Harry Potter Readalong: The Retrospective

It’s official, friends. I hereby join the ranks of Those Who Have Read Harry Potter. It’s a big club. But only a select few members have their own wands.

Ebony with Phoenix feather core. For threatening my enemies.

I don’t know if you realize this, but organizing a group of book bloggers who live all over the world to read the same books and then talk about them on the same day every week for 6 months running is a stupendous feat. Like herding cats? Is that the saying? And only our brave and fearless leader, Alice, our collective fondness for GIFs, and the scary-brilliant imagination of Lady JK Rowling herself could have provided the motivation to keep us all onboard. Also peer pressure (not just for making children smoke the cigarettes anymore).

As some of you may know . . . the past 6 months have been maybe the most difficult of my life. My world sort of fell apart right before Christmas, and it’s taken this long just to assemble the scaffolding to BEGIN the rebuilding process. And through all that personal journeying, I was simultaneously making my steady way onward from the cupboard under the stairs at Number 4 Privet Drive. They say you never forget your first time reading the Harry Potter series, and for me that could not be more true.

TOO MANY FEELINGS.

Makes your opponent's pee smell funny for DAYS.

The heat of my passion for Neville Longbottom would have been more than enough to carry me through, but I ALSO had reading partners who made me spit coffee every Friday, right on schedule. And sometimes we also cried. But we cried together. And then we looked at more pictures of post-puberty Matthew Lewis, and all was well again.

So thank you, friends, for making this first read so memorable.

To be followed by a 10-minute group hug.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Readalong 4: "My word, Severus, that I shall never reveal the best of you?"

First of all, let me just say . . . Being Sad is not my most beloved of leisure activities, and I have spent more time Being Sad in my leisure time this past week than doing anything else. AND I BLAME ALL OF YOU.

Teddy is my only friend now.

There were just a couple of times when I took a break from Being Sad to be Cautiously Amused. Like when Ginny thought she heard Ron and Hermione say something about the bathroom right before disappearing together for a prolonged period of time. (They were gathering Basilisk fangs in the Chamber of Secrets, obviously. Geez. Get your minds out of the gutter.)

Speaking of Ron and Hermione going on solo missions to remote parts of Hogwarts, the first time WE see them kiss is the first time Harry sees them kiss, which is right after Ron says a nice thing about house-elves. But I’m not entirely convinced that was their first kiss. Almost completely certain it wasn’t, actually. Or maybe it was. I just realized I’m not all that invested in this theory.

But do you know what theory I AM invested in? (Look at all my smooth segues today! I’ve just ruined them by pointing them out, haven’t I?) The good ship Potterfoy. I will go DOWN with that ship holding tight to just a couple of tidbits. I can live off tidbits for AGES.

Tidbit #1: "'Don’t kill him! DON’T KILL HIM!' Malfoy yelled at Crabbe and Goyle, who were both aiming at Harry" (pp. 631–631).

Tidbit #2: "Malfoy was screaming and holding Harry so tightly it hurt" (p. 634).

Damn. Fresh out of tidbits.

Another theory I’ve been working on (i.e., thought of just now) has to do with perhaps the only big secret Severus Snape succeeded in taking to his grave. 

"With a tingle of horror, Harry saw in the distance a huge, batlike shape flying through the darkness toward the perimeter wall." (p. 599)

Snape was Batman.

I didn’t shed actual tears at any point in this last book. (There was a LOT of lip trembling and throat tightening. I’m not a robot.) But the most emotional moments for me were the ones that continued a tiny thread from the very first book. Like when Hermione yells at Ron: "Are you a wizard, or what?" (p. 651). And when Hagrid tenderly carries through the woods what he thinks is Harry’s body . . . much like when Hagrid carried a smaller Harry to the doorstep of Number 4 Privet Drive. And when we see through Snape’s memories how hurt Petunia was that she wasn’t magical like her little sister—a hurt she carried into adulthood. And when Neville’s Gryffindor qualities (the ones that made it possible for him to stand up to his friends in those little-boy PJs) fully manifest in the absence of Harry, Ron, and Hermione at Hogwarts.

It’s like, in this last section, everyone’s very best qualities come out (even Kreacher’s). Which makes it all the more painful when some of these people are taken away from us.

And that means I can’t put this off any longer. It’s time for the final, and most painful . . .

