Deathly Hallows Chapter 18
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deathtocapslockDeathly Hallows Chapter 18
The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore
You know what I could go for in the story right about now? Another chapter of obsessing about Albus Dumbedore. I don't think we've had nearly enough of that yet. Sigh.
So, the sun is coming up but it 's not enlightenment this time. This time it's just a sun. Harry knows he ought to be grateful to be alive, but the vastness, I'm sorry, the pure, colorless vastness of the sky prompts him an existential crisis.
See, Harry's problem is that he can't trust Dumbledore. Why? Well, because Harry almost gotten eaten by a giant snake and his wand is broken into two pieces that even Super Hermione can't fix.
Why is it that Harry is always pissed off at exactly the wrong thing? Yes, I know I blamed Dumbledore last week for the ridiculous mazes he makes everybody run through—but I don't think Harry really should be. He and Hermione made that quest up out of whole cloth. And they proceeded with it in the face of overwhelming evidence that it was A Very Bad Idea.
So, Harry stands beneath the pure,colorless, vast and indifferent sky and becomes emo over all the crappy things that have happened to him. Losing blood more times than he can count. (To be fair, we have no reason to think that Harry can count above three.)
He lost all the bones in his arm once. Okay, but was that really Dumbledore's fault, Harry?
He has scars and trauma, but he never felt this weak before—not until he lost his wand. What is it with men and wands? It's not all that you are, men!
Actually, I think the emotional need for wands is an interesting thing. Lucius is going through the same thing, I imagine. Although why Lucius doesn't force (or bribe) Ollivander to make him a new wand, I'll never know. Maybe he did and we just never see it.
Anyway, Harry is so attuned to Hermione that he can hear her scolding before she even does it. The wand is only as good as the wizard. But Harry realizes that his twin core with Voldemort had protected him and now he's lost that—even if he does get another wand.
Yo, Harry. All those Voldie visions. You think he might be looking for a wand? In order to get past the protection of the twin cores? By the way, doesn't that protection only kick in if the spells intersect? Oh, wait. I forgot. Harry's wand was so special that it didn't even need the twin wand to start protecting him. It shot back at Voldemort when he was carrying a different wand.
Wacky wands. You never know what they'll do.
I'm surprised this doesn't come into play more in the series. We see Ron's wand backfiring in CoS, and we suffered five years of Neville being incompetent because he had to carry his father's wand (which I thought was pure metaphor for Augusta's unreasonable expectations). But you'd think there would be more awkwardness about casting if the wands were so important. They'd be less like having the right violin and more like training an Australian cattle dog.
Hehe. Harry notes that his mokeskin pouch is too full of broken and useless objects to hold any more. I'll bet that's supposed to be symbolic of something. That Harry prizes sentiment above practicality is the most obvious interpretation. For sheer sentiment he holds onto that Marauder's Map, instead of giving it to someone who could use it. Like Ginny.
Well, it's not like it was her birthday.
Thinking of the useless things he's carrying reminds Harry of the Snitch Dumbledore left him, which reminds him of how angry he is at Dumbledore. Harry then goes on to make the point I made last week about how Dumbleodre's absurdly mysterious clues and hints left him and Hermione groping in the dark. So, once again, JKR's characters are commenting on the stupidity of this whole quest.
But, of course, this is okay here because Harry's at his emotional nadir in this chapter. If you don't trust Dumbledore, what are you left with? Nothing. But how can you trust him when he refuses to talk in anything but riddles?
Oooo. It's like Dumbledore is God, right? And Harry is the Everyman having a spiritual crisis when Things Don't Go His Way.
Harry lists all the things he doesn't have. The sword. A wand. A clue. Meanwhile, Voldemort has a picture of the thief, which is everything. I guess. I'm not sure how it helps Voldemort, unless he starts standing on a street corner and showing it to random wizards. It's not like that photograph had a caption on it. He knew what the guy looked like before.
And it's not like he can ask Bathilda Bagshot who he is.
At this point, Hermione arrives to drive the final nail in Harry's coffin. She brings with her two cups of tea and "something bulky" under her arm. Two things: 1) How did Hermione make tea with no wand? I assume that stove in the tent has to be lit with something. 2) Harry is now so bibliophobic that he can't even recognize a book when it's carried by the person in the series most likely to have a book on her person.
