that the battle was not all about him, any victory was not to his credit alone and any defeat did not fall entirely on his shoulders.


I read quotes like the one at the top of this entry from Rowling and I wonder what she really feels:


1. Is she making the point that Harry is a flawed individual, with a bit of an egotistical streak, who actually continues to believe that this was all about him and that, therefore, he is responsible for the "deaths at the Battle of Hogwarts" such that he needs to be forgiven for them? or


2. Does she, as the author, truly believe that he requires forgiveness? That the battle and the deaths were his fault?


I trust... I sincerely hope that the first possibility is true.

Percy Weasley and the capacity to joke (or recognise one)

"Percy wouldn't recognise a joke if it danced naked in front of him wearing Dobbie's tea-cosy." Ron Weasley, The Goblet of Fire.

"You're joking, Perce... You actually are joking, Perce... I don't think I've heard you joking since you were..." Fred Weasley, The Deathly Hallows.

One of the joys in listening to the Harry Potter audio books is that I am forced to work my way through the unabridged novels at a set rate of speed. Since I cannot rush through the slow parts, or skim sections I believe I remember, or get so caught up in the action that I speed-read through entire chapters, I am catching little details that I have missed in my many past readings of the books.

Like the line from Ron as he, Harry and Hermione leave the kitchens of Hogwarts after visiting Dobbie and Winky, the free house elves.

Talk about consistency. Rowling gives Ron this throw-away line in book four, making fun of his elder brother for his lack of a sense of humour, and then, three full books (and about 2,500 pages later), she circles back, picks up this thread and stitches it into a key moment in the climax of the entire series.

It's really quite awesome.

Yes, I admire Hermione as a literary character

I have to admit, I am delighted that J.K. Rowling has decided to use her latest Harry Potter storylet to assign to Hermione a more clear, more public future.

Don't get me wrong. I have absolutely nothing against the idea of a man or a woman deciding that his or her best destiny is to commit his/her life to staying home to raise a family. One of the people I admire most in this world, my mother, did exactly that.

But I did indeed feel a somewhat disappointed when I read the Epilogue of The Deathly Hallows for the first time and discovered that Rowling had given no indication of a public life for Hermione.

Hermione is a singularly fine character in the Harry Potter books. She is moral and ethical and hard working. She is, in many ways, the conscience of the male characters in the book and, at times, her fastidious devotion to rules makes her the object of appropriate teasing.

She is caring and nurturing and lovely to her friends and to strangers too.

On the other hand, however, Hermione is much much more. She is brilliant and creative and brave. She is eloquent and clever and thoughtful.

She is witty and fun.

She is one of my favourite characters in literature. Where I find Harry often a little bit overwrought and Ron sometimes silly and unlikeable, Hermione is well described and well rounded. She is a fully realized human being, with both strengths and weaknesses. She is real and believable, an amazing accomplishment in an imaginative world of magic.

If there is one thing I find hard to accept, it is that Hermione ends up with Ron.

But at least she ends up, thanks to J.K.'s new article, with a future befitting of her, as a wife, a mother and a public leader.

Who's right for Hermione? Don't ask Rowling

If we ever needed proof that author J.K. Rowling has lost track of her own Harry Potter books and gotten caught up, instead, in the often mediocre movies that have been made of them, her recent interview with actress Emma Watson provides it.

Rowling told Watson that, upon further reflection, she now realises that Hermione should have married Harry, not Ron. The announcement has sent the entire Potter fandom into a collective tizzy.

To state it bluntly, Rowling appears to be losing her mind. Or at least her grip on the books she wrote and that we all love.

That is not to say that I ever really liked the idea that Hermione ended up married to Ron. As far as I'm concerned, Hermione, brilliant, hard-working and moral, was too good for any of the young male characters she met at Hogwarts.

Ron, intellectually limited, lacking in simple courage and morally questionable, certainly didn't deserve her.

In fact, I still believe that Hermione's destiny was either to become a renowned magical researcher, developing new spells and potions, exploring the limits of magic, or to teach at Hogwarts (probably while conducting the research I mention above). If she eventually settled down into a relationship, it would be with a person we have never yet met in the books, someone as smart and moral as she is.

Marrying and settling down into a traditional family unit just doesn't seem right for her.

