If you enjoyed Secrets of Dumbledore, don't read this post

 The Secrets of Dumbledore introduces us to a long-ignored nephew/son, a new Grindelwald and a whole new magical world that is beyond our dreams and expectations.

The Secrets of Dumbledore does not introduce us to a tight plot, plausible characters or any kind of tension or even consistency with what has gone before.

I want to write that I watched SoD yesterday but I really didn't. After 30 minutes of focused attention, I found myself giving up any hope of finding a film deserving of that attention as the plot meandered, the characters blathered and the special effects took the front seat.

I started tidying up my den. I wandered into a nearby storage room to give it a much needed reorganisation. I talked to my sister on the phone.

This is a boring, lazy, silly film. Filled with scenes that go on much too long, even (long) scenes that aren't required at all. Filled with characters who some must find charming yet serve no real purpose: Jacob Kowalski? Seriously? Bunty Goodacre? Really? Even Newt Scamander is barely tolerable as a character.

I guess some Harry Potter fans are thrilled to see Minerva McGonagall as a young woman for a full 12 seconds. Or to hear familiar names like Rosier, Carrow, and Zabini attached to non-descript characters who appear and then disappear from the screen.

But really... SoD is a disaster.

Please, Jo, please. Stop. Respect the masterpiece you created in the seven Harry Potter books. Let them live on untainted by any more attempts to fill in the backstory, to cash in on the glory.

How many additional family members can you possibly discover? Now it's Aberforth who has an all-powerful child whom he has cast alone into the world.

How many more additional powers can you give to... well, every main character? Originally, wizards and witches, like all humans, were all relatively even in their powers and abilities. Albus Dumbledore, Voldemort, Bellatrix... perhaps a few others rose above the rabble. People with exceptional ability were recruited to be Aurors for the Ministry.

And even those people of exceptional ability, up to and including Albus and Voldemort, faced some limits to what they could accomplish magically.

In this new Fantastic Beasts version of pre-history, nothing is impossible. Nothing is even consistent. And it's maddening.

You worked very hard in the early books to establish what is possible and what is not, magically. To make clear the training required to accomplish even that limited set of possibilities, of how only truly extraordinary people like Albus Dumbledore and Tom Riddle were to be able to rise above and accomplish more. More, sure, but still within limits.

 And now you've just declared open season. There are no limits. And, as a result, there's no drama.

Albus is bound by a blood oath with Grindelwald until, suddenly, he isn't. Why? Apparently because Grindelwald tried to hurt a newly recognised Dumbledore nephew. But Grindy has hurt Credence before. With no apparent impact.

Grindelwald can bring animals back to life (I was waiting with bated breath for the word "Inferi" to be uttered). Dumbledore can create alternative realities in which he battles Credence. Fantastic Beasts can do fantastic things, even if we've never heard of them and their abilities just happen to suit the needs of the particular plot situation.

In the process, all tension, all suspense is undermined. If any major character can accomplish anything, then why should we worry about the outcome? Well, unless we are completely terrified that Newt will not be able to give his best-man speech at the wedding that is the subject of a ridiculous 20-minute epilogue to this already over-long film.

I could go on to talk about the over-the-top, smack you in the face allusions to American politics and the rise of authoritarianism but I think I need to go. Wash my hands. Cleanse SoD from my brain and move on with my life.

Why didn't the Trace give young Tom away?

I still haven't been able to figure out the "Trace" and, to be honest, I'm not sure J.K. has either.

If I recall correctly, the Trace was first mentioned, perhaps not by name, in The Chamber of Secrets when Harry receives a warning from the Ministry after Dobby's infamous Hover Charm that dropped a big frothy dessert on Aunt Marge. As it developed, the Trace is explained as some kind of charm that attaches (automatically?) to underage witches and wizards to permit the Ministry to "trace" when they perform feats of magic outside school and only lifts once the particular person comes of age.

I wonder, by the way, if the Trace is what permits Hogwarts to locate Muggle-borns with magical powers and then invite them to enroll when they become of school age. But that's an aside...

