Sunday, April 22, 2007

Animagus Forms: a Choice, or a Given?

I’m finding myself fascinated by the realization of how many different and creative ways Rowling gives us in the series to see “inside” characters, and to understand who they are at the deepest core.


The Sorting Hat “sorts” the students at Hogwarts, discerning the personality traits, strengths and weaknesses that make them most suited to one of the four houses.


The Mirror of Erised reveals, via the mirror’s reflection, a person’s deepest heart’s desire.


Coming face to face with a boggart reveals, in visual form, a person’s worst fear.

Meeting up with a dementor uncovers, though only inwardly to the person directly affected, a person’s worst memories.


In all four cases, a person is confronted by something – a magical object or creature – that reveals or uncovers something about them.

But then we have patronuses and animagi. They too seem to reveal something deep about a person, but they’re a little different.


Patronuses are conjured, and only wizards of a certain skill and/or power level are capable of conjuring a patronus. Lupin calls it very advanced magic; Harry (even after considerable effort) can only conjur a misty, amorphous patronus at first. When he does finally manage to call forth a full patronus, even he is surprised (and deeply moved) at the shape of that patronus – the stag animagus form of his late father. Hermione is amazed to find out Harry did the conjuring, not only because of the time conundrum but because she’s already stated that it would take a very powerful wizard to call forth a patronus able to dispel so many dementors. Dumbledore says that Harry has discovered his father in himself.


So it would appear that, though the wizard is fully involved in calling forth a patronus, the form that patronus takes is not a choice, at least not a conscious choice. Instead it takes the shape of something deep and precious and strong, something in which one believes one can take refuge or stand behind and be protected. I don’t even know if we can say (at least entirely) that the form is shaped by the conjuring wizard’s unconscious, since Harry doesn’t yet know his father’s animagus form the first time he conjures his patronus. Dumbledore indicates that he could see at least the rudimentary shape of Harry’s patronus at the quidditch match, and certainly Harry didn’t know about Prongs then. And at the end of Azkaban, when he conjures the patronus fully, he has learned that James was an animagus whose form was called “Prongs” but no one has specifically told him yet that Prongs was a stag.



I think we do have evidence in later books, when we hear about the shape of Tonks’ patronus changing, that inward changes in the conjuring wizard – in their relationships, emotions, loves – can affect or change the shape of the patronus.


But what about animagi? I’m fascinated with them in part because of what Rowling doesn’t tell us, at least not straight out. Mostly I am wondering, is an animagus form a choice, or a given?


There are supposedly not many animagi in the wizarding world. Presumably it’s also very advanced magic, to be able to transform oneself into an animal. Hermione, with her usual thorough researching, informs us in Azkaban that there have been only seven “legally registered” animagi in the past century. Professor McGonagall is one of them; presumably one reason she got the job she has as transfiguration teacher at Hogwarts.


However it’s clear that a number of wizards can change into animals and haven’t bothered (for whatever reasons) to register their ability and their form with the Ministry of Magic. We know of four so far: James Potter, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, and Rita Skeeter.



Remus Lupin doesn’t count, because his monthly transformations into a wolf come about because of a werewolf bite. He didn’t choose that, wouldn’t have chosen it, and can’t control when it happens (except that the Wolfsbane potion, developed during his adulthood, enables him to remain “sane” even though he still changes into a wolf at each full moon).



James, Sirius and Peter learn to change into animals in order to keep Remus company, and probably for the sheer joy of learning how to do something difficult and keep it secret. Incidentally, it strikes me that we may be underestimating Peter’s abilities a bit – if he could learn to do this, even though he needed lots of “help” from brilliant James and Sirius, then he must not be too shabby of a wizard.


We don’t know Rita Skeeter’s motivation, but it’s a good bet that she decided to turn her transfiguration talents toward something that would help her hide easily and snoop around – skills I’m sure most tabloid journalists would love to have.


But all of this doesn’t really answer the question: did these people choose the animal they turned into? Lupin, who explains the whole concept to the trio, doesn’t really say. He mentions that Peter, “as the smallest” is the one who can touch the root to open up the passageway under the Whomping Willow, and the other two change into big enough animals (the bear-like dog and the stag) to help keep a wolf in check. All of that would lead one to believe that perhaps the trio of marauders had some say into what they changed themselves into. From what we’ve seen of transfiguration classes, the wizard usually knows what they’re changing…the students are often set tasks, it sounds like, to change one thing into something else specifically. Rita certainly would have some wish to turn into something very small to aid in her snooping habits, and her last name might have given her the idea!


