One of the reasons I like to read and re-read the Harry Potter novels is because they are so well written. As an aspiring writer myself, I feel I can learn a great deal from how J.K. Rowling both in terms of plotting and in terms of the actual writing.
It has struck me, as I dive into The Goblet of Fire again, how well constructed this story is. We are all very familiar with incredibly dramatic ending of this book, with Harry and Cedric agreeing to share the Triwizard victory, then being instantly transported to the graveyard in Little Hangleton where they encounter, with world-shaking, deadly consequences, Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters.
What impresses me is how carefully Rowling sets the stage for the dramatic conclusion in the earliest parts of the book, how meticulously she prepares her readers for the fast-paced action that brings the novel to a close.
Take the concept of the "Portkey", for example. We have never seen one before this book. It's new and, as we find out, it is a key aspect of Voldemort's plan to bring Harry to the graveyard. Rowling needs to ensure two things as her readers head into the climax of the book: 1) that we understand and are comfortable with what a Portkey is and how it works; and 2) that she doesn't have to slow down the action and the build-up of suspense late in the novel to explain all that to us.
So J.K. introduces the Portkey to us early in the book, when she can do it slowly, carefully and with a full explanation of what it is and how it works. Its introduction at the top of Stoatshead Hill becomes, in fact, another part of our fascinating and ongoing introduction to the world of witches and wizards.
And, since Harry is as new to that world as we are, Rowling can plausibly have Mr. Weasley explain Portkeys to us (and to Harry) when they are first introduced.
Even more clever is the fact that Rowling chooses a very memorable metaphor to describe how it feels to be transported by a Portkey. It feels like "a hook just behind [your] navel has been suddenly jerked irresistibly forwards." That metaphor is not only incredible effective at conveying a feeling (I can just feel that hook yanking me from the centre of my body) but it is also very memorable in its description.
So memorable, in fact, that when, 500 pages later, Harry and Cedric grasp the Triwizard Cup together, all J.K. has to do is tell us that "Harry felt a jerk somewhere behind his navel" for us to know that the Cup is a Portkey and that Harry and Cedric are on their way somewhere they don't want to go.
Rowling also takes great care to introduce (or re-introduce) us to Cedric Diggory in a much more sympathetic way in this book. Since it is a key to the success of this book that we like Cedric by the end, in order to make his death more dramatic and affecting, it is important that we see him as more than the ridiculously handsome boy who actually beat Harry in Quidditch.
How does J.K. accomplish it? With her usual subtlety and style. Instead of giving us some extended scene where he comes across as weak or even maudlin, Rowling shows Cedric being embarrassed by his father's boasting and attempting to clarify that he at least understood why the Quidditch match had turned out as it had.
Thanks to this very brief moment in the early part of the book, we are much more willing to give Cedric the benefit of the doubt when he gets thrust into the unenviable position of being painted as Hogwart's wronged champion later in the novel.
I learn something from Rowling every time I read one of her books. And The Goblet of Fire contains as many lessons for an aspiring writer as any of them.
Friday, March 7, 2014
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
On Dudley and choice seats for Quidditch
A couple of thoughts from the first couple of chapters of The Goblet of Fire.
After Fred and George managed to tempt Dudley with a Ton-Tongue Toffee and blow his tongue up like a balloon, do you think Harry told them about what Hagrid did to the kid? It would be a natural conversation, wouldn't it? "That was funny what you did to Dudley, but it's got nothing on the pig tail Hagrid gave him four years ago!"
And what do you make of the differences between how the book deals with the seating arrangements at the Quidditch World Cup and how the film version addresses the same issue? In the book, both the Weasley party and the Malfoy family are seated in the top box, leading to that nasty confrontation. In the movie, however, the point is made clearly that, while the Malfoys are guests of the Minister for Magic himself in the top box, Mr. Weasley could only afford the cheapest seats for his family.
That's not the only difference. In the book, Rowling makes it clear that the seats at the top of the stadium are the best and most costly; in the movie, Lucius Malfoy mocks Mr. Weasley's seats which are so high up in the stadium that, if it rains, the Weasley's will be the first to know.
