After a month of letting Goblet of Fire toy with my fragile emotions, it’s finally come to a crashing halt. This week, Harry learned that Neville’s parents were tortured to the point of insanity, but he couldn’t be bothered to give Neville a kindly pat at the breakfast table; Bertha Jorkins proved herself to be the world’s loneliest witch when she agreed to a romantic moonlight stroll with Wormtail; a sizable group of adults stood by while a 14-year-old boy was tortured; dementors continued to be a terrible idea; Hermione walked around with a kidnapped Rita Skeeter Beetle in a jar in her purse like it was no big; and Sirius turned a doorknob with his PAW.
|Even with opposable thumbs, no simple feat.|
I know Voldemort is serious business, with the murdering and the torturing and the ability to smell people's guilt despite his complete lack of a proper nose. But I can’t seem to take him seriously. Especially after this:
The thing Wormtail had been carrying had the shape of a crouched human child, except that Harry had never seen anything less like a child. It was hairless and scaly-looking, a dark, raw, reddish black. Its arms and legs were thin and feeble. . . .
The thing seemed almost helpless; it raised its thin arms, put them around Wormtail’s neck, and Wormtail lifted it. (pp. 640–541)
|I need upsies.|
Dumbledore, on the other hand, I’m suddenly taking QUITE seriously. His congenial twinkle has been replaced by “cold fury,” and he’s radiating power like burning heat. He’s a contradiction of temperatures. DO NOT MESS WITH HIM.
But I’m really interested to know why Dumbledore looked briefly triumphant when Harry recounted how Voldemort was able to touch Harry’s face without hurting himself. I’m assuming this is an Easter egg and I shall be rewarded later for my keen observation.
And I don’t know what you’ve heard, but this did not, by any means, make me tear up in the Laundromat:
Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory. (p. 724)
|Can't we all just get along?|