We're three-fourths of the way through Goblet of Fire, and this is what's happening: Winky's role model is Mammy from Gone With the Wind ("I is looking after the Crouches all my life, and my mother is doing it before me, and my grandmother is doing it before her . . ."); Hagrid is feeding dragon liver to the Blast-Ended Skrewts (I think it's safe to say we've all underestimated the availability of dragon parts; heartstrings for everyone!); Fleur worries about gaining weight and not fitting into her dress robes (they are ROBES, Fleur); McGonagall's idea of dressing up is superior to everyone else's (Tartan is the fanciest of all the patterns); at the Yule Ball, Karkaroff is looking at Krum the way Ron is looking at Hermione (I see this as somewhat of a problem); and Moody is using his magical eye to look through Harry's robes (ALSO A PROBLEM).
Let's talk about families.
I know we're supposed to be indignant over the superb stinginess of the Dursleys in sending Harry a single tissue for Christmas this year, but I continue to be impressed when they send him ANYTHING. I mean, he's out of sight, out of mind for a WHOLE year. And yet, around Christmas, they think of him at least long enough to send him something from the bottom of Aunt Petunia's purse. And they might even have to use some sort of magical conveyance to get it to him at Hogwarts, which you KNOW they hate. So I choose to see this glass as half full . . . of terrible relatives.
"Tiny little bloke, my dad was. By the time I was six I could lift him up an' put him on top o' the dresser if he annoyed me." (p. 428)
|He's gonna get back to us when he works it out.|