First of all, why change it at all? Second of all, when the sport is Quidditch, the best seats must be at the top the stadium, where all the action is. So why does the movie version make it sound like it's better to be lower in the Stadium? Is that just because most Muggle movie-goers would automatically think lower is better because that's how it works at all of our sports venues?
I don't know. I don't get it. I can't figure out why the movie makers kept changing little things like that when the original book is clearly right.
After Fred and George managed to tempt Dudley with a Ton-Tongue Toffee and blow his tongue up like a balloon, do you think Harry told them about what Hagrid did to the kid? It would be a natural conversation, wouldn't it? "That was funny what you did to Dudley, but it's got nothing on the pig tail Hagrid gave him four years ago!"
And what do you make of the differences between how the book deals with the seating arrangements at the Quidditch World Cup and how the film version addresses the same issue? In the book, both the Weasley party and the Malfoy family are seated in the top box, leading to that nasty confrontation. In the movie, however, the point is made clearly that, while the Malfoys are guests of the Minister for Magic himself in the top box, Mr. Weasley could only afford the cheapest seats for his family.
That's not the only difference. In the book, Rowling makes it clear that the seats at the top of the stadium are the best and most costly; in the movie, Lucius Malfoy mocks Mr. Weasley's seats which are so high up in the stadium that, if it rains, the Weasley's will be the first to know.
First of all, why change it at all? Second of all, when the sport is Quidditch, the best seats must be at the top the stadium, where all the action is. So why does the movie version make it sound like it's better to be lower in the Stadium? Is that just because most Muggle movie-goers would automatically think lower is better because that's how it works at all of our sports venues?
I don't know. I don't get it. I can't figure out why the movie makers kept changing little things like that when the original book is clearly right.
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
"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.
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.
Sunday, February 2, 2014
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
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
Saturday, January 25, 2014
My scarf and the Harry Potter generation
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| Gryffindor forever! |
That's not to say that Harry has been completely absent from my life, however. We've been experiencing some crazy cold, windy and snowy weather out here, perfect for me to show off my ultra-warm Gryffindor scarf.
My sister knit this scarf for me a couple of years ago, following a pattern that recreated the scarves from the first movie stitch for stitch. It's a spectacular garment and draws a lot of attention every time I wear it.
For example, the other day I was standing at a street corner, wearing my scarf and waiting for the light to change, when a woman approached and said, "Your inner geek is showing."
I laughed and said, "So is your inner geek, if you recognize this scarf and where it comes from!"
We had a chuckle together and then went our separate ways.
Later the same day, I had a man stop me in the lobby of my building. "That's Gryffindor, isn't it?" he said.
"Yep," I agreed.
He shook his head. "I'm Ravenclaw myself."
Even later the same day, I was coming down on the elevator and a woman asked if my scarf represented "Mount Allison University or you know," and she then whispered, "Hogwarts?"
"It's Gryffindor, all right," I told her, holding out the Gryffindor crest on the scarf.
Two other people in the elevator nodded. "I thought so," said one.
The woman, encouraged, then told me she has been online, looking up the Harry Potter theme park and really wants to go. "It looks fantastic," she whispered.
What do these encounters tell me? Well, first they tell me that, even though it's now been almost seven years since J.K. Rowling published The Deathly Hallows, the Harry Potter phenomenon is still going strong.
And second, that even though my nieces, nephews and young friends tell me that Harry Potter is no longer in fashion for young readers like themselves, there are still a lot of people of all ages who love Harry Potter anyway.
Think about it. The Philosopher's Stone was first published in 1997, now almost 17 years ago. A person who was ten years old when it first came out would be 26, going on 27 today. The Harry Potter generation are now young adults, probably with children of their own.
And those of us who were already grown up in 1997 but loved the books anyway. Well, we're heading into middle age and beyond!
Harry Potter lives. But it's not so much the kids who are keeping it alive.
My Gryffindor scarf is proof of that!
Thursday, December 26, 2013
It's about time. It's always about time...