1. Crabbe (burned in hellfire of his own making)

2. Fred (I refuse to talk about it.)

3. Lavender Brown (fell from a balcony; briefly savaged by Fenrir Grayback)

4. Severus Snape (received Hicky of Death from Nagini)

5. Lupin and Tonks (manner of death unknown)

6. Colin Creevey (manner of death unknown)

7. Bellatrix (cursed by badass Mama Weasley)

8. Voldemort (was his own undoing)

9. Fifty others (I'm sure they died bravely and well.)

And Draco and Harry AREN'T best friends in 19 years?!

Harry Potter and the Deathly Readalong 3: The week of ladies in particular kicking arse

This section was packed with more action than Hermione could stuff in her magical beaded purse. Fred (or maybe George?) made a funny about Snape's distaste for hair-cleaning products. Bellatrix called Dobby a "dirty little monkey," which is offensive to house elves everywhere. Harry is making all kinds of grown-up decisions and putting all his faith in Dumbledore's wisdom at last. We learned what really happened in the Dumbledore family when Albus and Aberforth were teenagers, and only SOME of it involved goats (The Hog's Head smells faintly of goats! I get it now!). All these loose ends being tied up remind me that there's only one week left in what has started to feel like the Harry Potter Readalong of NEVER-ENDING Awesomeness. I don't know whether to be relieved or despondent.

I'm about 3 to 1 on this.

Look, I hate to keep revisiting the whole "wands are penises" thing (it pains me, really it does), but after that argument with my husband I feel like I have to defend my stance a little more. And, well . . .

Wands are only as powerful as the wizards who use them. Some wizards just like to boast that theirs are bigger and better than other people's. (p. 415)

I think I can probably plant my victory flag on that one.

On a related note, I was impressed to learn that Bellatrix's wand is 12 3/4 inches and unyielding. I think that's the longest wand in the series, aside from Voldemort's. Which I think says something about her overall lady power, be it evil or otherwise. (It's evil. She's totally evil.)

And I HARDLY think that's appropriate, Bellatrix.

Also, Hermione saved everyone's mortal soul numerous times in this section. Thinking on her feet in Xenophilius Lovegood's house and Disapparating with Ron and Harry WHILE FALLING THROUGH THE FLOOR. Girl's got skills. And then she withstood prolonged torture in Malfoy Manor without telling Bellatrix anything useful or true.

Also this:

She's tough, Luna, much tougher than you'd think. She's probably teaching all the inmates about Wrackspurts and Nargles. (p. 425)

True story.

I have another question this week. When Peter Pettigrew hesitates to kill Harry for that brief moment in the basement at Malfoy Manor and his own magical hand strangles him instead . . . I don't exactly understand what happened there. Was the hand enchanted so that if he ever failed to kill Harry, he would die? Because what if he didn't kill Harry right then because he knew Voldemort wanted to kill Harry himself. That's all anyone ever says: "Don't kill Potter. The Dark Lord wants that honor for himself," blah blah, ad nauseam. So if Pettigrew HAD killed Harry right then, he would have been in capital T trouble with his boss. And that is what we in the business call a Catch-22 . . . or else a poorly written plot device, I'm sad to say.

And now, for Week 3 . . .

1. Ted Tonks (Did he know he was a grandfather? Stop it, too sad.)
2. Dirk Cresswell (I have no memory of this person and feel pretty bad about it.)
3. Gornuk the goblin (Their eyes with no whites are creepy, right?)
4. A Muggle family of five ("unnamed, but no less regretted")
5. Dobby, a free elf (I'm so sorry I called you the Jar Jar Binks of the Harry Potter series! I feel just awful about that now.)

Harry Potter and the Deathly Readalong 2: Evil incarnate is not an accessory

In this week’s installment of The Deathly Hallows, the Magnificent Trio ignores just the whole message of Lord of the Rings and WEARS THE EVIL JEWELRY; Umbridge uses Moody’s magical eye to spy on her employees (someone fetch me a centaur); Ron throws a tantrum, right on schedule; Dumbledore frustrates Harry with his secrecy, from the GRAVE (masterfully done, sir); I go a little crazy not knowing what Neville/Luna/Ginny are up to back at Hogwarts; and Ron delights me with his continued use of “effing” as an adjective (I can't stay mad at you, you pseudo-bad-boy, you).