Hermione, having had her sacrificial offering of tea accepted by Harry, begs the favor of talking to him. Geez. Now she's Dudley. I'm surprised she didn't leave it at his feet and creep back silently into the tent. But then, that wouldn't really advance the story, would it?
Harry grants her the favor of talking to him because he doesn't want to hurt her feelings. We're way beyond that, Harry. Look at the tea.
Hermione now makes the offering of the book: The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore. When he asks how she miraculously acquired this answer to their questions, she tells him she took it from Bathilda's sitting room. In other words, she stole it.
Harry doesn't care about that, of course. It wasn't Sirius's stuff, so it doesn't matter if someone steals it. All he feels is savage pleasure that he'll be able to find out all the stuff Dumbledore never bothered to tell him—whether Dumbledore wanted him to know it or not.
You know, this would probably play better dramatically if it wasn't a book by Rita Skeeter. We've read too many excerpts from Rita Skeeter's writings in the series to take anything she says seriously. Or, if maybe JKR can portrayed Rita Skeeter in a more honorable fashion. I don't mind journalists being shown as jackals, as long as their virtues--research and essential honesty—are respected. But that scene with Harry where her quill starts making stuff up for dramatic purpose shows her to be fundamentally dishonest. So, when Harry pounces her on book as a source of information about Dumbeldore, he just seems like an idiot.
"You're still really angry at me, aren't you?" asks Hermione with tears leaking out of her eyes. Okay, this is why I find Hermione annoying when she cries. Leaking. Two paragraphs later, she has a <.i>watery smile. Could there possibly be a more unattractive way of describing her? Yuck.
Harry opens the book (which, oddly, Hermione had not, even though she was sitting vigil with Harry all night) and sees the photograph of Dumbledore and the merry, wild, laughing thief, who is…. Dun, dun, DUNNNNN!... Gellert Grindelwald.
Grindelwald. You know. The guy from the chocolate frog card. The guy who Dumbledore defeated back in 1945. HITLER!
This discovery is so momentous that it prompts Harry into doing the unthinkable: reading. He finds a chapter entitled "The Greater Good" and we get another excerpt of Skeeter's writing. Six pages of it. Six.
Can I say something about these excerpts? I just don't buy them. I mean, I'll bet that JKR had a ball writing them. She probably laughed herself silly, because it's really fun to parody bad writing. But I just don't buy that Skeeter could actually write like this and sell books. Even as dishy bio, this bites. Mainly because it doesn't give any actual information. It's all tease. Certainly Dumbledore returned to Godric's Hollow at once, supposedly to "care" for his younger brother and sister . But how much care did he actually give them? I mean… that's not even an interesting question. Are her readers supposed to breathlessly read on to discover if he cut the crusts off their peanut butter and jelly sandwiches or not?
Then she doesn't go on to answer it, but to quote someone about how Aberforth was "wild" and chucked goat dung at people. Because anything with goats or dung is funny, so "goat dung" is twice as funny.
This information comes from Enid Smeek, whose family lived in Godric's Hollow. So, here's another person who seems older than the ancient Dumbledore.
What was Dumbledore doing instead of comforting his younger brother? Skeeter tells us that he was ensuring the continued imprisonment of Ariana. He can't do both at the same time? (I picture Albus with one arm around a weeping Abeforth, while holding the celllar door firmly shut with the other.)
Honestly, this is the dullest scandal I ever heard about.
So, then Rita writes about interviewing Bathilda Bagshot. Well, first she makes sure to mention how unreliable a source Bathilda is calling her "batty". Then Rita states that she used "tried-and-tested" reporting techniques (which just makes them sound unethical and unreliable) to get information from Bathilda.
Then she says that Bathilda confirmed that Ariana was frail and delicate, while simultaneously implying that this information is suspect. Then she teases us with the "full story" to come in the next few paragraphs.
So, at this point, she's mainly teased us with innuendo and no real information—and also put us on notice that her techniques at getting information are suspect. And that her sources are senile.
This doesn't give me any confidence that I'm going to find out any truth about Dumbledore. Even if I cared. Which I don't.