That being said, if Hermione were to marry and have children, I don't buy Harry as a better choice than Ron. Harry is not particularly bright and, as he explains in The Order of the Phoenix, most of his successes were based on luck, timing and the help of others.

All of that aside, however, I am more troubled by the fact that Rowling seems to be so caught up in the Harry Potter movies that she has lost track of her own books.

Her suggestion that Hermione should have ended up with Harry ignores so much textual evidence from the books that I can't even start to explain it here. It appears to be based almost entirely on the belief that Harry and Hermione, as they are portrayed in the films, look well together.

Daniel Ratcliffe and Emma Watson were wonderful choices to play the roles of Harry and Hermione but, as Rowling herself has already admitted, they turned out to be much more attractive than the characters they were chosen to portray. So, if they look well together on screen, that has no meaning when it comes to their fitness as potential life partners.

It is also true that the movies expunged most of the back-story for the Harry-Hermione friendship, making it possible to read much more into their relationship than is actually there in the stories.

Anyway, my simple point is that the suggestion that Hermione should have married Harry instead of Ron holds a lot more water if you are thinking about the movies alone than if you consider the books themselves.

It amazes me that J.K. Rowling, of all people, lost sight of that fact

Understanding Hermione at an early point in their friendship

One of the things that impresses me most about J.K.'s writing is how good she is at having her characters develop self-awareness realistically.

O.K. That was a bit of a complicated sentence to go with the complex thought.

Let me start again. I am impressed with the way J.K. shows her characters learning about themselves and about each other. She does it in such a realistic way and it adds a great deal to our enjoyment, as readers, of her books.

Yes, that seems a simpler way of expressing the thought.

Here's an example of what I mean:

Late in The Chamber of Secrets, as the hero trio makes their way to a quidditch match against Hufflepuff, Harry hears the Basilisk's voice for the first time in several months. He jumps but Hermione and Ron hear nothing. This leads to an epiphany for Hermione.

"I think I've just understood something," she exclaims. "I've got to go to the library!"

And she sprints away without explaining further.

A great moment. A classic Hermione moment. We as readers register it as just that: a classic Hermione moment. And, thanks to Rowling's creativity as a writer, so do Ron and Harry.

Harry asks, "What does she understand?" and Ron replies, "Loads more than I do."

It's a laugh out loud moment. But it's so true. Even though we are only about a book and three quarters into the story, we know that Hermione understands loads more than do Harry or Ron.

In her genius, however, Rowling doesn't just leave it there. She follows up with the self-awareness piece-de-resistance. Harry says to Ron, "By why's she got to go to the library?"; Ron's response captures the essence of the character of their friend:

"Because that's what Hermione does," he says. "When in doubt, go to the library."

Wonderful. True. And oh so real. It would become a running joke of the novels that Hermione turns to her books or to the Hogwarts library whenever a question arises that she cannot answer instantly.

And I think it's absolutely fitting that, in this particular moment of The Chamber of Secrets, Ron would voice this understanding of Hermione's character out loud.

Wondering about Mr. Weasley's wonderful Ford Anglia

What ever happened to Mr. Weasley's car?

 If I recall correctly (and I haven't quite gotten there in my re-reading of The Chamber of Secrets), the enchanted Ford Anglia that carried Harry and Ron to Hogwarts and rescued them from Aragog's family disappears into the Forbidden Forest late in that novel.

But what happens to it then?

I have to admit, I'm quite surprised that J.K. didn't find some way to bring it back one more time in one of the later novels, at least to give us some hint of how things turn out for this memorable vehicle.

I loved that car. It starts off all innocent as simply a vehicle magically bewitched to fly. Then we find out it is remarkably spacious inside. Then it flies all the way to Hogarts on a single tank of gas (gas?). Finally, its full personality comes out when it flings the boys and their belongings out and escapes the Whomping Willow on its own.

We shouldn't be surprised when this gritty little car comes back to save Harry and Ron from the kingdom of the spiders. That's one feisty automobile.

I wonder what became of it. Certainly Voldemort didn't tame it when he and his Death Eaters took over the Forest in Book Seven. It makes no appearance as a slave to the Dark Lord.

I like to think it took off to the seaside, found a nice garage and lived out its life in peace. What do you think?