Who else—besides Ron and Hermione—was super uncomfortable during that Lupin/Harry confrontation?

“Harry, I’m sure James would have wanted me to stick with you.” 

“Well,” said Harry slowly, “I’m not. I’m pretty sure my father would have wanted to know why you aren’t sticking with your own kid, actually.”

So this is what everyone was talking about when they said they love Lupin in Prisoner of Azkaban but not so much later. I was certain that I would love ALL the Lupins. And I’ve been trying to justify his behavior—as I’m so adept at doing for Snape (he kills because he LOVES, you guys)—but there’s just not . . . nope, I can’t do it. He has been AWFUL to Tonks in public. Who knows how he treats her in private, but statistics tell us . . . probably not so good. So what, dude? You accidentally put a werewolf fetus in the woman you love. If you feel so bad about it, maybe don’t then ABANDON YOUR WIFE AND CHILD. That is not an empirically proven solution to accidental pregnancy. Now get out of here. I can’t look at you right now. (Don't worry, I'll forgive you in like 5 minutes.)

Do you know who I DO want to look at? One Gellert Grindelwald. Oh, surprise, I have a crush on another fictional character. Everyone pick your jaws up off the floor. He has golden hair. He is handsome. He is a tricksy thiever with a sense of humor. He crows with laughter (I DO love a good crow laugh). He was best friends with Dumbledore. He may or may not be (he totally is) evil.

And I’m SO glad that I’m going into this book already knowing about the “Grindelwald and Dumbledore: Starcross’d Lovers” angle. Because lines like this are 10 times more enjoyable:

“I don’t know who he loved, Hermione, but it was never me. This isn’t love, the mess he’s left me in. He shared a damn sight more of what he was really thinking with Gellert Grindelwald than he ever shared with me.”

YEAH, he did.

Question: When Voldemort saw Grindelwald steal the wand in Gregorovitch’s memory, wouldn’t he have recognized him right away? It seems like Grindelwald was pretty damn notorious in his day, and in general. So wouldn't his picture have been . . . places? And if he was in line to be the most powerful dark wizard of all time until Voldemort showed up, you would THINK Voldemort would have a passing familiarity with his handsome, laughing face. No? Am I way off? Be gentle.

Other question: I don’t remember for SURE (and am too lazy to look, apparently), but I don’t think the Polyjuice Potion changed Ron’s and Harry’s voices into Crab’s and Goyle’s back when they first used it in . . . I don’t even remember which book that was THEY ALL RUN TOGETHER (Chamber of Secrets. It was Chamber of Secrets). Yet here we are using Polyjuice Potion again in the Ministry of Magic, and Harry is speaking in Runcorn’s “deep and gravelly” voice. So what gives, yo?

And now . . . *drumroll* . . . for Week 2 . . .

1. Gregorovitch

2. Bathilda Bagshot

3. Harry’s wand (may it rest in pieces)

4. Dumbledore’s reputation

5. A piece of Voldemort’s soul that particularly dislikes gingers

I’ll let you know if I forgot anyone after I read Laura’s post.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Readalong 1: Merlin had a saggy left . . . earlobe

I know this is the last book, and I haven’t been saying this for any of these posts . . . but it’s my duty to warn you that I am about to spoil the ever-fondled Horklumps out of this book. And that means spoiling the whooooole series. So watch yourself, you person who still hasn’t read the books and/or seen the movies. (I see you there, you last unicorn, you.)

So that William Penn quote at the beginning? “Death is but crossing the world, as friends do the seas; they live in one another still”?

Just be straight with us, Rowling.

But I’m not ready to talk about that yet. NOT ready.

I just casually mentioned to my husband the other night that Rowling was getting out of control with her wand euphemisms, and he was AGHAST that I could be so horrible as to see phallic imagery in this most beloved of children’s series. And *I* was aghast that he didn’t already realize this series is chock FULL of phallic imagery. And then we argued. And then I went to Twitter, where I was sure to find support for my case. And Kayleigh came to my immediate aid with a “wands are wangs” comment. And now my husband just thinks we’re ALL dirty. (He's not wrong, ya'll.)

But I promised you penis jokes:

“He drew out his own wand and compared the lengths.” (I’ve HEARD that guys do this.)

Ron talking about a book that teaches boys how to get girls: “You’d be surprised, it’s not all about wandwork, either.” (I mean, come ON. It’s right there.)