I am on record (numerous times in fact) as to how much I like and admire Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. I think it is one of the best of Rowling's seven HP novels and I look forward to reading it every time I pick it up.
But I have to admit, I really regret the fact that J.K. introduced time travel into her magical world.
I have felt the same about the introduction of time travel into all kinds of other wonderful works of fantasy and science fiction: time travel, if it is accessible and fairly easy, completely ruins the drama and introduces all kinds of problems with the story at hand.
In Rowling's third book, time travel allows the creation of a very exciting, interesting plot and a very creative resolution, to be sure. But...
1. If time travel is so dangerous and so strictly controlled by the Ministry, why is it made available to a 13-year-old girl who wants to overload on classes at school?
2. If time travel is so simple to perform, why does the Ministry not use it to avert any of the major disasters that take place in the Potter novels, like the rise of Voldemort, the death of Harry's parents, the murder of dozens of people by Peter Pettigrew, the escape of Sirius Black from Azkaban, the escape of Wormtail, the attack on the Department of Mysteries, the murder of Cedric Diggory, Voldemort's resurrection in the grave yard, Dumbledore's death, the final battle of Hogwarts and on and on and on?
3. If Hermione and Harry can go back three hours in time just by turning the time-turner three times, why not go back five, six, ten hours in time and catch Peter Pettigrew before all the drama begins?
4. Why, in the seventh book, when Harry seeks the Resurrection Stone in a desperate hope of seeing his parents again, does he not, instead, decide to go back in time to save his parents from death in the first place?
5. Why does Voldemort not steal a time-turner and go back in time to avoid his pivotal attack on the infant Harry?
When you introduce time travel, you introduce problems.
I also have to ask the question: why does Dumbledore send Harry and Hermione back in time to save Buckbeak and Sirius rather than simply going back himself? Surely, he would be much more likely to succeed than would these two underage wiz-kids.
As usual, I ask these questions with a smile on my face. These are small issues when compared to the strength of Rowling's creation.
But I have to admit, I really regret the fact that J.K. introduced time travel into her magical world.
I have felt the same about the introduction of time travel into all kinds of other wonderful works of fantasy and science fiction: time travel, if it is accessible and fairly easy, completely ruins the drama and introduces all kinds of problems with the story at hand.
In Rowling's third book, time travel allows the creation of a very exciting, interesting plot and a very creative resolution, to be sure. But...
1. If time travel is so dangerous and so strictly controlled by the Ministry, why is it made available to a 13-year-old girl who wants to overload on classes at school?
2. If time travel is so simple to perform, why does the Ministry not use it to avert any of the major disasters that take place in the Potter novels, like the rise of Voldemort, the death of Harry's parents, the murder of dozens of people by Peter Pettigrew, the escape of Sirius Black from Azkaban, the escape of Wormtail, the attack on the Department of Mysteries, the murder of Cedric Diggory, Voldemort's resurrection in the grave yard, Dumbledore's death, the final battle of Hogwarts and on and on and on?
3. If Hermione and Harry can go back three hours in time just by turning the time-turner three times, why not go back five, six, ten hours in time and catch Peter Pettigrew before all the drama begins?
4. Why, in the seventh book, when Harry seeks the Resurrection Stone in a desperate hope of seeing his parents again, does he not, instead, decide to go back in time to save his parents from death in the first place?
5. Why does Voldemort not steal a time-turner and go back in time to avoid his pivotal attack on the infant Harry?
When you introduce time travel, you introduce problems.
I also have to ask the question: why does Dumbledore send Harry and Hermione back in time to save Buckbeak and Sirius rather than simply going back himself? Surely, he would be much more likely to succeed than would these two underage wiz-kids.
As usual, I ask these questions with a smile on my face. These are small issues when compared to the strength of Rowling's creation.
Monday, December 23, 2013
What did Snape know about the Map and Messrs M, W, P & P?
As I have said several times before, The Prisoner of Azkaban is probably my favourite of the Harry Potter books and films. So I approach reading this third novel with a great deal of anticipation and, most often, I sit down to the watch the film when I am coming to the end of the book.
