Deathly Hallows, Chapter 5: Fallen Warrior

[oneandthetruth.livejournal.com]

Harry wakes up in the pond. Apparently it’s deep enough to keep him from getting killed on impact, but not deep enough to risk his drowning while he was unconscious. Since you can drown in 3 inches/6 cm of water, I’m not sure how this works.

He is discovered by Ted and Andromeda Tonks, then promptly passes out again. When he comes to, he’s on their couch, having been healed of a broken arm and broken ribs. Ted Tonks has also regrown Harry’s tooth that was knocked out during the battle. Whew! Good thing Ted’s better at healing charms than Harry is.

Explain to me again why, if these serious injuries can be healed by magic, and Harry’s missing arm bone could be regenerated with a potion in CoS, he’s still wearing Coke-bottle glasses. Even stupid, incompetent “muggles” have been successfully making surgical corrections of myopia since the 1980s. For that matter, since Harry has plenty of money, he could get surgical correction once he reaches legal age in the non-magical world. Yet in the crapilogue, he’s still wearing glasses. Why? Does he think it gives him a “man of the people” or “vulnerable hero” air? After everything he’s been through, you wouldn’t think he’d be afraid of a little surgery.

Once Harry is awake, he insists on making sure Hagrid’s okay. The Tonkses are understandably worried about their daughter--interestingly enough, they make no mention of their new son-in-law--but of course Harry doesn’t know what happened to anyone else. He suffers an attack of inappropriate guilt, insisting that if anyone was injured or killed because of this plan, it’s all his fault. It’s not his fault because the plan was sprung on him, and he was told he’d be forced into it if he didn’t consent. Why does he feel guilty about this thing that isn’t his fault, but he had no problem with almost killing Draco in the last book? Is it because anyone involved in this fiasco was a non-Slytherin, as far as he knows, so their pain matters, but a Slytherin’s doesn’t? (Insert appropriate quotation from The Merchant of Venice here.) Sure, Draco was about to Crucio Harry, but Harry could have defended himself in several ways without using Sectumsempra. If he could win by using Expelliarmus against DEs in battle and Voldemort in the final confrontation, he certainly could have done the same in the boys’ bathroom. More screwed up, contradictory morality. *sigh*

Harry and Hagrid go into another room to take a Portkey to the Burrow, and Hagrid asks about Hedwig. Harry again feels more grief for her than he apparently did love during her lifetime, and Hagrid makes the kind of insincere condolences that people often do in such situations.

When they arrive at the Burrow, they find out they’re the first to arrive, even though they were supposed to be third. Lupin and a maimed George arrive right after. Well, at least nobody will have trouble telling the twins apart any more--for as long as they’re both alive anyway. Bwahahahaha!

Lupin insists on making sure Harry is really Harry, and lectures him about the importance of fighting back when somebody’s attacking him. Harry thinks what for him is a strong insult: He compares Remus with “the sneering Hufflepuff Zacharias Smith, who had jeered at Harry for wanting to teach Dumbledore’s Army how to disarm.” Oh, no! He compared a Gryffindor with a Hufflepuff! The only way to get more insulting is to compare him with a Slytherin!

Harry insists, “I won’t blast people out of the way just because they’re there. That’s Voldemort’s job.” This is supposed to show us how much more virtuous he is than the bad guys, but all I could think was, “You mean you won’t blast them out of the way if you like them, like you do Stan Shunpike. If it’s somebody you can’t stand, like Draco or Snape, you’ve got no problem blasting them to Hell if you can.”

I guess this is also a difference between Harry and James, since Harry doesn’t attack people “just because they exist.” At least, he doesn’t if he likes them, and they’re not Slytherins. Oh, wait, I guess that’s not a difference at all.

This reminds me of a Buffy/HP crossover fanfic I tried to read a few years ago. I had to quit after a few chapters because the Harry was completely unbelievable, and I was nauseated by the saccharine narration. The narrator kept telling us how angelic Harry was, how he just radiated love and peace, and everybody loved being around him because he made them so happy. I said, “Okay, who is this, and what have you done with the real Harry Potter?” I mean, gosh, even Jesus chased the money lenders out of the temple with a whip.

When Kingsley and Hermione arrive, Kingsley has to make sure Harry and Remus are real. Remus proves himself by repeating what Dumbledore’s last words were to them: “Harry is the best hope we have. Trust him.” If that is indeed the case, you are so screwed, people. Fortunately, it’s not, no thanks to you. You have the eminently competent Severus Snape working behind the scenes to save your sorry asses.