On a more serious note, when I was reading that obituary Elphias Doge wrote for Dumbledore, I was thinking that could EASILY have been Ron writing about Harry. They met at the age of 11 on the first day at Hogwarts. Dumbledore was already notorious at the school because of something his dad did.

“Our mutual attraction was undoubtedly due to the fact that we both felt ourselves to be outsiders. . . .

Being continually outshone was an occupational hazard of being his friend.” 

SCHOOL FRIENDS. And also Dumbledore being dead still. And also Elphias Doge's dandelion hair topped with a fez. *sniffle*

And with that, I can’t avoid it anymore. Two-hundred pages in, and there have been DEATHS.

1. Hedwig (I HATE EVERYTHING)

2. George’s ear (*weeps prematurely for twin things to come*)

3. Mad-Eye Moody (Meh)

**EDITED TO ADD that Laura's post reminded me Charity Burbage and Rufus Scrimgeour also died in this section. Sorry, Charity and Rufus, but I didn't care about you overly much.**

The Tales of Beedle the Bard, and how we should all be wary of small children

This made a perfect intermission between the Feelings Ravager that was Half-Blood Prince and the I-don't-even-know-what-but-I'm-terrified-to-find-out of Deathly Hallows. I had, of course, never read this. And I didn't have a good idea what it was; so when I went to pick it up from the library, I was a little surprised to find a book for small people on my holds shelf.

Here's the thing though: It's a children's book that doesn't feel too childish. Which I appreciated as a grown-up lady and also would have appreciated when I was a small person. Because I was one of those kids who read A Clockwork Orange at the age of 8 and immediately declared it my favorite book—until I read American Psycho. (Just kidding.) Little Megs wore howling wolves T-shirts (unironically) and simply had no time for sweet little tales of "hoppitty pots." The truth is, being a child is terrifying. The things that go on in our brains? You don't even want to know, adults. You don't EVEN want to know.

It's a horror show in there.

Probably the most gruesome story in the bunch, and therefore my favorite, is "The Warlock's Hairy Heart." In a nutshell, a fabulously wealthy and attractive warlock, to spare himself from becoming a silly boy in love, uses Dark Magic to remove his heart. He ages and continues to smugly mock his silly friends and their silly families, thinking himself quite enviable. But then he overhears his servants talking about him as though he is to be pitied, a poor aging warlock with no one to love him. So he resolves to get married and make them jealous once and for all.

He sets about trying to trick a lovely rich witch into thinking he can feel things. But she somehow knows he's not quite right in the feeler and casually says, "If only you had a heart." And then he says, "Aha! But that's where you're wrong." And he takes her into his dungeon to show her that he does indeed have a heart, and here it is in the crystal casket right where he left it. It just needs a little brushing because it grew hair from lack of attention. And the maiden begs him to put it back in his chest where it belongs, so he DOES. And she hugs him with her soft white arms. And he is overwhelmed with the feelings that he hasn't been feeling for so many years (and probably also puberty), and his heart is like a tiny misguided animal that urges him to rip out the maidens heart and . . . lick and stroke it, for some reason? And I guess he was planning to replace his hairy, shriveled heart with this nice shiny new one. But he died instead.

Isn't it romantic?

Other things I learned from Beedle (rather, from Dumbledore's commentary):

• There was a much worse Care of Magical Creatures teacher before Hagrid. Sixty-two probationary periods. Missing most of his limbs. So you can just shut right up, Parvati Patil.
• "There is not a witch or wizard in existence whose blood has not mingled with that of Muggles." So all that pure-blood business is malarkey? Excellent.
• It's all fun and games until someone is caught fondling some Horklumps.

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Readalong 2: All aboard the SS Potterfoy (warning: not a party boat)

After several years of avoiding the Harry Potter series for this VERY reason, I’ve finally read through to the end of The Half-Blood Prince. I only survived with the help of alcohol and my good friends Simon and Garfunkel, but survive I did . . . unlike some *choke* people *SOB*.