In The Half-Blood Prince, Dumbledore explains to Harry that the Ministry "can detect Magic, but not the perpetrator" -- that the Trace gives Ministry officials notice only that an act of magic has been performed in the vicinity of an underage witch or wizard. If there are adult witches or wizards nearby, the Ministry simply assumes the magical act was performed by an adult and takes no action. Further, Dumbledore tells Harry that the Ministry cannot tell the difference between House Elf magic and human magic, so Harry took the blame for Dobby's Hover Charm.

A lot is made of the Trace in The Deathly Hallows since Harry, who doesn't turn seventeen until his birthday during the summer before seventh year, cannot start his search for the Horcruxes until the Trace is lifted. After his seventeenth birthday, when Harry, Hermione and Ron encounter Death Eaters in the coffee shop immediately after fleeing the Weasley wedding, Hermione wonders whether perhaps the Voldemort-controlled Ministry has found a way to keep the Trace on Harry even though he is now of age.

Ron objects: it's not possible, he says. The lifting of the Trace at 17 is wizarding law.

So that's the stage against which I ask the following question: in the HBP, why did the Ministry not know immediately, via the Trace, that an underage Tom Riddle had performed the three Avada Kedavra spells that killed his father and grand parents?

Dumbledore explains to Harry that the Ministry did not trace young Tom's magical acts in Morfin's presence because they simply assumed the adult wizard (Morfin) had performed them. But he also tells Harry that "we can be fairly sure what happened. Voldemort Stupefied his uncle, took his wand, and proceed across the valley to 'the big house over the way'. There he murdered the Muggle man who had abandoned his mother, and, for good measure, his Muggle grandparents."

Yet, the Ministry failed to recognise that it was young Tom who killed his Muggle parents, an act that was apparently witnessed by no other person, Muggle or Magical. Should not the Trace have made it very clear to the Ministry that the three Avada Kedavra spells were cast by the only magical person in the vicinity, the under-age Tom Riddle?

Is it possible that Tom forced Morfin to accompany him when he visited the Riddle house to commit the murders, thus leading the Ministry to be more ready to blame Morfin? That would have made the act much more difficult to accomplish, especially without attracting notice from passersby, but it would at least address the potential Trace-related issue.

Another side question arises: why would the Ministry not place a Taboo on the three Unforgiveable Curses so that they have instant notice that the curse has been used and can arrest the culprit immediately? Sure, the Taboo likely only works on words that are spoken out loud (rather than simply thought) but I don't recall a single instance when Avada Kedavra is used, for example, that it is used nonverbally.

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.

"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.

The Chamber of Questions: Talking to the Basilisk...

A couple of questions that came to mind as I finished re-reading The Chamber of Secrets:

1. What would have happened if Harry had spoken to the Basilisk in Parseltongue, telling the giant snake not to attack him, to go to sleep, to take up knitting?

2. Since Hagrid has now been completely cleared of opening up the Chamber of Secrets and causing the death of Myrtle 50 years before, why does he not buy a new wand and take private training to become a fully qualified wizard?

I have often wondered about what the Basilisk would have done had Harry started to give it orders in Parseltongue. Clearly, Tom Riddle has control over it, thanks to his mastery of the serpent language, but wouldn't that mean that Harry, also a Parselmouth, could give it commands as well? It's not like Tom Riddle has spent a lot of time developing a relationship with the Basilisk. Could Harry not have at least confused it by countermanding Riddle's orders and substituting some of his own?

It raises the question of whether the ability to speak Parseltongue gives a person control over snakes or simply the power to speak to them. In Harry's first encounter with a snake, at the beginning of Book One, Harry has a conversation in Parseltongue with the Boa Constrictor in the zoo. Harry doesn't give it orders; he simply chats with it.

In his second encounter with a snake, however, Harry orders the snake Draco Malfo conjures not to attack Justin and it immediately obeys him. All Harry has to say is 'Leave him!' and, to quote JK, "miraculously -- inexplicably -- the snake slumped to the floor, docile as a thick black garden hose, its eyes now on Harry."

So what would have happened if Harry had said to the Basilisk, "Lie down", or "Leave me alone", or perhaps "Kill Tom Riddle"? Would the Basilisk have responded? Would it have become confused by being given orders by two different people, such that Harry could have escaped?

It's a wonder Harry didn't try to speak to the Basilisk at all.

With regard to Hagrid, it is one of the main pillars of Hagrid's backstory that he was expelled from Hogwarts while he was still young and, further, that his expulsion led to his wand being broken in half such that he could no longer perform magic properly.