I just love the way the film presents the time-turner elements of the story at the end.
My most recent reading, however, has raised some confusion in my mind, confusion with regard to what is actually going on in the scene in which Snape and Lupin square off over the discovery of the Marauders Map in Harry's possession.
What does Snape know about that map? And about "Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs", its creators?
Certainly, he appears to know a great deal: when he says to Lupin, "You don't think it more likely that he got it directly from the manufacturers", he seems to be indicating that he knows that Lupin and his friends created the map and that Lupin had, in fact, given it to Harry.
So why, then, does Snape allow Lupin to lie to him so blatantly in claiming that the map "looks like a Zonko product to me"?
And why doesn't Snape keep the map and take it to Dumbledore as evidence to support his theory that Lupin is helping his old friend Sirius Black?
We know that Snape is fully aware that Lupin is a werewolf (suggesting the nickname "Moony"); why would Snape not then be able to start to unravel what the other nicknames imply and then figure out how Sirius was able to get past the Dementors and enter the school?
I'm not trying to be critical; I am simply confused. Am I reading this wrong? Is Snape not fully aware of who the manufacturers of the Marauders Map were? Help me figure this out.
A couple of other points on The Prisoner of Azkaban:
On at least two occasions in this book (when Neville breaks a tea cup in Divination and when Hagrid drops a milk jug in his hut), we see magical characters scurry to clean up the mess. Why didn't they deal with the mess with magic?
In the film, when Lupin has his Defence Against the Dark Arts class first face the Boggart, we actually see the Boggart transform into a Dementor on Harry's turn. Lupin doesn't intervene until we, and everyone else, actually see the Dementor. Why, then, does Lupin later suggest that he intervened because he thought it would turn into Lord Voldemort?
In the book, Lupin intervenes before the Boggart transforms, which makes his explanation plausible. But, in the film the Dementor actually appears before Lupin steps in...
Two things to think about, I guess. And please help me to understand what Snape knew and did not know about the Marauders Map and the various nicknames for Lupin and his friends.
I just love the way the film presents the time-turner elements of the story at the end.
My most recent reading, however, has raised some confusion in my mind, confusion with regard to what is actually going on in the scene in which Snape and Lupin square off over the discovery of the Marauders Map in Harry's possession.
What does Snape know about that map? And about "Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs", its creators?
Certainly, he appears to know a great deal: when he says to Lupin, "You don't think it more likely that he got it directly from the manufacturers", he seems to be indicating that he knows that Lupin and his friends created the map and that Lupin had, in fact, given it to Harry.
So why, then, does Snape allow Lupin to lie to him so blatantly in claiming that the map "looks like a Zonko product to me"?
And why doesn't Snape keep the map and take it to Dumbledore as evidence to support his theory that Lupin is helping his old friend Sirius Black?
We know that Snape is fully aware that Lupin is a werewolf (suggesting the nickname "Moony"); why would Snape not then be able to start to unravel what the other nicknames imply and then figure out how Sirius was able to get past the Dementors and enter the school?
I'm not trying to be critical; I am simply confused. Am I reading this wrong? Is Snape not fully aware of who the manufacturers of the Marauders Map were? Help me figure this out.
A couple of other points on The Prisoner of Azkaban:
On at least two occasions in this book (when Neville breaks a tea cup in Divination and when Hagrid drops a milk jug in his hut), we see magical characters scurry to clean up the mess. Why didn't they deal with the mess with magic?
In the film, when Lupin has his Defence Against the Dark Arts class first face the Boggart, we actually see the Boggart transform into a Dementor on Harry's turn. Lupin doesn't intervene until we, and everyone else, actually see the Dementor. Why, then, does Lupin later suggest that he intervened because he thought it would turn into Lord Voldemort?
In the book, Lupin intervenes before the Boggart transforms, which makes his explanation plausible. But, in the film the Dementor actually appears before Lupin steps in...
Two things to think about, I guess. And please help me to understand what Snape knew and did not know about the Marauders Map and the various nicknames for Lupin and his friends.
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