A quick recap before we get into the finer points of Rowling’s sadomasochistic tendencies. This week, Ron said Hermione’s name in his sleep, casually dropped the L word, and comfortingly stroked her hair (mere CRUMBS for your starving readers, Rowling?); McLaggen is a bit overeager to replace Ron as Keeper the very same night Ron nearly dies from being mysteriously poisoned (McLaggen isn't invited to join my Crime Team . . . if I should ever assemble one *looks around shiftily*); Peeves gets his giggles in increasingly more pervy ways (Hey, remember when Peeves forced Neville to burn his own pants off? Good times.); Slughorn earns our pity, if not our admiration (But how DARE he twinkle? He is NOT allowed to twinkle.); there is a giant, bloody axe hidden in the Room of Requirement, which is concerning to no one; and we meet Disappointed Dumbles, the very WORST variety of Dumbles (“I would have hoped that you returned to the task I set you.”).

This cone of shame belongs to all of us.

Our dear friend (and author of that book we all love to an unhealthy degree) Sunshine McSprinklecan (NOT her actual name, unfortunately) exhorted us to pay heed to the tell-tale signs of a possible romantic connection between Draco and Harry. And because we have not yet fully satisfied the unwritten rule of every readalong (i.e., MAKE EVERYONE GAY^TM), I have been taking this suggestion very seriously.

Evidentiary support from just THIS week’s section:

“I met Malfoy,” Harry told her quietly, as he pulled his scarlet robes over his head.
“So?”
“So I wanted to know how come he’s up at the castle with a couple of girlfriends while everyone else is down here. . . .”

“Yeah, we don’t need to hear about you being in love with Malfoy,” Harry told Kreacher.

Harry tried every variation of “I need to see what Draco Malfoy is doing inside you” that he could think of for a whole hour.  

Where, Harry wondered, was Malfoy now, and what was Voldemort making him do under threat of killing him and his parents?

OK subtext...I see you now.

So here’s Malfoy, with this profound yearning to do something that matters, to earn the approval of his male authority figure (in this case, Voldemort), and maybe even to make up for the failings of his dad, who as we know has been somewhat of a dud Death Eater. But he’s wasting away under the burden of this horrible responsibility. He is so desperate to unburden himself that he turns to Myrtle. And when Myrtle is the only one you can talk to, your circumstances are dire INDEED.

So when Harry finally catches Malfoy in a moment of weakness, doubled over the sink in the boy’s lavatory, weeping and lamenting his fate, and when Malfoy looks up and their eyes meet in the hazy glass of the bathroom mirror . . . I briefly hoped that they would recognize in each other their twin hurts. That maybe they would call a truce.

But then the wands come out.

And it’s so curious to me that in the same chapter where Harry and Draco have this epic face-off (which is, in many ways, the culmination of every snide remark and resentful glare they’ve exchanged since their first meeting almost 7 years ago), Harry and Ginny share their first kiss completely out of the blue. That juxtaposition just doesn’t feel like a coincidence to me. It feels like blowing off steam.

And now sad things that are sad.

In this book, we really see the father/son relationship deepen between Harry and Dumbledore. Harry is finally confiding in Dumbledore the way he should have been all along. The conversations they have during their private lessons are some of the most poignant exchanges in the whole series. Dumbledore expertly dismisses the idea of manifest destiny and fate that the prophecy inevitably brings up for Harry. And with that, he sets Harry free.

It was, he thought, the difference between being dragged into the arena to face a battle to the death and walking into the arena with your head held high. Some people, perhaps, would say that there was little to choose between the two ways, but Dumbledore knew—and so do I, thought Harry, with a rush of fierce pride, and so did my parents—that there was all the difference in the world.

And in the cave, we see this heartbreaking role reversal. When Dumbledore drinks the potion to gain access to the Horcrux, he becomes childlike and weak, which FORCES Harry into the leadership role he has been reluctant to accept since Book 1. In so many ways, this is the moment when Dumbledore passes the mantel to Harry. This is where he declares to Harry louder than any words could ever do that Harry is strong enough to face the path ahead . . . without Dumbledore.

“I am not worried, Harry,” said Dumbledore, his voice a little stronger despite the freezing water. “I am with you.”

I need someone to ruffle my hair comfortingly.

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Readalong 1: I would name MY Pygmy Puff "Tribble"

I don't know if I'm still recovering from the end of Order of the Phoenix or if Jupiter is in retrograde or my panties are in a twist, but all I have for you today are bullet points. Bullet points squeezed from what's left of my shriveled little raisin of a heart.

• NOOOOO, AMELIA BONES.

We hardly knew thee.