We learn in The Chamber of Secrets, of course, that Hagrid was expelled because he was suspected of having opened the Chamber and letting loose the monster within.

Thanks to Dumbledore, he is allowed to remain at the school as the keeper of keys and grounds. But he is not a wizard, nor is he permitted to carry or use a wand.

So, now that Harry has proven that Hagrid is an innocent victim of Tom Riddle's treachery, why would Hagrid not immediately return to training to be a wizard? Why at least would he not buy a new wand and get back to doing magic properly?

I know it would change a great deal in the last five books but it's always bothered me. The man was cleared of the crime: why does he still have to be subject to one aspect of the punishment for that crime?

Did I miss something along the way? Is there any explanation at all for this in the final five Harry Potter novels?

What did Lucius know about Tom Riddle's diary?

I have open before me two paperback books: the first, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets; the second, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.

Why?

Because I'm comparing passages dealing with Tom Riddle's purpose in re-opening the Chamber from each novel. I had thought I would find discrepancies and inconsistencies between the second book, in which Riddle (through Ginny Weasely and his diary) actually re-opens the Chamber, and the sixth book, in which Dumbledore explains to Harry Horcruxes and what information the Head Master was able to glean from the events from Harry's second year at Hogwarts.

What did I find?

Remarkable consistency.

In the second book, the memory of Tom Riddle tells Harry:

"I decided to leave behind a diary, preserving my sixteen-year-old self in its pages, so that one day, with luck, I would be able to lead another in my footsteps, and finish Salazar Slytherin's noble work."

In the sixth book, Dumbledore explains:

"[The diary] worked as a Horcrux is supposed to work -- in other words, the fragment of soul concealed inside it was kept safe and had undoubtedly played its part in preventing the death of its owner. But there could be no doubt that Riddle really wanted the diary read, wanted the piece of his soul to inhabit or possess somebody else, so that Slytherin's monster would be unleashed again."

Consistent and helpful.

Even more interesting to me is that these passages seem to hint at why Lucius Malfoy would choose the particular moment he did to pass the diary along to a Hogwarts student after holding on to it for 50 years: he recognized the threat Harry Potter himself posed to Voldemort's return and hoped, by slipping the diary into Ginny Weasley's text book, to give whatever evil force the diary contained the chance to deal with Harry before Harry grew up and grew strong.

It had always been a puzzle to me why Lucius chose that moment to re-introduce the diary and, of course, there is at least one moment in the stories where he is questioned for that decision, for disposing of a precious piece of Voldemort's soul so carelessly. We are led to believe, by Dumbledore's own comment at the end of Book Two, that Lucius chose to give the diary to Ginny so that the Weasley family's reputation would be tarnished and Mr. Weasley's Muggle Protection Act would be thwarted.

But I think it was deeper. I think Lucius Malfoy knew, at least to an extent, what the diary contained and was acting under instructions from Voldemort to place it at Hogwarts when things seemed most opportune or when an intervention of this nature was most needed.

Malfoy saw the danger Harry posed on an on-going basis to the Dark Lord's return -- Harry had, after all, defeated Voldemort once again at the end of The Philosopher's Stone -- and decided it was time to bring his Master back to deal with that threat.

I agree. There is no way Voldemort told Lucius Malfoy about his intention to create Horcruxes, nor that the diary he was entrusting to Malfoy was a Horcrux, but he must have explained to Malfoy that the diary contained a power that could open the Chamber of Secrets and wreak havoc at the school.

That's my theory, at least, but I have to admit that I'm not one-hundred per cent convinced of it even now. What do you think?

Harry Potter and the "broken" family

Harry Potter lives with his aunt and uncle (just like Luke Skywalker, by the way, but that's another issue).

Neville Longbottom lives with his grandmother.

Albus and Aberforth Dumbledore's father died in prison when they were in their early teens and their mother died in an accident just a couple of years later.

Rubeus Hagrid was raised from a child by his father after his mother left them. His father then died while he was still young.

Sirius Black ran away from home at 16 to live with the Potters.

Tom Riddle was raised in an orphanage, his mother dead and his father having rejected him.