Early perceptions of Arthur Weasley and the family's poverty

I like Arthur Weasley, Ron's father. I really do. I think he is an admirable character with mostly the right motives. It turns out that he's fun and he's kind and, despite his mild manner, extremely brave.

And I think it's interesting the way J.K. uses the relative poverty of his family to create tension, especially when it comes to Ron's misbehaviours in school. Just about every time Ron gets into trouble, the issue of his father losing his job comes up with the ruin of the family looming behind it.

But there's a scene involving Arthur Weasley early in The Chamber of Secrets that makes me uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. Every time I read it, I cringe.

Rowling includes a number of scenarios in the first fifty pages of the book to show just how poor the Weasleys are, from Fred and George worrying about how their parents will be able to afford all the expensive books on their school reading lists to descriptions of the Burrow that focus on its shabbiness to the fact that they will have to buy most of Ginny's school things second-hand for her first year at Hogwarts.

Things come to a head (for the reader and for Harry) when they all arrive at Gringotts. Rowling reports that Harry "felt dreadful, far worse than he had in Knockturn Alley, when [the Weasleys' vault] was opened. There was a very small pile of silver Sickles inside and just one gold Galleon. Mrs Weasley felt right into the corners before sweeping the whole lot into her bag."

It is very clear that the Weasleys are poor and that every Knut they have will be spent buying school supplies for their five children who are still at Hogwarts. It's even clearer that, despite committing every Knut, they will still be forced to buy most things second hand, resulting, for example, in Ginny heading off for her first year at school with "a very old, very battered copy of A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration."

And there's nothing wrong with that. Most families have to economise in some ways and we can all respect that the Weasleys, including their children, are content to spend what money they have on important things (like helping Harry, supporting each other, etc.) even at the sacrifice of their own interests.

What bothers me is this: moments after Molly sweeps every last Knut they can lay claim to into her bag to buy second-hand supplies for her kids, Arthur Weasley feels no compunction about "taking the Grangers [Hermione's parents] off to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink" so that he can satisfy his curiosity about Muggles. He's ready to spend some of that desperately needed money at the pub even as his wife works very hard to see to the needs of their children with what's left.

Maybe it's because of my own background but I find this decision by Arthur very distasteful. He's basically putting his own personal interests ahead of those of the rest of his family. I know, most readers probably read through that section without any concerns but it just hit me as a problem the first time I read it and has stood out for me ever since.

Of course, it probably had a greater impact on me the first time I read The Chamber of Secrets because, at that point, I was just meeting Arthur for the first time. If you take this incident and add it to the other early hints that Arthur is not necessarily as supportive of his wife and family as he could be (hiding Muggle relics in the shed, putting spells on them at the risk of his own job, failing to recognise that the boys' decision to take the car and rescue Harry could have a serious impact on the entire family so that their behaviour should be the subject of discipline rather than interest and delight), you start with a decidedly negative view of this man and his commitment to his family.

Thankfully, of course, we learn as we finish reading the second book and continue into the later novels that Arthur Weasley is a thoroughly likable, honourable and committed character. But, for me at least, these first glimpses are not particularly positive.

A couple of other thought pop into mind as we read these early descriptions of the Weasley family's financial challenges:
1. Why would they buy Ginny a used copy of a textbook that Ron, Fred, George, Percy and likely the two older brothers have all had to buy as well? Why not just pass their copies down to her?
2. Where did they get the money for Ginny's wand? We know that Ron's is a hand-me-down but we get no explanation as to where Ginny's wand comes from. We learned from Harry's trip to Ollivanders in Book One that a new wand can cost seven gold Galleons so how could the Weasleys afford a new one for Ginny?
3. I find it very believable, but also very tragic, that Harry at twelve is incapable of doing anything but feel shame when he compares his own loaded bank vault with the empty one of the Weasleys. If he were older and more mature, he probably could have found ways to deal with his shame by contributing to their family economy, perhaps by paying board for the times he stayed with them or purchasing a load of groceries or something. It becomes less of an issue as the novels progress, of course. I would guess that, as Charlie and Bill develop their careers, they begin to send money back to their parents to alleviate their financial stresses.

Ron starts Hogwarts at a significant disadvantage

I'm wondering if maybe Ron Weasley was at a bit of an unfair disadvantage in his first couple of years at Hogwarts. Even more so than is at first obvious.