• Why does Narcissa Malfoy look exactly like her husband? I know there's a good deal of in-breeding in Wizarding World, but the physical evidence suggests that they are twins. And this might explain the curious shape of Draco's head.

• Bellatrix and Snape, I'm sure Voldemort loves you both equally.

"But what use have you been?" sneered Bellatrix. "What useful information have we had from you?"

"My information has been conveyed directly to the Dark Lord," said Snape. "If he chooses not to share it with you—"

"He shares everything with me!" said Bellatrix, firing up at once. "He calls me his most loyal, his most faithful—"

"Does he?" said Snape, his voice delicately inflected to suggest his disbelief. "Does he still, after the fiasco at the Ministry?"

"That was not my fault!" said Bellatrix, flushing.

• I rather like the sound of this sentence: "Narcissa looked up at him, her face eloquent with despair."

• Even when the adult in question is of the naughty variety, it makes me uncomfortable when Harry mouths off. I would never, just never talk to a grown-up the way he talks to Narcissa in Madam Malkin's shop. I would, instead, quietly craft a passive-aggressive tweet to be posted at my earliest convenience.

• This is the greatest: "Harry started to laugh. He heard a weak sort of moan beside him and looked around to see Mrs. Weasley gazing, dumbfounded, at the poster. Her lips moved silently, mouthing the name 'U-No-Poo.' 'They'll be murdered in their beds!' she whispered."

• Ginny named her pink and/or purple Pygmy Puff "Arnold." Trevor and Arnold are sure to be the best of friends.

• "The usual," said Ron indifferently, demonstrating a rude hand gesture. "Not like him, though, is it? Well—that is"—he did the hand gesture again.

Just so we're clear . . . THIS rude hand gesture?

Harry Potter and the Order of the Readalong 4: The fate of the known world rests in the hands of a boy who doesn't unwrap his packages in a timely manner

We’re done with Order of the Phoenix. Our feels are bruised and battered, and yet we proceed stalwartly onward.

Here’s the haps, clicky: We learn that people with speech impediments cannot do magic (somewhere, Stephen Hawking is weeping silently); Dumbledore deserves all the hugs (“Harry looked up at him and saw a tear trickling down Dumbledore’s face into his long silver beard.”); I desire to know what the centaurs were doing with Umbridge for an entire night (and also don’t want to know even a little bit); “Lord Thingy” is the best Voldemort name substitute yet; Neville strokes his Mimbulus mimbletonia, and several readers find themselves wishing they were a gray cactus covered in oozy boils; and we learn that Harry had a two-way mirror with which to communicate directly with Sirius WRAPPED IN HIS SUITCASE FOR THE ENTIRETY OF THE BOOK.

But if you prefer to stick your head in a sworn enemy's fireplace,
BY ALL MEANS.

I have for Hagrid some simple steps to making a good decision: (1) Don’t remove Grawp from the mountains. (2) Leave Grawp in the mountains. (3) If you MUST remove Grawp from the mountains, don’t bring Grawp near a school. (4) Don’t introduce your small friends to Grawp, that they may become tasty morsels in Grawp’s tummy.

But Hagrid has ignored all my advice. Just all of it.

Surely, this is the best sentence in all of literature:

“The baby-headed Death Eater had appeared in the doorway, his head bawling, his great fists flailing uncontrollably at everything around him.” (p. 793)

Also this:

“I doubt it,” shouted tiny Professor Marchbanks, “not if Dumbledore doesn’t want to be found! I should know. . . . Examined him personally in Transfiguration and Charms when he did N.E.W.T.s . . . Did things with a wand I’d never seen before . . .” (p. 711) 

Alice was asking me a few days ago who we should ship with Harry, in a perfect world where Ginny actually ends up with someone who deserves her. I still think Harry should probably be single forever, BUT I nominate Neville for the role of Best Friend (sorry, Ron).

Yes, ALL Harry’s friends are loyal, but in the Ministry of Magic, none were more loyal than our dear Neville. Not only does he repeatedly refuse to leave Harry’s side, but he bravely faces up to the loony woman who robbed him of his parents (and I become uncomfortably aroused for the eleventy-millionth time since this readalong began).