Of course, Rita’s last name lets us know that Rowling at least has a lot to say about what each of these people turns into! Rita is so “skeeter” like – shrill, buzzing, and oh yes, blood sucking. Peter is definitely a rat. In fact, Peter is the biggest evidence we might have to the contrary, that a wizard doesn’t have entire control over what he turns into – why would someone choose to be a rat, unless it was just such a major part of his inner nature? There are plenty of other small animals that Wormtail could have chosen to be if he could have chosen. I think the bear-dog is an interesting choice for Sirius, because of his name (why didn’t she just make him a bear? perhaps because it would have been decidedly odd to see a bear wandering around Hogwarts, whereas a stray dog looks so ordinary no one would think twice). And the stag for James is the most interesting choice of all. It’s a Christ-symbol (perhaps doubly so when the form we meet him in is pure light). And the symbol also has deep roots in Lewis and Goudge – two of the authors who have influenced Rowling at a deep heart level, it would seem.


Choice or given? I don’t know…but I’m intensely curious. I’m also curious to know if anyone else we know is/was an illegal (or legal, Hermione doesn’t tell us the other six names) animagus. What about the previous transfiguration teacher at Hogwarts? Hmm…I believe that would have been Albus Dumbledore.


Edited to add: I just went over to Accio Quote! and prowled around a bit to see if Rowling ever specifically addressed this question (choice or given) in an interview. She has, of course. :-)


Here's the relevant bit from a 2005 interview. I've bolded the part that answered my musings (and which also makes me laugh!). I also find it a bit odd that she said Hermione's animagus form was an otter...that's clearly a slip of the tongue, since we know that an otter is Hermione's patronus, and we've never been given any indication that Hermione is an animagus, though she certainly seems skilled enough to try. It's good to know that even Rowling confuses things in her own fictional world sometimes!

*******

Robert Dawson for Asda - If you were an animagus what would you like to be?

JK Rowling: This always amuses me this idea. You see, you do not know what you are going to be until you have done it, so you might spend half a decade trying to turn into an animal and then find out you were a slug or something, which would be most unpleasant.

I gave Hermione my favourite animal, which is an otter. If you wanted to be something impressive, you would probably be something like a stag or a tiger, would you not, I just suspect I might be a guinea pig or something which would be so embarrassing.



********


Friday, April 20, 2007

Harry's Christening

Here's the actual quote from JKR -- this is taken from the Leaky Cauldron/Mugglenet interview she did in summer 2005, right around the time Half-Blood Prince was released. I found this little exchange so tantalizing, especially where she says "I can't say much more." Obviously there is more she could say on this subject!

ES: Who is Harry's godmother?

JKR: Didn't have one.

ES: Really?

JKR:Well, Sirius never had time to get a girlfriend, let alone marry.

ES: They could have just picked some other close friend of the family.

JKR: At the time that they christened Harry, they were in hiding. This was not going to be a widely attended christening, because he was already in danger. So this is something they were going to do very quietly, with as few people as possible, that they wanted to make this commitment with Sirius. And — yeah. Can’t say much more.


"'Ow Come You Di'n't Tell Us 'oo You Are, Eh, Neville?"

Re-reading The Knight Bus (chapter three of Prisoner of Azkaban), I found it interesting that the pseudonym Harry adopts for his unexpected journey is Neville Longbottom. It was "the first name that popped into his head" (34), which surprised me, unless he was afraid using Ron's name might get his dad into trouble, something he's probably extra wary about after the fiasco with the car a year before. At any rate, this seems to support the notion of Neville being a shadow member of Harry's little group, since he thought of him so quickly. As far as Stan knows for the duration of the trip, Harry is Neville. In Order of the Phoenix, we learn that Neville could have been "the Chosen one", occupying Harry's role in Voldemort's mind. Was Harry's adoption of the name a little hint of things to come?

Musings on the Symbolism of Harry's Scar

After reading Erin's poem the other day, especially the last stanza, I remembered some scattered thoughts I'd tried to put together when discussing Harry's scar during a Barnes & Noble online forum in 2005. (It was an excellent reader's group moderated by John Granger right after the publication of Half-Blood Prince.)