Hehe. So first big shoe to drop is that Gellert Grindelwald was visiting his great-aunt Bathilda (which would make her roughly 200 years old by the time of her death). Rita acknowledges that since Grindelwald's famous reign of terror didn't extend to Britain, people might not be aware of the details of his rise to power.
She then proceeds to tell us practically nothing about those details. The closest she comes is that he was thrown out of school because of his "twisted experiments." See, a good gossip writer would have told us what those experiments were. That's why you read a dishy bio. I don't want to know that Diana "played around" on Charles. I want to know who she was schtupping and that he called her "Squidgy" when he called her late at night.
That's what sells books.
Okay. Skeeter does give us the wizard's equivalent of a late-night cell phone call with Dumbledore's letter to Grindelwald. In this, he agrees with GG about the right of wizard dominance over Muggles, but insists that with great power comes great responsibility. He urges that world domination be done for THE GREATER GOOD (his capslock, not mine), and only necessary force be used.
SHOCKING! (My capslock, not Rita's.) Here Dumbledore is agreeing with a mass murderer and a potential Muggle-oppressor. Actually, what I see is a theoretical intellectual discussion that is entirely something a teenager would do. Sure, it's beyond arrogant, but aren't teenagers like that? Isn't Harry like that when he raises his MFI to Scrimgeour and demands Stan Shunpike be released because I say so?
So, Rita goes on to say that this hasty note makes a lie out of all Dumbledore's 100+ years of working for Muggle rights and so forth. Because what you write in a love letter at eighteen defines who you are for the rest of your life.
Then she teases us about the next bit—the story of Ariana's death. God, I couldn't care less. Sorry, I know that makes me a bad person, but all I really know about Ariana right now is that she looks like a piece of dough and that there was some reason for not letting her socialize with anyone outside the family. This could be for any number of reasons, but the most obvious one to me is that she was either mentally challenged or insane. That the Dumbledores shut her inside the house is wrong, of course, but it's what people did back then.
When I was young, there was a family on our block who had adopted a severely retarded boy with epilepsy. They loved him, but they had to keep him restrained. I babysat for them once or twice (and I was terrified the whole time that he'd go into a seizure). They had a gate across the kitchen so that he stayed in mainly one area. Partially because, although he was eight or nine at the time, he couldn't be toilet trained. Partially because he was basically at an infant's level of dealing with dangerous objects—which means he might try to eat them or poke his eyes out—but with an eight-year-old's speed and reach.
What else were they supposed to do? I'm sure they socialized him as much as they could. They had two daughters who cared for and loved him, so he wasn't alone. They adopted him knowing what they were getting into, and knowing that eventually they wouldn't be able to handle him and he would have to be institutionalized.
So, maybe this is why this whole "scandal" about Ariana is such a non-issue to me. I find that family heroic. And they were doing essentially what Rita accuses the Dumbledores of doing (minus the secrecy, I suppose). At the time these events occurred, the "scandal" would have been that a family had any members who were different, whether squib or mentally challenged. Rita's making the scandal into the way the Dumbledores coped with it, which is extremely judgmental—unless Ariana were being abused, which is only the case if keeping her away from other people is abusive. Which really depends on what was going on with Ariana developmentally. Which we don't know.
As I'm writing this, I'm wondering if we're supposed to be drawing a parallel with Merope. She was kept isolated and, of course, it wasn't doing her any good. On the other hand, once she did socialize, the results were disasterous.
It would be more obvious to draw the parallel with Harry. He was kept isolated, but he was also verbally and physically bullied. In Harry's case, it was because he was "different," although I can see how the Dursleys would have the same fear about Harry causing accidental damage that my neighbors feared from their son.
But all of this is sad, not at all juicy or fun gossip. Which is why nobody would ever want to buy Skeeter's book.
So, she moves on the next scandal. Ariana suddenly died and Grindelwald ran home to his great-aunt, who arranged for a portkey for him to leave the country. At the funeral, Aberforth blamed Dumbledore for her death and broke his nose.
Rita finds this story very intriguing and says it raises many questions. Why did Aberforth blame Albus? Why did Grindelwald flee the country? Why did Dumbledore wait so long to duel Grindelwald? Did he fear exposure as Grindelwald's friend? Finally, how did Ariana die?