There sure are a lot of boys in J.K. Rowling's world with non-traditional family structures, aren't there?

What does that fact say about the author and her experience with, and understanding of, family? And what does it say about the four major characters who have been raised in what is often called a "traditional" family: Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Dudley Dursley and Draco Malfoy?

To her credit, Rowling doesn't seem to associate a "broken" home with the development of an evil or damaged character. In fact, only Riddle went astray among the boys from the non-traditional families. The others are all on the side of good.

And, also to her credit, Rowling doesn't simply assume that a strong "traditional" family background guarantees the child will turn out to be good: while Ron and Hermione certainly turned out okay, Draco Malfoy and Dudley Dursley are both rather nasty creatures, at least until they redeem themselves, at least partially, in the seventh book.

Also of interest to me is the fact that, aside from the Weasleys and the Dumbledores, every family we see in the Potter novels has only one or two children. Harry is the only child of James and Lily. Neville is his parents' only offspring. Hermione, Hagrid, Tom Riddle and Draco are "only" children too. Sirius has a brother but left him when he moved to live with the Potters. And Dudley is an only child, but for the presence of his cousin, Harry, in his home.

And it's interesting that J.K. seems to present the Weasleys (the one really "big" family) as the ideal family: close, loving, supportive. Percy's decision to abandon his family is shocking and it seems almost inevitable, in the context of these books, that he will be reconciled with them before the end. And he is.

What does this mean? I'm not sure. I'll have to think about it. But it's interesting. And it's something I'll be thinking (and writing) about more in the future. Add it to the list.

Getting to know the Dark Lord

Ever since my online conversation with Anonymous, I've been thinking a lot about Voldemort, his life and his portrayal in both the books and movies in the Harry Potter series.

Just yesterday, I was reading the last part of Harry Potter et La Chambre des Secrets (the French translation of Rowling's second novel) and reviewed, once again, our first meeting with Tom Riddle, the Dark Lord's youthful self. What an interesting presentation that was!

Voldemort's shadow hangs over the early novels, even though his appearances in these books are brief. In The Philosopher's Stone, Harry learns of Voldemort at first from Hagrid and it is Hagrid's fearful, halting explanations of who the Dark Lord is and what he had done to Harry's parents that set the tone for Voldemort's influence on the rest of the series of books.

In the movie version of that first novel, Robbie Coltrane does a great job of capturing the fear and paranoia that continues to grip the magical world, even though ten years have passed since Voldemort disappeared. I am particularly fond of the way Coltrane spits out the word "Codswallop" in that scene. He's just so vehement about it: "Some people say he's dead. Codswallop, I say."

We catch our first glimpse of Voldemort at the end of that first book, a shrivelled face that emerges from the back of Quirrell's head in the final battle over the fabled Stone. But it is only when Harry plunges into the diary in The Chamber of Secrets that J.K. begins the wonderful process of serving up, in tantalising pieces, the story of Voldemort's younger years. The scene in the Chamber provides even more of these morsels.

The Tom Riddle of the second novel is a handsome, well-spoken, seemingly quiet young man. We learn he is an orphan, with a Muggle father and a magical mother, that he desperately hopes to escape the orphanage and that he is a remarkably brilliant student. We also learn that he is a Parselmouth and, oh yes, that he is the direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin, one of the four founders of the Hogwarts School.

This all seems very positive, especially if you can see the Slytherin relationship as merely a sign that Riddle is related to magical royalty rather than a sign that he is associated with a Muggle-hating bigot.

But then we meet the memory of Riddle in the Chamber. This Riddle is portrayed as self-centred, vindictive and judgmental. He brags about his ability to charm people in order to get his way. For the first time, we see his willingness to see others as pawns in his game, as tools to be used and cast aside. His ridicule of the 11-year-old Ginny Weasley for the childishness and banality of her diary entries, for her little girl hopes and fears, confirm him as a hateful, spiteful individual and his complete lack of concern or empathy over her impending death is a telling foreshadowing of his future behaviour.

We also get a glimpse of two weaknesses in Riddle that would continue to plague Voldemort in his adult life. The first is his fear of Dumbledore. Already as a 16 year old, Riddle struggles with the power Dumbledore seems to have over him, with his frustration over his inability to charm the brilliant wizard, to blind Dumbledore to his evil intentions. Even as he brags that Dumbledore was chased from Hogwarts by the mere memory of Voldemort, Riddle reveals his own inability to deal with Dumbledore's unique ability to stand up to him.