I saved a lot of the longer comments I made to that class, wanting to preserve some of my HP musings, and yesterday I went back and found the ones I was thinking of. I'm going to paste them in below, with only slight editing for clarity (and to cut references to the ongoing discussion from two years ago). Here goes...

********
I've been contemplating Harry's scar -- not just recently, but for the past couple of years, as I've read and re-read the HP books. I've been struck many times by the fact that, whatever else it may symbolize and however it functions, Harry's lightning-bolt scar could be looked at as an echo of Christian baptism.

We know that Harry has been marked, practically from birth, by the reality of death. At the age of one, he is marked inwardly in the sense that he experiences the loss of both parents, and he is literally marked by Voldemort, whose killing curse directed at the young baby rebounds and almost mortally wounds the dark wizard instead, sending him into exile as a wraith awaiting a comeback when Harry is older. Harry will carry the lightning bolt scar of this encounter for the rest of his life, a scar that continues to cause him physical and mental anguish as Voldemort plots his return to power.

I find it interesting that JKR chose to place this important symbolic mark on Harry’s forehead. In most historic Christian traditions, the forehead is marked with the sign of the cross at baptism (showing one is sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked as Christ’s own) and then annually marked with the sign of the cross in ashes at the beginning of each Lent, to remind of one’s fragile mortality. The sign of the cross, a symbol of great power and love, given as blessing, is very different of course from the unintended sign “given” to Harry by the curse of the evil Voldemort, but they seem to share some connections.

We are so used to the cross as a symbol of suffering love and ultimate victory that we forget it too was originally a symbol of great fear and death, a sign of one of the worst methods of killing the Roman empire could devise. A sign of shame intended to cause fear and pain in those who saw it was ultimately turned inside out and redeemed by Jesus, who took on fragile, mortal flesh and redeemed humanity through his sacrifice. Thus we can take this sign now as one of hope because of His great love for us.

Could we not say that in JKR's fictional world, Harry’s scar is both a painful reminder of the power of evil and death and their ability to wound us, and the sign to his community that there is still hope that evil can be overcome? (Recall the early Ron's fascination with and admiration of Harry's scar, and Scrimgeour's blunt and offensive but nonetheless partially true idea that the wizarding community is in need of hope that someone might be destined to defeat Voldemort.)

It is interesting to note that Harry, marked and scarred by sin and death, and still vulnerable to their powers, is NOT marked with the mark of evil’s choosing – if Voldemort had planned to give him a scar, he would undoubtedly have used the “dark mark” associated with his reign of terror, the skull and crossbones that he usually leaves as a calling card for his murders. Instead, Harry is marked with a lightning bolt – a complex symbol that could in turn be read in two ways. Lightning can be sudden and violent, and it can cause fiery devastation, but it can also be beautiful, a power harnessed for good. It is, after all, a symbol of light – jagged, painful light, yes, but light nonetheless, that tears the darkness asunder.

JKR certainly shows the terrible sense of lightning when she references the "lightning struck tower" in HBP as a sign of calamity. However, outside of HP, there are ways in which lightning can be thought of in positive ways, such as "lightning doesn't strike twice" to connote that one doesn't expect to come across good fortune more than once.

I know of course that the lightning-bolt scar, Harry's "baptism by fire" into the reality of death, if you will, is not Harry's actual baptism. I've written elsewhere about some of the ways in which I think JKR has showed us parallels to Christian initiation in Harry's life. And interestingly, JKR has also let us know that Harry has been christened -- he has a godfather (and she confirmed the fact of the christening in an interview) -- which is one of the few instances I can recall of any reference to the actual church within the HP series. It's also interesting (and perhaps significant?) that she would bother to have him christened, as I understand that is not necessarily a given in the strongly secular UK these days. I find myself grateful to know this fact about Harry, glad to think that he was marked in actual baptism before he was marked by the killing curse at story's beginning.

Are there ways in which we can view Harry's scar as a sign of hope and healing, and not just devastation and death? I think so. What Voldemort meant for evil has, in some deep Providential sense, been turned to Harry's (and his community's) good.

Sometimes scars make us stronger. And sometimes we need the sobering reminder how precious and costly our lives are.

******


Wednesday, April 18, 2007

Harry's Really Not So Bad...

