Something For The Potter-Philes

I'm fully aware that the timeliness of this entry is entirely moot. The whole Harry Potter series is finished, and the details of this little nutmeg of a theory are well past the point of being relevant. Still. Now's as good a time as any left.

Let's rewind a few books to Harry Potter & The Goblet of Fire. The book begins with an unflattering view on Voldemort. The Dark Lord has been reduced to a sickly, malnourished-looking infant from hell. He needs constant attention, and is for all intents and purposes helpless.

He goes on to return to power. They spend no small amount of time covering the exact means of how he pulls this off. It's a HP book, of course the villain gloats and reviews (in succint detail) his schemes.

Where I've been sketchy, since Goblet of Fire was first published, was how exactly Voldemort went from intangible half-ghost to wretched baby creature in the first place. He floats off in anger and defeat at the end of book one. His diary-bound doppelganger arrives and vanishes in book two, and Voldybritches makes no appearances whatsoever in book three. He's merely the Dread Lord who's about to rendezvous with his servant (Wormtail).

So the riddle (ha ha) is this: how does an incorporeal shade of a being get himself a body? Even a wretched one?

I think I figured it out.

Book Four introduces us to the aide of the Dark Lord, namely Barty Crouch, Junior. It also presents the debut of a snake. Nagini. This behemoth of a python is later revealed to be a Horcrux, an item/living thing infused with a fraction of a wizard's soul to ensure their immortality. And... Nagini is female.

I think Nagini gave birth to the sickly, infantile Voldemort.

In the first book, Voldy/Quirrel regales our hero with how he spent his days in the Albanian woods, capable of little more than inhabiting the minds of animals. It establishes that he can occupy space in their body.

Nagini was capable of laying eggs, being of the feminine persuasion. Already a repository of a piece of Tom Riddle's soul, how far-fetched is it to surmise that she bore him long enough to place him in an egg? Wormtail had various duties as Voldy's nursemaid, including milking Nagini. Who but the offspring of a reptile could benefit from snake milk?

Later on, after he's regained his full stature, Voldemort is hairless, pale, certainly cold-blooded and his nose is nothing more than a pair of flat slits. How much of a stretch is it to describe him as a reptile man? The son of a snake?

Anyway. Musings that have been bubbling on the back burner for a while. Worth typing down, at any rate.

Your thoughts?

Something Bubbling Around In The Back Of My Brain

I've been doing some thinking about the new Harry Potter book that's to come out. I've been thinking about Horcruxes.

Let's put aside for the minute the theory that Harry himself is actually the last one. (Which is a pretty darned good theory in itself.) The horcrux-is-an-object rules seem to be flexible-- Nagini the snake's even a living creature.

Bad old Lord Voldybritches has established that he has a fondness for trophies; Slytherin's Locket and the rest. He was also ca-razy about his years at Hogwarts. Despite his loathing of everything Dumbledore stood for, he loved the school.

The school.

Hogwarts, the actual building, has proven in every single book to have a variety of surprises. Secret rooms, booby traps galore, moving staircases, more secret rooms, and the place is practically a fortress.

Who's to say the entire freakin' building couldn't be the last Horcrux?

It's unlikely but possible that Tom Riddle committed more murders on campus than just Moaning Myrtle. He'd have to be on-site to do it. Right?

All the books' primary action has taken place at the school. This makes sense, as the main characters are kids; but since the third book, each climax has taken place further and further away. Nevertheless, once the devastating horror settles down, back to Hogwarts they go. The school is home. (Excluding summers.) Harry says he may not bother to return to the school for his last year... I don't think he'll really have a choice in the matter.

The minute I thought of that, I was reminded of a great scene from Stranger Than Fiction. Harold Crick, determined to prove he's in control, stays home from work and does absolutely nothing. Before the day is out, his apartment is partially destroyed. He's part of something bigger than himself. Harry may fight it with all his might but I'm willing to bet the 'mission' he's appointed himself won't rear its ugly head more often than the odd trip to Hogsmeade. SNAPS.

Anyway. My two cents.

Harry Potter and the Inappropriate Horseplay

The times, they are a-changin'. Seeking to break free of his most famous persona, Daniel Radcliffe is shedding the lightning scar, the glasses... and everything else.

Equus, by Peter Shaffer, tells the tale of a disturbed young man who literally worships horses. He is taken into psychiatric custody after blinding an entire stable's worth.

The play is perhaps best known for an extended nude scene, which in this case includes Radcliffe. Reaction from parents of Potter fans has been strong to say the least.

"We as parents feel Daniel should not appear nude. Our nine-year-old son looks up to him as a role model."

Question: What's Radcliffe doing wrong, exactly? He's an adult. He doesn't want to be typecast by the only role he's known for the world over. The play is extremely inappropriate for young audiences, so the kiddies likely won't be going. Not if their parents have anything to say about it. If children were able to see the play, are parents afraid their children will go out assaulting livestock while in the nude?

They seemed to have little problem with Radcliffe casting magic spells, running away from home, ignoring and lying to authority figures, breaking school rules, playing with swords and oh yes, killing teachers.

Concerned parents (likely Americans) have promised to boycott Radcliffe's future movies. To which I have to say: Yeah. Right. Parents wishing to stop their children from seeing Harry Potter movies would have an easier time preventing the sun from rising. It is a force of nature. As the sun will come up, so will children watch Harry Potter.

Just sayin'.