That reminds me of a fanfic I’ve thought about writing. In it, Snape really is evil, and he tricks Dumbledore, Harry, and Voldemort into killing each other, then takes over the wizarding world as dictator.

Speaking of whom, when Lupin tells them it was Snape who cursed off George’s ear, he adds the wish he could have paid Snape back. I’m sorry Snape didn’t get Remus instead. That would have been payback for Lupin’s atrocious treatment of him over the years.

Arthur and Fred arrive and insist on seeing George. There’s a reference to Mr. Weasley’s bald patch. You’d think somebody as hung up on “muggle” stuff as he is would know about Rogaine. For that matter, why isn’t everyone in the wizarding world gorgeous? The only one who takes advantage of magic to improve their appearance is Hermione, and we all know she was corrupted by that depraved “muggle” culture. Is their lack of vanity supposed to indicate magicals are morally superior to the rest of us? Because if it is, that’s a very superficial kind of moral superiority. It’s better to be vain but not racist than racist but not vain.

When they realize Ron and Tonks haven’t arrived yet, Harry feels his fear for them “envelop[ing] him, seeming to crawl over his skin, throbbing in his chest, clogging his throat.” So fear is related to the “chest monster” of lust? Either that, or he’s got really bad GERD (gastroesophageal reflux disease).

When Ron and Tonks finally arrive, Tonks screams her husband’s name and immediately falls into his arms. Remus is somewhat less emotional. “His face was set and white: He seemed unable to speak.” No doubt he’s thinking, “Damn! I was hoping to get rid of you and get out of this sham marriage. Too bad if Ron dies, too, but you can’t have everything.” His lack of emotion continues as he “seem[s] almost angry at [her],” and can’t speak. Wow. He must be really disappointed she made it back.

Everyone is worried about those who haven’t showed up: Their “continued absence...seemed to lie upon them like a frost, its icy bite harder and harder to ignore.” This must be a precursor the “present death” we’re introduced to later in the chapter.

When Bill and Fleur arrive, Bill tells them Moody’s dead. “Harry felt as though something inside him was falling, falling through the earth, leaving him forever.” I’m sorry but--What? The? Hell? This makes absolutely no sense! Harry barely knew Mad-Eye, and he didn’t much like what he did know. Why does he feel like he’s skydiving without a parachute because some casual acquaintance just kicked the bucket? He reacts more strongly to the death of Mad-Eye than he does to his own death later in the book. This kid has some severely messed up emotions.

The group drinks a firewhisky toast to Mad-Eye and starts discussing who could have betrayed them to the Death Eaters. Harry says he trusts them all, and that if somebody did let something slip, it must have been an accident. Lupin gives him an almost-pitying look and says, “I think you’re like James, who would have regarded it as the height of dishonor to mistrust his friends.” Um, excuse me, Remus, but didn’t you get kicked out of the Potters’s inner circle when they went undercover precisely because James mistrusted you? So why are you now giving us this routine about how honorable and trusting he was?

And now we get to the most notorious line in this chapter: “The suddenness and completeness of death was like them with a presence.” NO! NO, IT WASN’T! THAT’S WRONG!

I think the reason people harp on the dumbness of this sentence is the sheer wrongness of it. When somebody you love dies, it’s not the presence of death you notice; it’s the absence of the dead loved one. Even if their corpse is there, it doesn’t matter because there’s no life force to animate it. A body with no spirit feels like a violation of the natural order, an obscenity, an abomination. In Loss: Sadness and Depression, psychiatrist John Bowlby points out that even very young children can tell the difference between a dead body and a living one because of the absolute stillness of the corpse. When Rowling treats death like “a presence,” she is displaying her own inability to deal with the reality of death by replacing the real presence of the dead loved one with the false presence of death.

Harry insists on leaving the Burrow, saying his own presence is like death, i.e., that he puts everyone in danger by staying there. This sounds noble, but it’s really ridiculous. Everybody there is in danger anyway because they are known enemies of Voldemort. Furthermore, Harry cannot possibly defeat the Dull Lord on his own. He has to have help from other people, and that will inevitably put them in danger. Going off on his own like the ultimate Dumb Gryffindor will only ensure Voldemort wins. If that happens, a lot more people will die than if Harry stuck with his friends and fought with them together.