This enduring friendship makes sense on so many levels. Neville and Harry are both technical orphans, and loyal/stubborn Neville ultimately saves Harry’s life by jamming Hermione’s wand in McNair’s eyehole (you should probably give that a good polish back at the school, Hermione). But even more than that, Neville is essentially Alternate Universe Harry, because it could have been he who was destined to face off with Lord Voldemort, according to the prophecy and all that. And if events had panned out that way, and Voldemort HAD marked Neville instead of Harry, I think he would have kicked just as much ass as Harry, if not more. And there would have been weaponized flora involved.

Harry Potter and the Order of the Readalong 3: "Always listen to the woman."

We're three fourths of the way through Order of the Phoenix (minus maybe four chapters, because I have not finished this week's section), and here's the (partial) news from Wizard Town:

Ron gives Hermione perfume for Christmas (going steady); Hermione gives both Ron and Harry homework planners for Christmas (friend zone); Kreacher has a cherished photograph of Bellatrix in his hidey-hole (Kreacher and Bellatrix sitting in a tree, C-R-U-C-I-A-T-U-S-ing); even wizards aren't safe from the horrors of WebMD ("The various healers called out to them, diagnosing odd complaints and suggesting horrible remedies."); Sirius is no match for Snape in a war of words ("I've warned you, Snivellus." Nice try, Sirius.); occlumency is defense against . . . external penetration(?); and Harry stares into the fire and wishes "more than anything that Sirius's head would appear there and give him advice about girls."

I think Dumbledore knows more about the womens than Sirius does.

I think maybe Harry's angst is interfering with his ability to remember basic facts.

"You survived when you were just a baby," she said quietly.

"Yeah, well," said Harry wearily, moving toward the door, "I dunno why, nor does anyone else, so it's nothing to be proud of."

Uh . . . yeah, you DO know why you survived, and so does everyone else because Dumbledore told you at the end of the last book and probably a few other times before that. And I'm glad you think your mother's ultimate sacrifice is nothing to be proud of, YOU TWAT.

But it's OK, because within the span of 5 pages, he gets verbally spanked first by the painting of Phineas Nigellus and then by Ginny. And it. is. glorious.

"Young people are so infernally convinced that they are absolutely right about everything. Has it not occurred to you, my poor puffed-up popinjay, that there might be an excellent reason why the headmaster of Hogwarts is not confiding every tiny detail of his plans to you? Have you never paused, while feeling hard-done-by, to note that following Dumbledore's orders has never yet led you into harm? No. No, like all young people, you are quite sure that you alone feel and think, you alone recognize danger, you alone are the only one clever enough to realize what the Dark Lord may be planning. . . ." (p. 496)

Of course, this Truth Bomb ricochets right off of Harry's thick head. But the Ginny Sniper Rifle comes in and finishes him off.

"I didn't want anyone to talk to me," said Harry, who was feeling more and more nettled.

"Well that was a bit stupid of you," said Ginny angrily, "seeing as you don't know anyone but me who's been possessed by You-Know-Who, and I can tell you how it feels."

Harry remained quite still as the impact of these words hit him. Then he turned on the spot to face her.

"I forgot," he said.

"Lucky you," said Ginny coolly. (pp. 499-500)

I think we're done here.

Harry Potter and the Order of the Readalong 2: "Does Barry Manilow know that you raid his wardrobe?"

We're halfway through Order of the Phoenix, and I'm dying to tell you all these things that are in no way relevant to the plot:

Harry uses sarcasm correctly at last ("Wow, I wonder what it'd be like to have a difficult life?" GOOD ONE, HARRY); Snape assigns an essay on moonstones, making him an honorary (if fictional) member of the Wilkie Collins Fan Club; Snape says the word abysmal, causing me to fan myself dramatically; Dean Thomas misuses a mouse ("Dean Thomas, if you do that to the mouse again I shall put you in detention." WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO THAT MOUSE, DEAN THOMAS?); Harry should unhand small magical creatures before talking business ("Harry had gripped the bowtruckle so hard that it had almost snapped." "Harry looked down; he was indeed squeezing his bullfrog so tightly its eyes were popping."); Umbridge succeeds where others have failed in making me sympathize with Trelawney; and I decide that, no, there is nothing WORSE than a self-satisfied smile.

RAAAAAAAGE.