See… a journalist wouldn't just raise these questions. She'd dig into records and inquests and find out the facts. Because nobody reads a book like this for questions. They read it because they have questions. They'd read it for answers.
So, Harry stops reading here—just in case Skeeter actually did answer some of these questions. Can't have that, now. And Hermione makes it all worse by explaining that "The Greater Good" was Grindelwald's famous slogan in his genocidal campaign.
I guess that makes it "The Final Solution"?
Hermione also lets us know that Grindelwald built a prison called Nurmengard, and that he's there now, after having been defeated by Dumbledore. Which we need to know for later, when Voldemort visits Grindelwald there.
Hermione tries to excuse the letter by saying that Dumbledore was young—which Harry counters by pointing out that he was the same age they are, and that they are good, and that he was evil.
If I were Hermione, I would have tried the argument that intellectual discussion is not action, and that people try out all sorts of ideas when they are young. But Harry isn't really a man of intellectual curiosity, so it probably wouldn't have flown anyway.
They continue to fight about it, and Hermione finally points out that Harry is really angry, not because Dumbledore once held anti-Muggle views, but because Dumbledore never told him about it.
And Harry admits it in true dramatic conflict fashion: Dumbledore asked Harry to risk his life over and over again, without telling him everything. Because Dumbledore never trusted him enough to do it. That's the crux of all Harry's angst—that's what he's spent months in the wilderness to find out.
Dumbledore never trusted Harry.
Which makes Harry an insect, trapped beneath a pure, colorless, and vast empty sky.
"He loved you," Hermione insists.
Nope, Harry replies. He didn't love me. He loved Hitler.
Hehe. As cries to an unfeeling and indifferent God go, this one takes the cake. God loved Hitler and he didn't love me!
This is all going to help later on when Harry will be able to empathize with Snape's whining. Only instead of Hitler, it's Harry. You love Jesus and you don't love me!
Her dramatic function over, Harry dismisses Hermione and sends her back into the tent. Harry sits down to keep watch, hating himself for wanting God to love him.
By the way, it's Christmas Day. Can you get any more emo than that?
Fan Service:
Nothing in this chapter serves the fen.
Fan Slappage:
Remember how we all thought that Harry was going to obsess about Snape, leading to a big dramatic scene? Yeah, we were dopes.
DVD Extras:
Title card: Some weeks earlier…
INT. NIGHT – SHRIEKING SHACK
Snape and Lupin are in the ruined, boarded-up sitting room, standing over a table. Snape is carrying a black bag.
SNAPE
You didn't tell anyone where you were going?
LUPIN
Tonks thinks I'm getting her ice cream. What was so urgent?
Snape opens the bag and removes a small golden cup. He places it on the table.
SNAPE
This. The secret to the Dark Lord's survival.
Lupin raises one eyebrow, then slowly passes his wand over the cup. He starts back violently.
LUPIN
A Horcrux? I've read about them, but I've never—where did you get it?
SNAPE
From Bellatrix Lestrange's vault. Don't worry. It won't be missed. I made a replica.
LUPIN
So… if we can destroy this…
SNAPE
I don't think it's the only one.
LUPIN
(in horror)
What?
SNAPE
It's just a suspicion. But he never does anything once if he can do it twice. Or more.
LUPIN
Merlin help us.
SNAPE
But, if this one is destroyed, it's a step forward.
LUPIN
So you called me here to do that?
SNAPE
You have the expertise. I thought you might want to be involved. And… it's best if I don't. It's best if I think about it as little as possible.
LUPIN
(rolling up his sleeves)
Right.
Lupin waves his wand back for a killer of a destruction spell and… gets hit smack in the face with a spray of yellow liquid from the cup.
He coughs and sputters, disgust evident on his face.
LUPIN (cont'd)
Oh my God! Is that urine?
He glances up quickly enough to catch the smirk on Snape's face.
SNAPE
Oh yes. It does that. Forgot to tell you.
He turns to go.
SNAPE (cont'd)
Good luck!
Snape sweeps away. Lupin shakes his head with resignation, then turns his attention back to the cup.