Molly tries to persuade Harry to stay by offering to feed Hedwig, which brings on another gut-clench of grief on his part.

Harry tells everyone about his wand doing magic on its own. They all argue with him, insisting that’s not possible, and he was just doing accidental magic. Haven’t you gotten the memo, people? This is Harry Freakin’ Potter! He does not live by the rules you lesser beings do. The laws of magic that have been in effect for thousands of years are suspended by the mere presence of his awesomeness. Just as space itself bends around a massive object, magic itself bends around the massive greatness that is Harry Potter!

Harry feels agonizing pain in his scar, which leads to a Voldie-vision of Voldy torturing Ollivander. Hermione tells him he must close his mind to the Dark Lord. While Harry doesn’t outright refuse, the implication is clear that he will. So while his mind has been closed to the idea of decent Slytherins for the last six years, his mind is open to the one Slytherin who is indisputably evil and dangerous. This may be the best example of illogic in this series!

Comments

[terri-testing.livejournal.com]

What I love about this sporking is how you show how JKR's stupidity is fractal. From the detail of the pond deep enough to cushion his impact but not deep enough to drown him, to the unsupported emotions, to the infamous death line.

Nice analysis of what's wrong with it. Flat backwards, indeed. And I'd add, that my experiences of deaths where I didn't see the body (as here), it was even more the case that it was wrapping my mind around the dead one's absence that hit hard. (Heck, the poem I wrote when I was twenty about my understanding as an eleven-year-old of my father's death had more depth::
... and you never said good-bye, just were gone.
He's gone.
He's gone.
He's gone.
Dead's a word without a meaning.
What I know is you're not anywhere for me....)

Of course, as you point out, since no one, or at least not Harry, especially cares about Moody, no one can be expected to miss him except as a useful comrade. So I suppose reflecting about the suddenness and completeness of death substitutes for mourning and missing the person. I mean, it would be impolite to admit that one doesn't care, except for the shock and the reminder that this game they're playing might prove fatal.

And, of course, one other thing. Naturally Harry felt like he was falling when he learned of Mad-Eye's death--Moody had effectively taken over running the Order (note how Harry obeyed him and not McGonnagall), so Harry's just lost the last adult he trusted to be at all competent to protect him. Didn't have to care for the man to feel a sinking feeling that he was gone.

Want a really good book about the presence of absence, and how it really feels, and how death and grief and abandonment can shape someone, try Marilyn Robinson's Housekeeping. Don't read when you're feeling vulnerable, though.

[oneandthetruth.livejournal.com]

What I love about this sporking is how you show how JKR's stupidity is fractal.

Thank you for all the lovely praise in this post. I'm not sure what you mean by "fractal stupidity," though. I looked up the phrase but couldn't find any definition for it.

that my experiences of deaths where I didn't see the body (as here), it was even more the case that it was wrapping my mind around the dead one's absence that hit hard.

That's typical. I get into that in chapter 16, when Harry starts crying at his parents' graves, and I relate it to something I read about a woman whose husband was killed in WWII and buried overseas. She never saw his body or grave until decades later, when their son grew up and wanted to see where his father was buried. She started crying at his graveside and realized that, because she'd never seen physical proof of her husband's death, deep down she had never accepted it. She still believed he was out there somewhere and would come back to her.

That's why funerals and other grief rituals are so important. They give one's subconscious mind the opportunity to accept the permanent loss of the loved one. In the abovementioned book, Bowlby suggests that the human mind isn't designed to accept the permanence of death. When someone dies, you expect them to come back, hence the desire to call and look for them, set a place at the table, etc. There's nothing wrong with indulging in those behaviors, as long as they don't go on for months or years. They allow the acceptance of death to filter down from the conscious mind to the subconscious one.

Harry's just lost the last adult he trusted to be at all competent to protect him. Didn't have to care for the man to feel a sinking feeling that he was gone.

Good point. i hadn't thought of that. Of course, I've only read the books once each four years ago, except for DH, so I'm not an expert like you are.

Want a really good book about the presence of absence, and how it really feels, and how death and grief and abandonment can shape someone, try Marilyn Robinson's Housekeeping. Don't read when you're feeling vulnerable, though.

No, thank you. I have enough issues around those subject already. I don't need to exacerbate them.

[oryx_leucoryx]

Fractals look the same on any scale. Hence some things are fractally wrong or fractally stupid - they are wrong/stupid on any level or scale you examine them.