So you know how we all kind of resent Cho Chang for breathing, because we know that Harry is supposed to be with Ginny? WELL, I have an idea for viewing this situation in a way that may spare poor Cho the weight of our collective and misplaced wrath. Let's think of these three as Superman characters, can we? So if Harry is Clark Kent/Superman, that would make Ginny his Lois Lane and Cho his Lana Lang. Lana is just his high school sweetheart, a perfectly lovely girl who cannot in any way compare to Lois Lane . . . because Lois is a proper pain in the ass and just what Clark needs. So what I'm saying is, we should all let Cho have her moment before Ginny sweeps in and captures Harry with her no-nonsense attitude and skillful Bat-Bogey Hex.

"If I say no, can I still kiss you on the mouth?"

TELL me this isn't the most convoluted sentence structure.

When the bell echoed distantly over the grounds Harry rolled up his bloodstained bowtruckle picture and marched off to Herbology with his hand wrapped in a handkerchief of Hermione's and Malfoy's derisive laughter still ringing in his ears. (pp. 260-261)

You can't. Because it is, in fact, the worst sentence ever constructed. It took me three reads to realize that we weren't dealing with a handkerchief literally composed of Hermione's and Malfoy's derisive laughter, and I don't appreciate that, Rowling's Editor.

Harry's angst has been manageable so far, in my opinion. And one rant I found particularly helpful was his enthusiastic effort to convince Ron and Hermione that he's really NOT all that and a bag of chips. He emphasized that his many triumphs over evil thus far were accomplished only with the help of others and a great deal of luck. And I quite appreciate this effort to share the credit, because he HAS had a boatload of help every step of the way. Which I realize is the point. So I'm glad he ALSO realizes that. So yeah.

But Harry really needs to watch his mouth with Umbridge, for serious . . . and also for Sirius. He's starting to remind me more and more of a certain plaid-wearing bad boy in a certain '80s movie.

Never you mind my lifelong attraction to John Bender.
NEVER YOU MIND THAT.

Harry Potter and the Order of the Readalong 1: Luna is not perturbed

We're a quarter of the way into Order of the Phoenix, and SO MUCH is happening already.

Dudley has friends (?); Harry continues to take Hedwig for granted (dude, at least let her eat her frog in peace); Moody advises against stowing one's wand in one's back pocket due to the possibility of blowing off one's butt cheek (which makes me think of all the times Harry tucked his wand in his FRONT waste band . . . HE-llo); someone finally hints at the fact that Ginny is kind of a bad ass ("Yeah, size is no guarantee of power. Look at Ginny."); Ron bites the heads off chocolate frogs RIGHT in front of Trevor (rude, Ron, really rude); the Sorting Hat proves that Hufflepuff is officially the only House without a superiority complex; and Rowling secretly wishes she were named Nymphadora.

No one is surprised, you dirty bird.

We get to see a lot more of Mrs. Weasley in this part, which is fantastic. But she's stuck with the job of Den Mother to all these unruly witches and wizards, in addition to caring for the actual children and cleaning the Noble House of Black. She puts on a brave face, but the cracks start to show when Sirius wants to involve Harry in the doings of the Order of the Phoenix. And just in case that wasn't clue enough of her distressed mental state, the Boggart cleared up any remaining confusion by posing as one dead loved one after another and reducing Mrs. Weasley to a sobbing, ineffectual-against-a-Boggart mess. What a dick move, Boggart.

ALSO kind of a dick? Kreacher. He's gone completely batty after years of isolation in that awful house, his only company the unpleasant portrait of Mistress Black and the mounted heads of his fellow house-elves. But lest you feel anything akin to sympathy for him,

Kreacher fixed him with a watery stare and said, "Master must do as Master wishes," before turning away and muttering very loudly, "but Master will not turn Kreacher away, no, because Kreacher knows what they are up to, oh yes, he is plotting against the Dark Lord, yes, with these Mudbloods and traitors and scum. . . ." (p. 118)

FILTHY HOBBITSES.

Also, Kreacher was caught snogging his dead master's trousers. That seemed important to mention.

I know everyone will probably be talking about Luna and Umbridge this week. I can't REALLY talk about Umbridge because I stopped reading right before her big chapter, but I am interested to know how one wears a cardigan sweater OVER a robe.

And as for Luna, well . . . I'm just so glad she's finally here and WHY HAVEN'T WE BEEN FRIENDS WITH HER SINCE SECOND YEAR? Now I can finally get going on this Neville/Luna ship.

Anchors aweigh!

Harry Potter and the Readalong of Fire 4: All twinkling suspended until further notice

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.

RIGHT, Rowling?

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?