The Quest for... Win?: White-Kettle Shufflepunk Reads Harry Potter

[Honka Honka Burning Love]

It's not the turn to evil that' I don't buy, it's the joining up with a lot as humorless as the death eaters.

They would be the Megaminds of the setting and be infinitely more successful than Voldemort.

 

[PyrrhicRustle]

I wonder how long the acronym exists before the meaning

At least Ordinary Wizarding Level is a semi-plausible test name for a standardized test and by the time the characters actually take it it doesn’t clash overmuch with the darker more grounded tone of the series. The NEWT one is never not ridiculous and especially with the stakes of seventeen year old Harry’s life him having to sit the “Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Test” would have been embarrassing. Kids Next Door episode name level backronym there.

They would be the Megaminds of the setting and be infinitely more successful than Voldemort.

Harry Potter magic does lend itself well to PRESENTATION! if you’ve got the imagination.

 

[Mola Ram]

The NEWT one is never not ridiculous and especially with the stakes of seventeen year old Harry’s life him having to sit the “Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Test” would have been embarrassing.

I suppose both crafting and destroying a Horcrux is "nastily exhausting."

 

[Greedy Fly]

As long as we're talking about these tests, it's always bugged me that Bill, Percy, and maybe Barty Crouch Jr all apparently got 12 OWLs, meaning they must have been taking the same course overload Hermione tried to do, meaning they all had timeturners from Year 3 to Year 5 or longer if they went on for NEWTs in all 12 classes. At a minimum Percy would have been time travelling all during Harry's first year.

(Or maybe JKR is really just that bad at math).

 

[TheAmbiguousLurker]

Harry Potter magic does lend itself well to PRESENTATION! if you’ve got the imagination.

You just know someone's carrying around a trinket enchanted to play theme music whenever they enter a room.

 

[Mola Ram]

As long as we're talking about these tests, it's always bugged me that Bill, Percy, and maybe Barty Crouch Jr all apparently got 12 OWLs, meaning they must have been taking the same course overload Hermione tried to do, meaning they all had timeturners from Year 3 to Year 5 or longer if they went on for NEWTs in all 12 classes. At a minimum Percy would have been time travelling all during Harry's first year.

(Or maybe JKR is really just that bad at math).

Maybe you could sit for additional OWLS in Year 6? Not surprising Harry and Ron don't bother, but you'd think Hermione would be racking them up.

 

[Replacement Account]

As long as we're talking about these tests, it's always bugged me that Bill, Percy, and maybe Barty Crouch Jr all apparently got 12 OWLs, meaning they must have been taking the same course overload Hermione tried to do, meaning they all had timeturners from Year 3 to Year 5 or longer if they went on for NEWTs in all 12 classes. At a minimum Percy would have been time travelling all during Harry's first year.

(Or maybe JKR is really just that bad at math).

Hermione is good at this sort of thing, but she also ends up spending a larger proportional time having to worry about life or death adventures with the Main Character, which I don't think Bill or Percy needed to worry about, unless I'm missing something about Hogwarts Mystery.

 

[Midwit]

NEWT one is never not ridiculous and especially with the stakes of seventeen year old Harry’s life him having to sit the “Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Test” would have been embarrassing.

National Execution of Wizardry Test, it's an awkward one but it kinda works.

 

[Replacement Account]

I'd like to think that the NEWTs were originally named more normally long ago, but people started calling them Nastilly Exhausting at some point and it just stuck.

 

[LoverofPi]

National Execution of Wizardry Test, it's an awkward one but it kinda works.

Nice Evaluation of Wizardry Test

This is in the old sense of exacting and precise.

Noteworthy Exemplar of Wizarding Test


Also, a fun angle to have taken Ron would be for him to just sort of understand muggle technology without understanding what it was for, just from futzing about in the shed with his dad. Wouldn't have to be a major thing, just a funny subversion of expectations.

 

[White-Kettle Shufflepunk]

...I mean, with Card being Card and the first real encounter we have with the Witch being grooming Edmund...

Surely it'd be the White Warlock.

Sadly, that would require the Muggle world to be relevant, but it would be a cool idea, especially if it came with the complication that the bit of kit had been unexpectedly improved.

It's a shame wizards seem to suffer from a mix of cultural chauvinism and that tendency Douglas Adams noted where people treated technology introduced before their adolescence as part of nature, as opposed to technology introduced when they're older, which is an abomination. HP magic seems really good at enhancing the function of Muggle technology (photography, the Knight Bus, storage) but they seem to outlaw most such applications. Very Clarkson's Farm.

