Chamber of Secrets - Chapter 1
Nov. 13th, 2009 09:07 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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deathtocapslockMenial labour, inventive adjectives for 'villains,' and Dudley's poetry prowess...
* Our Sainted Hero has a strange conception of things from the start. To OSH, the ‘worst birthday’ imaginable does not involve dying in a ditch, getting mysteriously shipped to Guantánamo Bay, or listening to the dulcet tones of the Barney OST on a loop, but having to spend the evening in his room, instead of downstairs, with a group of people whose company he loathes. What a strange little specimen.
* All right, I am not being fair; do not expect me to be. If we take the title ‘The Worst Birthday’ to infer that it is the worst in his personal memory, it does beg the question – what were his pre-canon birthdays like? Did the Dursleys put on little party hats and shower him with kisses and Cream Soda?
* Presumably, the interchange is supposed to elicit our sympathy for Hedwig (duly elicited) and our distaste for the Dursleys. In my case, it does not. VD, for once, has a perfectly valid reason for keeping the owl encaged; knowing Harry, he would use it for tiresome hijinx of sorts were it freed. VD is looking out for his and his family’s sanity by cutting off Potter’s lines of communication.
* How horrid these base Muggles are! They keep noble animals like owls – in cages! Presumably the golden standard for animal welfare is set by the illustrious members of the Wizarding World, who turn innocent creatures into pepper-pots and tuffets for kicks and giggles, not to mention, supposed educational attainment. Heed their example and bow to your superiors, ye magickless hoardes!
* >> ‘Do I look stupid?’, snarled Uncle Vernon, a bit of fried egg dangling from his bushy moustache.’<<
In JK Rowling’s world, a valid point is negated by physical comedy and faux pas. If that doesn’t work, call the character in question fat. That’s always a wonderful stand-by that no one finds abhorrent. Speaking of which…
* Dudley is so fat that… he can’t fit on a chair. A sure-fire sign that he is abhorrent and not to be trusted. After all, his rotundness cannot be attributed to indulgent parents passing down an unhealthy diet, can it? Despicable Dudley. There is no reason these days for anyone to be fat unless they are evil; just like JKR, all and sundry can afford personal trainers and personally-tailored diets…
* Pre-CAPSLOCK Harry takes a ludicrous onslaught from VD in his stride. Ah, the good old days where he was slightly, marginally, a teensy bit less utterly annoying.
* He misses everything and everyone except from Snape, who did such despicable things as save his life. Contemptible rogue!
* Harry panics that his one discernible skill (the supremely useful ability to go up into the air on a bit of wood and chase something around, a life skill that every trade and scholarship requires) will vanish out of lack of practice. Don’t worry, Harry. You got good at Quidditch through no effort or determination of your own – such an automatic skill endowed to you will not disappear.
* Daddy and Baby Bear were way too fat; Mommy Bear was skeletal and bony; but Harry Bear was just right.
* I love Vernon’s comic timing as he disappoints any lingering hopes that Harry has of celebrating his birthday. Their hyper-structured overture to win over the hearts of some glorified builders is both endearing and hysterical too.
PS. Please, fanfic writers of the world. I would love to see DD’s ‘my hero’ report about Mr. Mason. I am hoping that the boy shows off his sensitive/misunderstood artist side by composing a lush villanelle…
* Note that the Ministry can automatically detect and punish the use of underage magic, even if it be used for necessary purposes. I wonder how much tax money goes into such an endeavour, in order to stop the little tykes from turning tricks? Also, shouldn’t such a mondo-freaky Orwellian surveillance magic system be better used, for instance, on identifying, locating, and castigating those using unforgivable spells? It would certainly make the WW a safer, if rather duller, place.
* Poor little scoundrel. Harry Pur Cœur is so depressed at not hearing wind of either of his many (two) chums that even tormenting one of his remaining blood relatives has lost its winsomeness. O My.
* Harry sat up late at night, looking out upon the wide, vast world, ripe with opportunities. He did not look down at the bleak, uniform lines of Surrey houses but up, up toward the night sky. The commuter smog tried to extinguish the heavens, but Harry could still see through it to the stars. Maybe he was going somewhat insane, but by joining the stars together, he could make out several figures. First he saw Dumbledore, who was eating a lemon sherbet and speculating which mediocre boy-child to throw to the wolves next. Then, the long, dainty shaft of a Quidditch broom. And then… it couldn’t be…
He rubbed his eyes, or at least attempted to. In actuality, he rubbed his glasses, having forgotten that they adorned his cherubic face. He took them off, consternated, rubbed his tired green NO, BLUE eyes and put them on again. And there he was. The naked form of Draco Malfoy, up there amongst Sirius and Sothis. It was the most beautiful celestial display. Harry would almost be glad of a sight of his ‘archenemy’ in the flesh… and abrupt finish.
* Waddling, fat bottom, fat face. Yes, JKR, we get the picture, and might I add, what a masterstroke of characterisation. He’s a little on the fleshy side. Must every action that he does be quantified by his weight? And why do your ‘plump’ characters never have their assuredly graceful movements and actions described thusly? I guess overweight characters, even if they have given birth to a volleyball team full of children, only waddle, coggle, wallow, totter, etc, if they are drunk and/or Pure Evil.