Why? Because of his wand.

As he admits to Harry in their important first meeting on the Hogwarts Express, Ron is using "Charlie's old wand". Rowling later describes it as "a very battered looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end." That something white, Ron explains, is the unicorn-hair core poking out.

Two reasons this might be a problem for Ron: first, because it is clear that this wand did not choose Ron as its master; and, second, because of the damage this wand has suffered even before it is broken at the start of The Chamber of Secrets (when the flying car is attacked by the Whomping Willow, Ron's wand is one of the casualties).

Remember what Ollivander said to Harry when our hero bought his own wand? "And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand." As we learn later, this simple rule is not entirely accurate; in fact, the full rule is that you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand, unless you win its loyalty by defeating its owner.

But Ron is using a borrowed wand from the day he starts at Hogwarts. His magical power is already inhibited by the fact that his wand did not choose him, that he is using "another wizard's wand."

Charlie, at some point, bought (and was chosen by) a new wand and Ron is left with his sloppy seconds. I doubt Ron "defeated" Charlie at any point, although it is possible that the Weasley's knew enough to have a pre-Hogwarts Ron disarm Charlie so that the wand transferred its allegiance to the little boy.

That's an interesting thought, to be honest. Hmmm...

The second factor, the damage, is not so easily dismissed. There is evidence throughout the novels that a damaged wand will not function as well as one in good condition. Recall the horror Ollivander displays when he realises that Hagrid might be attempting to use his own broken wand (and Hagrid's own inept spellcasting with the damaged wand). Remember how much worse Ron's own wand performs after it is further damaged by the Whomping Willow.

And think about the scene in The Goblet of Fire when the four Tri-Wizard Champions present their wands for inspection prior to the beginning of the competition. Dumbledore explains that Ollivander will examine their wands "to ensure that they are in good condition before the Tournament." The implication is that, if a wand has been damaged in any way, it might not perform properly and would, therefore, be a danger to its owner.

Ron's wand is already rather badly damaged ("battered" is the term J.K. uses to describe it) when he arrives at Hogwarts. In its battered state, it probably can't perform as well for Ron as a new wand that had chosen him would.

It's no wonder Ron struggles in his first two years at Hogwarts. It's only after his parents buy him a new wand in the summer before his third year that he has an instrument through which his magical power can be properly channeled: a new wand, in perfect condition, that has chosen him.

"Why do you read these kids' books?" asks the Bully

So what do you do with the people who tell you that the Harry Potter books are just for kids?

People who just don't get how an adult like you can enjoy the books (and movies, perhaps) so much that you read them over and over again, you talk about them with anyone who will listen, you write (heavens forbid!) a blog about the books, movies and their characters?

I've been dealing with a little bit of that at work lately. I don't want to call it Bullying but it has some of the same nastiness to it. This person just can't understand why J.K. Rowling's books appeal to me so much. He wants to attribute my love of all things Potter to some defect in my character, my maturity, my intellectual development.

And he just won't listen to any explanation I try to give him.

I've decided to put his behaviour down to his own insecurities. He can't allow himself to enjoy anything that might be considered "different" by the men he hangs out with because he's not secure enough in himself to stand up to them.

I know. I know. I'm beginning to sound like a bad episode of Frasier, aren't I?

If this guy would actually listen to me, this is what I would say:

1. I enjoy Harry Potter because the books are extremely well written, the characters are interesting and the stories exciting;

2. I read thebooks over and over again because I get something new out of them every time I read a book, some new nuance to the story or the characters, some insight into J.K.'s philosophy, or some new appreciation for the writing;

3. I read the books because they explore interesting themes and ideas in fascinating ways, they use this invented world of magic to examine our own world in a different light; and

4. I read the books because the characters feel like family and the settings are like a place to escape from the trials of my own life.

Do you think these responses would make sense to him? Satisfy him even?

How would you answer his questions?

Christmas at St. Mungo's: A view into Neville's life

I often wonder if J.K. has favourite scenes in the books. You know, sections that she feels particularly proud of, that she was surprised by when she re-read a book years later, that she felt really worked.

Of course, that raises a second question: does J.K. even go back and re-read her own novels at all? You and I read and re-read them constantly but does she?