The second weakness we encounter is Voldemort's underestimation of the power of things that do not interest him or that he does not understand. It never occurred to Riddle that Lily Potter's decision to sacrifice herself out of love for her son would provide Harry with the protection he needed to survive Voldemort's attack. And when Harry points this fact out, Riddle both recognises and dismisses it, seeing it only as evidence that Harry alone could not have withstood him.

When Fawkes, the Phoenix, arrives to help Harry, bringing with him the Sorting Hat, Riddle mocks Harry and Dumbledore relentlessly. A song bird and a moth-eaten hat, he laughs. This is the help the great Dumbledore sends you? Even as a 16-year-old, Riddle understands only certain types of power, only certain kinds of magic. And he pays for it. The hat provides Harry with the Sword of Gryffindor, the weapon he needs to kill the Basilisk. Meanwhile, Fawkes proves invaluable, first blinding the great snake and then saving Harry from the Basilisk's venom with his healing tears.

We can't forget that one of Voldemort's greatest flaws is his inability to recognise power in forms he cannot or refuses to understand. He is all but destroyed by the power of Lily's love and sacrifice for Harry. He underestimates the power of house elves, never considering that an elf like Kreacher could infiltrate the cave and escape with the locket Horcrux. He dismisses the possibility that Snape's love for Lily Potter might be so strong that Snape would spend much of his adult life working to bring about the defeat of Lily's murderer.

That's a great deal of information to pack into what is, in fact, a relatively short scene in the second novel. It speaks volumes for J.K.'s abilities as a story teller but does it undermine Anonymous' criticism that Voldemort is flat and one-dimensional throughout the books?

I have to admit that I'm not sure it does. I may have to accept that Anonymous is right but credit Rowling with intentionally creating a single-minded, one-dimensionally evil character and leave it at that.

What are your thoughts?

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.

Tom Elvis Jedusor? Give me a break!

Well they sure fooled me. I've looked in every French dictionary I can find, I've asked French-speaking friends at work, and I can't find any proof that "jedusor" is, actually, "riddle" in French. Which means that either I am a terrible researcher or Google translation is wrong and the translator of The Chamber of Secrets is too clever.

So Tom Jedusor is a made up name that has no relation to Rowling's original Tom Riddle. That kind of stinks, I think.

And imagine my surprise when I turned the page and found out that the French Voldemort's full name is Tom Elvis Jedusor (which, by the way, turns out to be an anagram of the sentence "Je suis Voldemort", the French version of "I am Voldemort"). I actually snuck a peek at the end of the book to confirm this.

Now, in the original English, his name is Tom Marvolo Riddle, which is an anagram of "I am Lord Voldemort", with Marvolo representing his grandfather's name. Does that mean that the French grandfather is actually Elvis Gaunt (or however they translated Gaunt into French; my dictionary says it's "Decharne"). So maybe Riddle's grandfather will turn out to be "Elvis Decharne".

I know, some of you have already read the rest of the books in French and know what Marvolo Gaunt's name turns out to be but don't tell me. "Elvis" was a bit of a shock but fun nonetheless.

Jedusor me this!

I know that my online French dictionaries are telling me that the word "jedusor" means "riddle" in English. And yes, this straight translation from "Tom Riddle" to "Tom Jedusor" in the French version of The Chamber of Secrets (La Chambre des Secrets) is, therefore, technically correct.

But I still find it weird to find "Jedusor" where "Riddle" should be. I'm not sure which change bothers me more: Rogue for Snape or this one.

And I wonder: if I had been born and raised as a French speaker, would the word "Jedusor" carry with it all of the same connotations for my French self as the word "Riddle" has for my English self?

"Riddle" has so many meanings and associations for me that it certainly imbues the character, Tom Riddle, with automatic depth. "Riddle" means a puzzle but more difficult. "Riddle" means to splatter something or fill it with holes. "Riddle" recalls the "Riddler" from Batman fame, especially Frank Gorshin's incarnation of the Riddler on the cheesey Batman TV show of the 1960s. You remember: he kept sending Batman notes saying, "Riddle me this". What should it be: "Jedusor me this"?. "Riddle" brings back that quote about being a mystery wrapped up in an enigma.