* Our Sainted Hero wishes that people at Hogwarts could see him there and then – broken, aching, dirty, sweating. Anyone in particular, Potter?
* Harry went up to his room to find someone on his bed. Imagine his disappointment to find that it was not Draco, nor second-stringer Ron, but the most annoying canon character this side of Grawp..
* All right, I am not being fair; do not expect me to be. If we take the title ‘The Worst Birthday’ to infer that it is the worst in his personal memory, it does beg the question – what were his pre-canon birthdays like? Did the Dursleys put on little party hats and shower him with kisses and Cream Soda?
* Presumably, the interchange is supposed to elicit our sympathy for Hedwig (duly elicited) and our distaste for the Dursleys. In my case, it does not. VD, for once, has a perfectly valid reason for keeping the owl encaged; knowing Harry, he would use it for tiresome hijinx of sorts were it freed. VD is looking out for his and his family’s sanity by cutting off Potter’s lines of communication.
* How horrid these base Muggles are! They keep noble animals like owls – in cages! Presumably the golden standard for animal welfare is set by the illustrious members of the Wizarding World, who turn innocent creatures into pepper-pots and tuffets for kicks and giggles, not to mention, supposed educational attainment. Heed their example and bow to your superiors, ye magickless hoardes!
* >> ‘Do I look stupid?’, snarled Uncle Vernon, a bit of fried egg dangling from his bushy moustache.’<<
In JK Rowling’s world, a valid point is negated by physical comedy and faux pas. If that doesn’t work, call the character in question fat. That’s always a wonderful stand-by that no one finds abhorrent. Speaking of which…
* Dudley is so fat that… he can’t fit on a chair. A sure-fire sign that he is abhorrent and not to be trusted. After all, his rotundness cannot be attributed to indulgent parents passing down an unhealthy diet, can it? Despicable Dudley. There is no reason these days for anyone to be fat unless they are evil; just like JKR, all and sundry can afford personal trainers and personally-tailored diets…
* Pre-CAPSLOCK Harry takes a ludicrous onslaught from VD in his stride. Ah, the good old days where he was slightly, marginally, a teensy bit less utterly annoying.
* He misses everything and everyone except from Snape, who did such despicable things as save his life. Contemptible rogue!
* Harry panics that his one discernible skill (the supremely useful ability to go up into the air on a bit of wood and chase something around, a life skill that every trade and scholarship requires) will vanish out of lack of practice. Don’t worry, Harry. You got good at Quidditch through no effort or determination of your own – such an automatic skill endowed to you will not disappear.
* Daddy and Baby Bear were way too fat; Mommy Bear was skeletal and bony; but Harry Bear was just right.
* I love Vernon’s comic timing as he disappoints any lingering hopes that Harry has of celebrating his birthday. Their hyper-structured overture to win over the hearts of some glorified builders is both endearing and hysterical too.
PS. Please, fanfic writers of the world. I would love to see DD’s ‘my hero’ report about Mr. Mason. I am hoping that the boy shows off his sensitive/misunderstood artist side by composing a lush villanelle…
* Note that the Ministry can automatically detect and punish the use of underage magic, even if it be used for necessary purposes. I wonder how much tax money goes into such an endeavour, in order to stop the little tykes from turning tricks? Also, shouldn’t such a mondo-freaky Orwellian surveillance magic system be better used, for instance, on identifying, locating, and castigating those using unforgivable spells? It would certainly make the WW a safer, if rather duller, place.
* Poor little scoundrel. Harry Pur Cœur is so depressed at not hearing wind of either of his many (two) chums that even tormenting one of his remaining blood relatives has lost its winsomeness. O My.
* Harry sat up late at night, looking out upon the wide, vast world, ripe with opportunities. He did not look down at the bleak, uniform lines of Surrey houses but up, up toward the night sky. The commuter smog tried to extinguish the heavens, but Harry could still see through it to the stars. Maybe he was going somewhat insane, but by joining the stars together, he could make out several figures. First he saw Dumbledore, who was eating a lemon sherbet and speculating which mediocre boy-child to throw to the wolves next. Then, the long, dainty shaft of a Quidditch broom. And then… it couldn’t be…
He rubbed his eyes, or at least attempted to. In actuality, he rubbed his glasses, having forgotten that they adorned his cherubic face. He took them off, consternated, rubbed his tired green NO, BLUE eyes and put them on again. And there he was. The naked form of Draco Malfoy, up there amongst Sirius and Sothis. It was the most beautiful celestial display. Harry would almost be glad of a sight of his ‘archenemy’ in the flesh… and abrupt finish.
* Waddling, fat bottom, fat face. Yes, JKR, we get the picture, and might I add, what a masterstroke of characterisation. He’s a little on the fleshy side. Must every action that he does be quantified by his weight? And why do your ‘plump’ characters never have their assuredly graceful movements and actions described thusly? I guess overweight characters, even if they have given birth to a volleyball team full of children, only waddle, coggle, wallow, totter, etc, if they are drunk and/or Pure Evil.
* Our Sainted Hero wishes that people at Hogwarts could see him there and then – broken, aching, dirty, sweating. Anyone in particular, Potter?
* Harry went up to his room to find someone on his bed. Imagine his disappointment to find that it was not Draco, nor second-stringer Ron, but the most annoying canon character this side of Grawp..
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