As you all know, I have any number of favourite scenes in Harry Potter, both in the books and in the films. And, every time I read a novel again, I find a new passage to appreciate.

I am just finishing a re-read of The Order of the Phoenix, a book that I find very difficult. Harry just endures so much in this novel that I find it hard to read.

But I have to marvel at how beautifully Rowling portrays the scene at Christmas in the Closed Ward of St. Mungo's, the one where Harry, Hermione and Ron encounter Neville and his grandmother and then, heart-rendingly, Neville's mother.

There is so much going on in this scene:

- Harry, who has known about Neville's parents for some time, trying to make the encounter as harmless as possible for Neville;
- Ron showing his genuine pleasure at seeing Neville, not understanding at first why Neville finds the meeting quite upsetting;
- Hermione catching on to Neville's discomfort very quickly but also having to deal with her own surprise and anxiety that Neville's grandmother knows all about her;
- Neville's Gran, pleased to meet his friends, attempting to remain strong in the face of the terrible damage done to her son and daughter-in-law, proud of who they were and what they fought for, and attempting to address Neville's mixed emotions about his parents and their current state;
- and finally Neville, himself, embarassed, anxious, feeling inadequate, yet still loyal and committed to his parents and wishing to prove himself worthy of being their son.

The entire scene lasts all of two pages in the book and yet Rowling succeeds in communicating so much about each character in that brief period.

All of which is beautifully brought to a conclusion with Gran telling Neville to throw away the candy wrapper his mother has given him and Neville, quietly and without fanfare, slipping the gift instead into his pocket, a treasured memento from his mom.

I think J.K. has reason to be really proud of this short passage with Neville and his grandmother. I wonder if she is able to read her books and recognise these little gems as well.

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.

Rushing past the hints Rowling gives us

It's funny to be re-reading the opening chapters of The Prisoner of Azkaban, knowing so well how the plot develops.

Everywhere you turn in the opening chapters of this book is Ron's rat, Scabbers, who ends up playing such a large part in the plot in the latter stages of the novel. He's in the Daily Prophet's photo of the Weasley family in Egypt, he's front and centre in the scene where Harry first encounters Hermione and Ron in Diagon Alley, Crookshanks attacks him in the pet store and, just to make sure we're aware of him, the pet shop owner actually tells us that it is highly unusual for a rat to have lived as long as he has.

So why is that, when I first read this novel, I didn't pick up on this sudden focus on Scabbers and recognise that he would play such a big role in the novel?

It's amazing, I think, how our mind works when we read. A skilled writer can give us all sorts of hints and clues about what's to come and yet, unless we're extremely observant, we just flow right past them.

Remember, in The Philosopher's Stone, how Rowling is very careful to tell us that Hermione bowls Professor Quirrell over as she rushes to distract Snape during the Quidditch match? Same thing happened to us there: we're so caught up in the action, so quick to accept the conclusions that the characters draw from the evidence before them, that we miss the hints J.K. gives us about what is really true.

It's good writing. And it makes re-reading the novels even more interesting.

Prefects and House Points

In The Chamber of Secrets, when Percy finds Ron, Harry and Hermione sneaking out of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, he takes five points from Gryffindor for their inappropriate behaviour. Interesting: Prefects can deduct points in the House Cup competition.

This raises three questions for me:

1) can Prefects also award points for good behaviour?
2) can Prefects deduct or award points from students in other Houses? and
3) if the answer to questions one or two is "yes", what is to stop a Prefect from deducting (or awarding) points so as to change the result in the House Cup competition?

I don't recall another situation where we see a Prefect awarding or deducting points from other students. I certainly don't recall a situation where a Prefect deducts points from a student in another house. For example, when Percy comes across Draco Malfoy (with the Polyjuiced Harry and Ron) in the basement later in the second book, Percy does not deduct points from Draco as a result of Malfoy's insolence towards him.

The whole House Point system is a bit odd to me, to be honest. But more on that for another time.

When Harry Potter was new...

I think I've mentioned my colleague at work before, the one who has seen all of the Harry Potter movies (several times) but had not, at the time of the release of The Deathly Hallows, Part 2, read any of the books.