It squirts him in the face again.
FADE OUT
The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore
You know what I could go for in the story right about now? Another chapter of obsessing about Albus Dumbedore. I don't think we've had nearly enough of that yet. Sigh.
So, the sun is coming up but it 's not enlightenment this time. This time it's just a sun. Harry knows he ought to be grateful to be alive, but the vastness, I'm sorry, the pure, colorless vastness of the sky prompts him an existential crisis.
See, Harry's problem is that he can't trust Dumbledore. Why? Well, because Harry almost gotten eaten by a giant snake and his wand is broken into two pieces that even Super Hermione can't fix.
Why is it that Harry is always pissed off at exactly the wrong thing? Yes, I know I blamed Dumbledore last week for the ridiculous mazes he makes everybody run through—but I don't think Harry really should be. He and Hermione made that quest up out of whole cloth. And they proceeded with it in the face of overwhelming evidence that it was A Very Bad Idea.
So, Harry stands beneath the pure,colorless, vast and indifferent sky and becomes emo over all the crappy things that have happened to him. Losing blood more times than he can count. (To be fair, we have no reason to think that Harry can count above three.)
He lost all the bones in his arm once. Okay, but was that really Dumbledore's fault, Harry?
He has scars and trauma, but he never felt this weak before—not until he lost his wand. What is it with men and wands? It's not all that you are, men!
Actually, I think the emotional need for wands is an interesting thing. Lucius is going through the same thing, I imagine. Although why Lucius doesn't force (or bribe) Ollivander to make him a new wand, I'll never know. Maybe he did and we just never see it.
Anyway, Harry is so attuned to Hermione that he can hear her scolding before she even does it. The wand is only as good as the wizard. But Harry realizes that his twin core with Voldemort had protected him and now he's lost that—even if he does get another wand.
Yo, Harry. All those Voldie visions. You think he might be looking for a wand? In order to get past the protection of the twin cores? By the way, doesn't that protection only kick in if the spells intersect? Oh, wait. I forgot. Harry's wand was so special that it didn't even need the twin wand to start protecting him. It shot back at Voldemort when he was carrying a different wand.
Wacky wands. You never know what they'll do.
I'm surprised this doesn't come into play more in the series. We see Ron's wand backfiring in CoS, and we suffered five years of Neville being incompetent because he had to carry his father's wand (which I thought was pure metaphor for Augusta's unreasonable expectations). But you'd think there would be more awkwardness about casting if the wands were so important. They'd be less like having the right violin and more like training an Australian cattle dog.
Hehe. Harry notes that his mokeskin pouch is too full of broken and useless objects to hold any more. I'll bet that's supposed to be symbolic of something. That Harry prizes sentiment above practicality is the most obvious interpretation. For sheer sentiment he holds onto that Marauder's Map, instead of giving it to someone who could use it. Like Ginny.
Well, it's not like it was her birthday.
Thinking of the useless things he's carrying reminds Harry of the Snitch Dumbledore left him, which reminds him of how angry he is at Dumbledore. Harry then goes on to make the point I made last week about how Dumbleodre's absurdly mysterious clues and hints left him and Hermione groping in the dark. So, once again, JKR's characters are commenting on the stupidity of this whole quest.
But, of course, this is okay here because Harry's at his emotional nadir in this chapter. If you don't trust Dumbledore, what are you left with? Nothing. But how can you trust him when he refuses to talk in anything but riddles?
Oooo. It's like Dumbledore is God, right? And Harry is the Everyman having a spiritual crisis when Things Don't Go His Way.
Harry lists all the things he doesn't have. The sword. A wand. A clue. Meanwhile, Voldemort has a picture of the thief, which is everything. I guess. I'm not sure how it helps Voldemort, unless he starts standing on a street corner and showing it to random wizards. It's not like that photograph had a caption on it. He knew what the guy looked like before.
And it's not like he can ask Bathilda Bagshot who he is.
At this point, Hermione arrives to drive the final nail in Harry's coffin. She brings with her two cups of tea and "something bulky" under her arm. Two things: 1) How did Hermione make tea with no wand? I assume that stove in the tent has to be lit with something. 2) Harry is now so bibliophobic that he can't even recognize a book when it's carried by the person in the series most likely to have a book on her person.