Novelists Plead To Rowling, Potter Auther Replies "Mind Your Own Sodding Business"

This week coming from the Semi-True Post: Novelists John Irving (The World According to Garp) and Stephen "Healthy Childhood" King held a news conference where they announced they had written to J. K. Rowling, imploring her not to kill Harry Potter in the final book of the series.

Rowling had this to say:

"Can you believe the cheek on those Yanks? Look, King. It's my premise, it's my billions, I'll do whatever the sodding hell I want to. The Potter brat will go prancing into his grave in a tutu if the mood strikes me. Don't push it, King. I can buy you a dozen times over." At which point, the novelist gave this reporter the stink-eye.

Satan, attributed by some as responsible for the outrageous success of the books, had the following comments: "What, Miss Used-to-live-on-foodstamps? Look, I'm keeping up my end of the bargain. As long as she keeps sending me the souls of her unsuspecting readership, we're all happy. ...Cigar?"

Harry Potter and the Scene In Which He Dies, Taking Voldemort With Him (& What The Hell, Hermione For Good Measure) is expected to be on shelves late next year.

Harry Potter & It's About Freakin' Time!!

Oh. My. God.

Anyone that's a fan, go here. Anyone that hates the books, go here. (It's the same link, ladies and gents.) I laughed my head off.

Accio Head!

Are You Now, Or Have You Ever Been A Death-Eater?

Just got finished reading Harry Potter & The Half-Blood Prince. It was very good, and rest assured that this blog entry will hold no spoilers, although I can’t make the same promise for future entries… but I’ll at least give you a week or two to be perfectly fair.

Nevertheless: I am not betraying any secrets of the book (or at least, this latest one) by voicing my complaint about the series up ‘til now. Okay, here we go: There has been a fair amount of trouble over the Death-Eaters, a fairly small band of Voldemort Supporters who do his dirty-work when they’re not rotting in Azkaban.

My problem is not with their devotion to the big jerk; nor is it with the in-fighting of the group, the jealous squabbles, or the like. My problem is with the rest of Wizarding World’s ineptitude at being able to locate them.

The Death-Eaters are supposed to have secret identities. Fine. Super-Villains do the same all the time. It prevents them from getting in trouble when they’re not up to nefarious no-good deeds. Those Super-Villains, however, are not *stupid* enough to tattoo their fore-arms with a calling card the size of a Business-Sized Envelope. The thing is huge, and a grotesque emblem of a skull eating a venomous snake.

No-one who is not a Death-Eater would dare sport the mark, nor have we seen *any* sign that the Death-Eaters can do anything to conceal it, short of wearing a long-sleeve shirt. Tattoos are supposed to be permanent, and I imagine that the sigil of the most evil wizard in the history of the fictional world would be doubly so.

Now, I imagine the witch-hunt (no pun intended) involved to track them down if they weren’t wearing the tattoos on their arm, but honestly. The following is provided courtesy of Hugh Grant playing both roles:

Inquisitor: “Er, um, pardon me, but would you mind telling me: Are you now, or have you ever been a, um, forgive the impertinence of course, a, ah… Death-Eater, as it were?”
Suspected DE: “Ahaha. Er, sorry?”
I: “A Death-Eater. A secret supporter of ‘You Know Who’.”
SDE: “I’m sorry. I-I don’t understand the, er, reference.”
I: “Of course. Perhaps ‘He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’ would ring a larger, um, bell.”
SDE: “Hmm… I’m afraid not, no. Don’t have the, er, foggiest to whom you are referring.”
I: “Erm, ah, well. The, ah, Darkest, Vilest, Most-Evil Wizard our community has ever known. Him.”
SDE: “Oh!”
I: “Yes.”
SDE: “I see.”
I: “Indeed.”
(A brief, uncomfortable silence.)
I: “Well?”
SDE: “Well what?”
I: “Are you?”
SDE: “Am I?”
I: “Are you a, um… Death-Eater, by chance?”
SDE: “Oh! No, no. No. Perish the thought. Wouldn’t dream of it.”
I: “I see. Well. In that case, would you mind terribly… rolling up your sleeves?”
SDE: “… I beg your pardon?”
I: “Yes. It’s just that we need to make doubly certain, you see. And we have to take into consideration the, uh, far-fetched near-microscopic of course, possibility that you may in fact be… uh, lying.”
SDE: “I fail to see what my sleeves would have to do in any way with my being the afore-mentioned Death-Eater. One way or the other. Ehr, yes.”
I: “Of course. Well. We have it on excellent authority that the, ah, afore-mentioned followers of ‘He-Who-So-On’ would um, not only be given to *lying* about their inclusion to said club, but also be in the habit of sporting the unmistakable, that is, tattoo on their person. Yes.”
SDE: “I see. Well. You’ll forgive me, of course, but I’m, uh, not terribly well at the moment. Seem to have come down with a slight cold, actually, as it were, and I’m afraid it would not be terribly prudent at this moment to, uh, roll up my sleeves, per se. You understand of course.”
I: “Ah, indeed. Accio Sleeves.”
(Ripping noise, as the fabric flies of SDE’s arms to reveal he does, in fact sport the tattoo.)
SDE: “Bugger.”

Problem solved! There you go! Bam! Bam! Simple!

And any of you reading the above, not understanding the ‘Accio Sleeves’ segment may as well have skipped the entire article. Should this be the case, rest assured that subsequent entries will likely have less to do with the J.K. Rowling books and more to do with my job, acting career, love life, and so on.

Right. Carry on!