Well, she tells me now that she's finally taken the plunge into J.K.'s original world, working through the first three novels over the course of a two-week holiday. She says, however, that she finds herself sometimes wishing that she had read the books first, since the movies have robbed the literary plots of much of their suspense. She knows the major events that are coming, even if the novels give so much more depth and character development.

Meanwhile, I envy her that absolute delight of reading the novels for the first time. I don't have much of a recollection of my first readings of novels one through six. All I know is that I roared through each one at breakneck speed the first time, then had to go back to read them over again at a slower pace, with more time to savour the quality of the writing and the intricacies of the story.

I do, however, have a very vivid recollection of the excitement that built up as I, and so many of my friends and colleagues, waited with anxious anticipation for the seventh novel to be released. We would talk about the first six books endlessly and have a seemingly non-stop conversation about what we thought the final novel would bring.

Was Snape truly evil or was Dumbledore right to trust him after all? Would Harry die? What would Draco do in the end? And what about Neville: was it possible that he really was the true Chosen One? Would Hermione and Ron finally get together or would Hermione come to her senses in time?

And when the book finally hit the bookstores, I bought it on the first day and literally disappeared into the world of Rowling for the next forty-eight hours. I galloped through it the first time, slowing only to weep as Harry bravely walked into the Forbidden Forest to face his death. Then I went back and read the last hundred pages or so more slowly, to make sure that I understood, that I recognised the power and beauty of Rowling's writing.

And then I read the novel once more from start to finish. Only then did I feel I could talk about it.

I know my colleague will never be able to feel that level of anticipation, that depth of excitement in the reading. She knows the plots. She has a good idea of the major events.

But I hope she can find a way to immerse herself in the details, find amazement in the ways in which J.K.'s novels are so much better than the films. Enjoy the intense excitement of discovering for the first time just how great these books really are.

And, if she can, I'll envy her every step of the way. My experience of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (both in the anticipation of its release and the intensity of the first couple of readings) was such a rush that I hope I'll find another book someday that will give me something even close to that feeling.

Rowling fools us into suspecting Hagrid

It's interesting the way J.K. gets her readers to believe that Hagrid was guilty of opening the Chamber of Secrets the first time fifty years before the novel of the same name.

She simply shows us Tom Riddle's memory and, despite the fact that it proves absolutely nothing, we believe it to be proof. And then she has Harry, Hermione and Ron fighting very hard not to believe that Hagrid is the culprit but finally convincing themselves (and us) that he is, in fact, guilty.

It's neat writing. By having her characters argue the same points that her readers are arguing, she convinces both them and us. She preempts our doubts by presenting them directly to us through the terrific trio.

And then, once we're completely fooled, she turns the table on us.

Even neater is the fact that, even though she's shown us that she can use this strategy effectively to prove Hagrid guilty when he is, in fact, innocent, we still fall for the same trick with regard to Snape throughout the rest of the novels.

Writers can learn a lot from reading Rowling and paying attention to the strategies she uses to beguile her readers. We can all learn a thing or two from the master.

The Ron-Hermione romance doesn't work on film

I've been trying to figure out why the Hermione-Ron romance is so much more believable to me in the novels than in the films.

I think one reason is that, in the novels, Rowling takes a lot more time to develop their relationship, to show them interacting and drawing closer to each other, so that the major events in their romance (like Hermione crying when Ron is dating Lavender or the big kiss in The Deathly Hallows) don't seem to come so much out of the blue.

I'm thinking, for example, of the many scenes in The Goblet of Fire where Ron reacts with jealousy to Hermione's relationship with Victor Krum. Those scenes didn't make it into the movie.

But I think the most significant reason is physical: the Hermione and Ron, as described by J.K. in the books, fit together. Hermione is a bookish girl with bottle-brush hair and too-big teeth. Ron is a tall, gawky red-head with a big nose. They seem right for each other.

Emma Watson and Rupert Grint, however, don't look well together. Watson is just too classically pretty by the end of the series whereas Grint's handsomeness is more lunky and sheepish. You can see Watson's Hermione ending up with someone like Cedric Diggory (had he lived), an athlete with a ready smile and movie-star looks.

In reality, it's probably a combination of the two factors but the movie relationship just doesn't work for me like the book one does.