Hermione, having had her sacrificial offering of tea accepted by Harry, begs the favor of talking to him. Geez. Now she's Dudley. I'm surprised she didn't leave it at his feet and creep back silently into the tent. But then, that wouldn't really advance the story, would it?
Harry grants her the favor of talking to him because he doesn't want to hurt her feelings. We're way beyond that, Harry. Look at the tea.
Hermione now makes the offering of the book: The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore. When he asks how she miraculously acquired this answer to their questions, she tells him she took it from Bathilda's sitting room. In other words, she stole it.
Harry doesn't care about that, of course. It wasn't Sirius's stuff, so it doesn't matter if someone steals it. All he feels is savage pleasure that he'll be able to find out all the stuff Dumbledore never bothered to tell him—whether Dumbledore wanted him to know it or not.
You know, this would probably play better dramatically if it wasn't a book by Rita Skeeter. We've read too many excerpts from Rita Skeeter's writings in the series to take anything she says seriously. Or, if maybe JKR can portrayed Rita Skeeter in a more honorable fashion. I don't mind journalists being shown as jackals, as long as their virtues--research and essential honesty—are respected. But that scene with Harry where her quill starts making stuff up for dramatic purpose shows her to be fundamentally dishonest. So, when Harry pounces her on book as a source of information about Dumbeldore, he just seems like an idiot.
"You're still really angry at me, aren't you?" asks Hermione with tears leaking out of her eyes. Okay, this is why I find Hermione annoying when she cries. Leaking. Two paragraphs later, she has a <.i>watery smile. Could there possibly be a more unattractive way of describing her? Yuck.
Harry opens the book (which, oddly, Hermione had not, even though she was sitting vigil with Harry all night) and sees the photograph of Dumbledore and the merry, wild, laughing thief, who is…. Dun, dun, DUNNNNN!... Gellert Grindelwald.
Grindelwald. You know. The guy from the chocolate frog card. The guy who Dumbledore defeated back in 1945. HITLER!
This discovery is so momentous that it prompts Harry into doing the unthinkable: reading. He finds a chapter entitled "The Greater Good" and we get another excerpt of Skeeter's writing. Six pages of it. Six.
Can I say something about these excerpts? I just don't buy them. I mean, I'll bet that JKR had a ball writing them. She probably laughed herself silly, because it's really fun to parody bad writing. But I just don't buy that Skeeter could actually write like this and sell books. Even as dishy bio, this bites. Mainly because it doesn't give any actual information. It's all tease. Certainly Dumbledore returned to Godric's Hollow at once, supposedly to "care" for his younger brother and sister . But how much care did he actually give them? I mean… that's not even an interesting question. Are her readers supposed to breathlessly read on to discover if he cut the crusts off their peanut butter and jelly sandwiches or not?
Then she doesn't go on to answer it, but to quote someone about how Aberforth was "wild" and chucked goat dung at people. Because anything with goats or dung is funny, so "goat dung" is twice as funny.
This information comes from Enid Smeek, whose family lived in Godric's Hollow. So, here's another person who seems older than the ancient Dumbledore.
What was Dumbledore doing instead of comforting his younger brother? Skeeter tells us that he was ensuring the continued imprisonment of Ariana. He can't do both at the same time? (I picture Albus with one arm around a weeping Abeforth, while holding the celllar door firmly shut with the other.)
Honestly, this is the dullest scandal I ever heard about.
So, then Rita writes about interviewing Bathilda Bagshot. Well, first she makes sure to mention how unreliable a source Bathilda is calling her "batty". Then Rita states that she used "tried-and-tested" reporting techniques (which just makes them sound unethical and unreliable) to get information from Bathilda.
Then she says that Bathilda confirmed that Ariana was frail and delicate, while simultaneously implying that this information is suspect. Then she teases us with the "full story" to come in the next few paragraphs.
So, at this point, she's mainly teased us with innuendo and no real information—and also put us on notice that her techniques at getting information are suspect. And that her sources are senile.
This doesn't give me any confidence that I'm going to find out any truth about Dumbledore. Even if I cared. Which I don't.