I came upon this poem I wrote a few months ago, probably after reading some article or another talking about how good Christian parents should keep their kids away from Harry Potter. I've read many such articles over the years, and I confess I've found them a bit distressing, since I consider myself both a devoted Christian and a huge Harry Potter fan. It's nice to know there are many others out there who find Harry to not only not be anti-Christian, but to be richly steeped in Christian ideals and a springboard for all sorts of thoughtful discussion. Anyway, here's my little "be nice to Harry" rant...

In Defense of Harry

I'm never sure how to respond
When I hear people denigrate Harry.
They've been blasting him since
Long before Half-Blood Prince
And warning parents to be wary.

This boy with a broom and a wand
Has caused such an unholy commotion,
And some people think
He leads kids to the brink
Away from good Christian devotion.

For "witch" is a word that is cursed
By the pious and God-fearing masses
Who aren't sure if they should
Even look for the good
In a book touting wizarding classes.

But I ponder which message is worse:
That the boy with the scar must be hated
Or that in stories of
Moral fiber and love,
Some magic should be tolerated.

I don't have to wonder for long.
My thoughts on this couldn't be clearer
If they leaped from the haze
As I patiently gazed
With intent into Erised's mirror.

It is possible that I am wrong,
But whenever I sift through the noise,
I am sure God is love
And that He is above
Flinging lightning bolts at orphan boys.

Sunday, April 15, 2007

Echoes from the Chamber

Ounce for ounce, pound for pound, I think Chamber of Secrets may be the best book in the series so far.

Let me explain. I love them all, of course, and enjoy re-reading each one of them for different reasons. I have sentimental feelings about Sorcerer's Stone because it's the first book and introduces us to Harry's world; I still shiver whenever we get anywhere near the denouement of Prisoner of Azkaban because the strongest, most-long-lasting emotional/spiritual image for me in the entire series is Prongs; I admire the complexity of the plot of Goblet of Fire and think the graveyard scene remains the most harrowing scene in the series, with the shades of Harry's parents running a close second to Prongs for emotional impact for me. I think the dance of despair and life-giving humor in Order of the Phoenix is very well done, and necessary, and I have a special feeling for that book because I think it will always be the most misunderstood. And when it comes to Half-Blood Prince, I am in awe of the mysterious, brilliant finish that sets us up so well for the finale.

But Chamber of Secrets, of all the books, just feels like the best-told story in and of itself. If there had never been another book, yes, I would have had millions of questions, but I think I still would have been satisfied in some odd way with this story all by itself. It's got some of the funniest scenes and moments in the series (singing Valentines! flying Ford Anglia! Moaning Myrtle! Gilderoy Lockhart's pictures in hairnets! The headless hunt!) and some of the sweetest and most powerful moments at deep symbolic levels (Fawkes; the sorting hat; Gryffindor's sword).

But although I think this is possibly the most tightly-written and best told story of the bunch, I'm glad it wasn't a stand-alone. I think it packs such a wallop for most of us now because of all we know that comes after it. The foreshadowings and echoes are so thick in Chamber of Secrets, you can practically cut them with a butterknife. (You know, the one next to the butterdish that Ginny Weasley sticks her elbow in.)

I was lying sick in bed this afternoon while reading the finale. It's so well-done that it still leaves me a bit breathless even when I know what's coming. But in addition to just enjoying the ride ("Amazing! This is just like magic!") I found myself noting several places that felt extra-heavy with meaning because of the unfolding of later events.

Just a few things I noticed:

"Ginny -- don't be dead -- please don't be dead -- " He flung his wand aside, grabbed Ginny's shoulders, and turned her over." ("The Heir of Slytherin," p. 389)

Beyond the obvious here -- that Harry will one day fall in love with Ginny and come to feel even more protective about her life -- what I found dripping with meaning and hope in this line was "He flung his wand aside..."

It had never struck me before with such force how foolish and dear Harry can be, especially at this stage of the game. He is completely vulnerable. He doesn't know Tom Riddle is down there, I know, and doesn't even suspect him once he first sees him. He cares less about keeping up his guard, even in a very dangerous situation fraught with peril, than he does about caring for the wounded girl lying at his feet. I love his character for just this reason. And I think the flinging of the wand here is in some ways a foreshadowing of what's to come. We know Harry can't best Riddle/Voldemort with a wand in the end. We know that he has to defeat him, somehow, with love. This is Harry, open and vulnerable and loving. Despite the fact that he does what looks foolish and surrenders his wand (Riddle spends the next few minutes taunting him with it and rolling it in his fingers while he explains to Harry who he is; he even uses Harry's wand to write his name in the air, so chilling!) it is Harry who emerges victorious in the chamber.