Wondering why the Basilisk's body is still there

In the second book, Harry Potter discovers the entrance to the fabled Chamber of Secrets beneath Hogwarts and enters the Chamber to save Ginny Weasley. He must duel both the memory of Tom Riddle and his pet Basilisk to do so. Once he's killed the Basilisk, Harry uses one of its fangs to destroy Riddle's diary, which turns out to be a Horcrux.

Fast forward to the seventh book. Ron and Hermione, realising that they need some magical weapon with which to destroy the remaining Horcruxes, decide to return to the Chamber to fetch more Basilisk fangs. Ron manages to imitate the Parseltongue sounds Harry made to open the entrance, allowing them to fetch the fangs.

Now, in the novel version of The Deathly Hallows, J.K. never describes Hermione and Ron's journey into the Chamber nor what they found there. She simply has them show up a little while later, fangs in hand, to tell Harry what they did.

The film version of the last book, as I've mentioned earlier in this blog, actually lets us travel into the Chamber with Harry's friends. We see the skeletal remains of the Basilisk and watch as Ron pries the fangs from its skull.

Remember, the book Hermione found in the second novel tells us, "Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk" (Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Bloomsbury, p. 215).

My question is this: if the Basilisk is a rare, extremely dangerous species, why wouldn't any of the academic types at Hogwarts (such as the Care of Magical Creatures professors like Hagrid or Grubbly-Plank, Dumbledore or even one of the Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers) have gone down into the Chamber to investigate, examine and likely remove this specimen? Why is it still lying there, virtually untouched, five years later when Ron and Hermione go to find it?

Harry Potter and the Borrowed Wig

I've just watched Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Not a bad movie but not great. I think we lose too much of the Rita Skeeter subplot, which is too bad because Miranda Richardson does such a great job with the role.

The one question I have, though, is: what's up with the hair? Especially the hair on Harry and Ron? Harry looks like he stole Chekov's wig from the original Star Trek series. Seeing as their hair was a lot more conservative in both the previous and following films, I don't get why the Goblet inspires this kind of silliness.

Kloves' Harry-Hermione hug scene is a nice addition

Stephen Kloves invented much of the film's final act, straying quite far from J.K.'s original version in the novels. I have to admit, I'm not altogether happy with much of what Kloves did but I do like one scene: the one where Harry tells Hermione and Ron that he's going into the Forbidden Forest to die.

That's not in the book. Rowling is very careful to make this a personal, lonely decision for Harry. In fact, he admits in the novel that, if he were to stop to tell them, he probably could never gather the will to leave them again. He encounters Neville on his way out of Hogwarts and tells Neville that, whatever happens, the snake (Nagini) must die. He also sees Ginny but chooses not to stop for her. Again, he likely would not be able to go on with what he must do.

It's a moving passage in the book and beautifully written.

Although I don't thank Kloves for straying so far from J.K.'s terrific original, I do think the screenwriter does a nice job in that little scene on the stairs of Hogwarts between Harry and his two best friends.

I can't recall the dialogue word for word but Harry tells them that he has learned he carries of piece of Voldemort's soul. "I guess I've known for quite a while," he says, then turns to Hermione, "and I think you have too." They both finally acknowledge what they each had figured out on their own: that Harry must die.

It's a lovely moment. A true moment between three good friends.

Daniel Radcliffe plays it very well. He's calm, reserved, almost non-chalant when he says it, which is exactly how I think Harry should be. And Emma Watson responds perfectly. As the calm, fairly rational Hermione, she allows her emotions to flare briefly in the hug but makes no effort to talk him out of doing what she knows he must do.

I'm not sure what instructions Rupert Grint got on how to play his part but he tends to drop into the background in this scene. I'm not sure if we're supposed to read that as to mean that Ron doesn't know what they're talking about, doesn't understand what Harry must do, or that he's working hard to contain his emotions by standing back and watching.

Ron does eventually join the other two but not until after the hug is coming to a close.

I think it's a really nice scene. I think it gives us, the viewers, a much needed moment to take part in the emotional relationships of our hero trio, to see in front of us the devastation that Harry's fate causes for them.

Of course, I still think that Rowling's choice (not to have any such scene for the sake of realism and to put the focus on Harry's personal journey) is the more elegant, subtle one.

But I understand why Klove's added this scene. And I enjoyed watching it.