Hehe. So first big shoe to drop is that Gellert Grindelwald was visiting his great-aunt Bathilda (which would make her roughly 200 years old by the time of her death). Rita acknowledges that since Grindelwald's famous reign of terror didn't extend to Britain, people might not be aware of the details of his rise to power.
She then proceeds to tell us practically nothing about those details. The closest she comes is that he was thrown out of school because of his "twisted experiments." See, a good gossip writer would have told us what those experiments were. That's why you read a dishy bio. I don't want to know that Diana "played around" on Charles. I want to know who she was schtupping and that he called her "Squidgy" when he called her late at night.
That's what sells books.
Okay. Skeeter does give us the wizard's equivalent of a late-night cell phone call with Dumbledore's letter to Grindelwald. In this, he agrees with GG about the right of wizard dominance over Muggles, but insists that with great power comes great responsibility. He urges that world domination be done for THE GREATER GOOD (his capslock, not mine), and only necessary force be used.
SHOCKING! (My capslock, not Rita's.) Here Dumbledore is agreeing with a mass murderer and a potential Muggle-oppressor. Actually, what I see is a theoretical intellectual discussion that is entirely something a teenager would do. Sure, it's beyond arrogant, but aren't teenagers like that? Isn't Harry like that when he raises his MFI to Scrimgeour and demands Stan Shunpike be released because I say so?
So, Rita goes on to say that this hasty note makes a lie out of all Dumbledore's 100+ years of working for Muggle rights and so forth. Because what you write in a love letter at eighteen defines who you are for the rest of your life.
Then she teases us about the next bit—the story of Ariana's death. God, I couldn't care less. Sorry, I know that makes me a bad person, but all I really know about Ariana right now is that she looks like a piece of dough and that there was some reason for not letting her socialize with anyone outside the family. This could be for any number of reasons, but the most obvious one to me is that she was either mentally challenged or insane. That the Dumbledores shut her inside the house is wrong, of course, but it's what people did back then.
When I was young, there was a family on our block who had adopted a severely retarded boy with epilepsy. They loved him, but they had to keep him restrained. I babysat for them once or twice (and I was terrified the whole time that he'd go into a seizure). They had a gate across the kitchen so that he stayed in mainly one area. Partially because, although he was eight or nine at the time, he couldn't be toilet trained. Partially because he was basically at an infant's level of dealing with dangerous objects—which means he might try to eat them or poke his eyes out—but with an eight-year-old's speed and reach.
What else were they supposed to do? I'm sure they socialized him as much as they could. They had two daughters who cared for and loved him, so he wasn't alone. They adopted him knowing what they were getting into, and knowing that eventually they wouldn't be able to handle him and he would have to be institutionalized.
So, maybe this is why this whole "scandal" about Ariana is such a non-issue to me. I find that family heroic. And they were doing essentially what Rita accuses the Dumbledores of doing (minus the secrecy, I suppose). At the time these events occurred, the "scandal" would have been that a family had any members who were different, whether squib or mentally challenged. Rita's making the scandal into the way the Dumbledores coped with it, which is extremely judgmental—unless Ariana were being abused, which is only the case if keeping her away from other people is abusive. Which really depends on what was going on with Ariana developmentally. Which we don't know.
As I'm writing this, I'm wondering if we're supposed to be drawing a parallel with Merope. She was kept isolated and, of course, it wasn't doing her any good. On the other hand, once she did socialize, the results were disasterous.
It would be more obvious to draw the parallel with Harry. He was kept isolated, but he was also verbally and physically bullied. In Harry's case, it was because he was "different," although I can see how the Dursleys would have the same fear about Harry causing accidental damage that my neighbors feared from their son.
But all of this is sad, not at all juicy or fun gossip. Which is why nobody would ever want to buy Skeeter's book.
So, she moves on the next scandal. Ariana suddenly died and Grindelwald ran home to his great-aunt, who arranged for a portkey for him to leave the country. At the funeral, Aberforth blamed Dumbledore for her death and broke his nose.
Rita finds this story very intriguing and says it raises many questions. Why did Aberforth blame Albus? Why did Grindelwald flee the country? Why did Dumbledore wait so long to duel Grindelwald? Did he fear exposure as Grindelwald's friend? Finally, how did Ariana die?