Does "Jedusor" carry all of those meanings, all of those associations, all of that depth.

You encounter a character named "Riddle" and you already have an idea of what he's like. Can we say the same about "Jedusor"?

I'm not sure. But I do know that the word "Riddle" is, for me at least, a great deal more sinister sounding than "Jedusor". And that's important too.

The Chamber of Secrets is one of the weaker films

I am slowly working my way through the first seven Harry Potter movies in preparation for seeing Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2, for a second time in the cinema.

To my surprise, I found that the second film, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, is starting to lose its luster for me. It lacks the charm of the first film and, but for a scintillating climax, it also comes across as slightly self-indulgent. Whereas the first film offered us the wonder of a first-time look at the magical world, this second movie tries but fails to recapture that magic. And I think the acting, particularly of Daniel Radcliffe and Rupert Grint, is definitely not as good.

One of its biggest drawbacks is the overbearing presence of Gilderoy Lockhart, played by Kenneth Brannagh. I'm not saying Brannagh doesn't do well with the part; I'm just saying that the silliness of the Lockhart character in the film is too much and detracts from the effectiveness of the entire movie.

Now, as I said, I do think the ending of the film is powerful, perhaps even powerful enough to save the entire movie. Harry's encounter with Tom Riddle and the Basilisk, over Ginny Weasley's dying body, is gripping. In particular, I think Fawkes, the Phoenix, is beautifully created, so fantastic that you wish the bird had a bigger role in later films.

I also like Harry's final encounter with Mr. Malfoy at the end of the movie. I still can't believe that Lucius actually intended to use the killing curse on Harry before Dobby intervened. What a great way to tell us all that the stakes are getting higher awfully quickly.

And it's also a nice reminder of just how powerful Malfoy was in the beginning. I've gotten used to him as the fallen Death Eater he becomes in the later books.

So Harry can now sense the presence of a Horcrux, can he?

I had planned for my first real commentary on Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2, to focus on the positives, things I liked, things that worked well in the film.

And there were many. But I can't get my mind away from some little things that are really bothering me. So I'll get to them first, in hopes that with them out of the way I can get back to all the good things.

First, when Neville leads Harry, Hermione and Ron from the Hog's Head to Hogwarts' Room of Requirement, we find a number of familiar faces waiting for them, including Seamus and Cho. Just as in the book, the Room is decked out like the cabin of a ship, with hammocks and banners for the students who had been driven out of the school. Yet, shortly thereafter when Snape calls together the entire school body to interrogate them about Harry's whereabouts, Cho, Seamus and many of the others we've just seen in the safety of the Room are there again.

That makes no sense: if they were forced to flee the school and take refuge in the Room, why would they return to the school now? And it they were still safe in the school, why would they be bunking out in the Room, rather than their much more comfortable House common rooms?

Second, how is that, after Harry captures maybe two drops of Snape's tears/memories as Snape dies, Harry pours about a hundred drops of tears into the Pensieve shortly thereafter?

Third, if Harry can sense the presence of a Horcrux, even in a large, crowded room like the Lestrange's vault of Gringott's or the Room of Requirement (Room of Hidden Things version), why didn't he sense at least something in the diary when he handled it way back in The Chamber of Secrets or in the locket at Grimmauld Place when they were cleaning out the place in The Order of the Phoenix? In neither of those instances did he sense anything about these items, even though he was in close proximity to both.

These quibbles are minor, I admit, but they bother me and, in my opinion, they detract from the effectiveness of this film.

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.

Answering My Own Question

That just shows how carefully I read. Or maybe it says something about my memory.

A couple of posts ago I asked the question: whom did Tom Riddle murder to create the Horcrux in the diary? I speculated that it might have been the girl whose death was blamed on the monster hidden in the Chamber of Secrets during Riddle's (and Hagrid's) tenure at Hogwarts.

Well, surprise, surprise. J.K. answered that question clearly and unequivocally in The Half-Blood Prince. Riddle killed his Muggle father and grandparents when he was 16.

How did I not remember that?

It just goes to show how detailed and complex Rowling's magical world is. Over the course of the seven novels, she really did cover it all.