And then there's this:

"Now, Harry, I'm going to teach you a little lesson. Let's match the powers of Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin, against famous Harry Potter, and the best weapons Dumbledore can give him..." (p. 402)

Shivers. What have we been seeing in the past four books since CoS? Dumbledore, arming Harry with the "best weapons" he can give him...knowledge of the enemy, yes, but more than that, wisdom, humility, vulnerability, the joy of being human, LOVE.

A few paragraphs earlier, Riddle had derided the "weapons" or one might more accurately say "gifts" sent by Dumbledore: Riddle began to laugh again. He laughed so hard that the dark chamber rang with it, as though ten Riddles were laughing at once -- "This is what Dumbledore sends his defender! A songbird and an old hat! Do you feel brave, Harry Potter? Do you feel safe now?" (p. 400)

And oddly enough, Harry feels his courage mounting, even though he can't immediately see the use of the gifts. I love how the gifts are disguised, and look so "foolish to the wise" (who really aren't as wise as they think). I also got some shivers over the "ten Riddles" comment. Such a throwaway little moment, and yet when you begin to consider the "split soul" or split personality of Riddle as we've come to understand it, not so throwaway after all.

Riddle is revealed as the liar he really is throughout this scene, perhaps nowhere more powerfully as when he taunts the wounded Harry, whom he believes is dying. (He doesn't yet realize that Fawkes' pearly tears have the power to heal even a mortal wound like this one.) "So ends the famous Harry Potter...Alone in the Chamber of Secrets, forsaken by his friends..." (p. 407)

But if there is one thing Harry is not in this moment, it's forsaken. Fawkes crying on his wound is the evidence of that, and the evidence of grace and resurrection. Harry's not deserted and never has been, not even the night his parents died. Perhaps one reason Riddle harps on desertion so much is because he himself understands it at a deep soul level.

I can't wait to read the end of Deathly Hallows and find all the echoes there that were first planted here in Chamber of Secrets. I think there will be far more than we expect.

Dumbledore's Socks

One of my very favorite little moments in the entire Harry Potter series occurs at the tail end of The Mirror of Erised. Of course, that entire chapter is fantastic: Harry's first actually enjoyable Christmas, our introduction to Christmas in the wizarding world, the grand debut of the invisibility cloak, and Harry's haunting encounters with the titular mirror. But I just love that little nugget at the end, on page 214, when Harry asks Dumbledore what he sees when he looks into the mirror.

"I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks."
Harry stared.
"One can never have enough socks," said Dumbledore. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books."

I love it first because it so gently and beautifully eases Harry - and us - out of an incredibly solemn, melancholy moment. It breaks the tension, leaving Harry puzzling over Dumbledore's curious response as he goes to bed rather than brooding over the desire to see his parents once more. (Incidentally, there was an episode of Smallville that reminds me a lot of this chapter, in which Lana - orphaned at the age of three when her parents were killed by the meteor shower accompanying Clark's arrival - takes drugs that cause her to flat-line for a couple moments at a time, in the hopes of seeing her parents again, nearly leading to her complete self-destruction.) It allows the chapter to end much less drearily than it could have, since this is a vision Harry craves so deepy.

Second, it's such a ridiculous image, this ancient, highly respected wizard standing forlornly amidst a pile of freshly unwrapped books, tut-tutting to himself that he's going to have to put up with cold feet for another January. It's silly because socks are the stereotypical gift that no one wants to get for Christmas, and Dumbledore certainly shouldn't need anyone to get socks for him; I'm sure he can afford as many as his heart desires. 2

But third, while I think this was partly just a way to lighten the atmosphere, I do think there is truth in what he says. Dumbledore is viewed by everyone, even McGonagall, as just a bit unapproachable. He's marvelously down-to-earth, but he's so highly regarded that it's hard for people to think of him as a regular guy who is plagued and comforted by the same things they are, and I think sometimes he'd rather be just plain Albus instead of high-and-mighty Professor Dumbledore. I think he shows that again on 301 when he samples Harry's Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. He's not too good for the simple things in life. He wants Harry to realize that, noble, wise and wonderful as he is, he puts his socks on one leg at a time like everybody else.