See… a journalist wouldn't just raise these questions. She'd dig into records and inquests and find out the facts. Because nobody reads a book like this for questions. They read it because they have questions. They'd read it for answers.
So, Harry stops reading here—just in case Skeeter actually did answer some of these questions. Can't have that, now. And Hermione makes it all worse by explaining that "The Greater Good" was Grindelwald's famous slogan in his genocidal campaign.
I guess that makes it "The Final Solution"?
Hermione also lets us know that Grindelwald built a prison called Nurmengard, and that he's there now, after having been defeated by Dumbledore. Which we need to know for later, when Voldemort visits Grindelwald there.
Hermione tries to excuse the letter by saying that Dumbledore was young—which Harry counters by pointing out that he was the same age they are, and that they are good, and that he was evil.
If I were Hermione, I would have tried the argument that intellectual discussion is not action, and that people try out all sorts of ideas when they are young. But Harry isn't really a man of intellectual curiosity, so it probably wouldn't have flown anyway.
They continue to fight about it, and Hermione finally points out that Harry is really angry, not because Dumbledore once held anti-Muggle views, but because Dumbledore never told him about it.
And Harry admits it in true dramatic conflict fashion: Dumbledore asked Harry to risk his life over and over again, without telling him everything. Because Dumbledore never trusted him enough to do it. That's the crux of all Harry's angst—that's what he's spent months in the wilderness to find out.
Dumbledore never trusted Harry.
Which makes Harry an insect, trapped beneath a pure, colorless, and vast empty sky.
"He loved you," Hermione insists.
Nope, Harry replies. He didn't love me. He loved Hitler.
Hehe. As cries to an unfeeling and indifferent God go, this one takes the cake. God loved Hitler and he didn't love me!
This is all going to help later on when Harry will be able to empathize with Snape's whining. Only instead of Hitler, it's Harry. You love Jesus and you don't love me!
Her dramatic function over, Harry dismisses Hermione and sends her back into the tent. Harry sits down to keep watch, hating himself for wanting God to love him.
By the way, it's Christmas Day. Can you get any more emo than that?
Fan Service:
Nothing in this chapter serves the fen.
Fan Slappage:
Remember how we all thought that Harry was going to obsess about Snape, leading to a big dramatic scene? Yeah, we were dopes.
DVD Extras:
Title card: Some weeks earlier…
INT. NIGHT – SHRIEKING SHACK
Snape and Lupin are in the ruined, boarded-up sitting room, standing over a table. Snape is carrying a black bag.
SNAPE
You didn't tell anyone where you were going?
LUPIN
Tonks thinks I'm getting her ice cream. What was so urgent?
Snape opens the bag and removes a small golden cup. He places it on the table.
SNAPE
This. The secret to the Dark Lord's survival.
Lupin raises one eyebrow, then slowly passes his wand over the cup. He starts back violently.
LUPIN
A Horcrux? I've read about them, but I've never—where did you get it?
SNAPE
From Bellatrix Lestrange's vault. Don't worry. It won't be missed. I made a replica.
LUPIN
So… if we can destroy this…
SNAPE
I don't think it's the only one.
LUPIN
(in horror)
What?
SNAPE
It's just a suspicion. But he never does anything once if he can do it twice. Or more.
LUPIN
Merlin help us.
SNAPE
But, if this one is destroyed, it's a step forward.
LUPIN
So you called me here to do that?
SNAPE
You have the expertise. I thought you might want to be involved. And… it's best if I don't. It's best if I think about it as little as possible.
LUPIN
(rolling up his sleeves)
Right.
Lupin waves his wand back for a killer of a destruction spell and… gets hit smack in the face with a spray of yellow liquid from the cup.
He coughs and sputters, disgust evident on his face.
LUPIN (cont'd)
Oh my God! Is that urine?
He glances up quickly enough to catch the smirk on Snape's face.
SNAPE
Oh yes. It does that. Forgot to tell you.
He turns to go.
SNAPE (cont'd)
Good luck!
Snape sweeps away. Lupin shakes his head with resignation, then turns his attention back to the cup.
It squirts him in the face again.
FADE OUT
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