Dukes, and to clarify, it was the British Lady who now goes by Captain Britain, back in a copy of her original body, and not either of the Japanese ladies who now bear that codename. Comics are confusing and bullshit at times.

And then they banged. Hard.

Disdain for poisoners is one of those general cultural universals, because poisoning, or even the idea that you'd sanction a poisoner in your midst, means that no one reasonable will eat with you, trade with you, or give you access to any of their shit. And most of all, it's not funny. There was no planned release of tension afterwards, actually having a multi-foot-long-tongue would be horrifying and could extremely easily suffocate you before you got any wizardly help, and the only thing it does have going for it is an alliterative name

It's part of their Junji Ito series. Be grateful Dudley didn't eat one of their Gyo Gyros:

I'd joke about Dudley being into that, but I don't think he'd be into anything that prevents him from eating.

But it's still sad to know that not only does Arthur have a price, he's happy to mention it in front of friends and family.

I just want to know what kind of unnatural powers that lawnmower had. Did it have an 'undo' feature? Also, notice this implies that wizards don't have an easy way of keeping their lawns trimmed. I'm guessing the traditional method is casting Diffindo and hoping that you don't sever a stray toddler's ankles.

Actually, wizards map surprisingly cleanly onto fey; secret kingdoms, inflict transformative vengeance disproportionately for slights against their honor, long-lived and durable-but-not-invincible, and they sure fucking glamoured a generation or two. And, of course, they flee at the sound of churchbells.

I think a couple of fanfics have suggested wizards are descended from changelings who survived childhood and interbred with human folk. Not a bad idea, really, even if canon fairies seem to be sub-sapient insects.

But, oh boy, who's looking forward to more plot-necessary Quidditch? Ah well, at least I have Christmas leftovers and liquid cheer in reserve.

At least we get atmosphere and worldbuilding! Rowling worldbuilding, but still!

Harry felt as though he had barely lain down to sleep in Ron’s room when he was being shaken awake by Mrs. Weasley.

“Time to go, Harry, dear,” she whispered, moving away to wake Ron.

Harry felt around for his glasses, put them on, and sat up. It was still dark outside. Ron muttered indistinctly as his mother roused him. At the foot of Harry’s mattress he saw two large, disheveled shapes emerging from tangles of blankets.

Fun fact, this is precisely where the film version starts. I said earlier that I wouldn't begrudge a competent adaptation cutting the Dursley stuff, but in the film it comes off very... disorienting, I guess is the word? The whole film feels exceptionally rushed, and there's little sense of narrative flow. It's just a bunch of stuff that happens.

Mrs. Weasley was stirring the contents of a large pot on the stove, while Mr. Weasley was sitting at the table, checking a sheaf of large parchment tickets.

Guys, I know you know how to make paper. It's what all your schoolbooks are printed on!

He looked up as the boys entered and spread his arms so that they could see his clothes more clearly. He was wearing what appeared to be a golfing sweater and a very old pair of jeans, slightly too big for him and held up with a thick leather belt.

“What d’you think?” he asked anxiously. “We’re supposed to go incognito — do I look like a Muggle, Harry?”

“Yeah,” said Harry, smiling, “very good.”

This is of course adorable, but it still bugs me nobody--not even Hermione, champion of books--ever suggests Arthur join the local library if he wants to learn about Muggle stuff. Maybe they're afraid if Arthur gains even a basic understanding of Muggle science, he'll produce a Rubber Duckie of Mass Destruction, or turn into Jacky Magus. I also notice this is treated as like, a rare occasion where the Weasleys have to travel amongst the Muggles, even though Arthur commutes to London every workday, and they live right next to a Muggle village. You'd think he'd have a decent idea of how Muggles dress from simple observation, even disregarding his special interest in them. It's a bit like being an old school Orientalist who lives in Iran, and somehow not knowing the women there wear veils. Again, I think the later films squared this well by just having wizards and witches dress slightly out of date outside of Hogwarts.

Where’re Bill and Charlie and Per-Per-Percy?” said George, failing to stifle a huge yawn.

“Well, they’re Apparating, aren’t they?” said Mrs. Weasley, heaving the large pot over to the table and starting to ladle porridge into bowls. “So they can have a bit of a lie-in.”

Harry knew that Apparating meant disappearing from one place and reappearing almost instantly in another, but had never known any Hogwarts student to do it, and understood that it was very difficult.

I would remark that it seems to be the wizard equivalent of knowing how to drive, but driving is probably one of the more complex skills a modern, post-industrial adult.

“So they’re still in bed?” said Fred grumpily, pulling his bowl of porridge toward him. “Why can’t we Apparate too?”

“Because you’re not of age and you haven’t passed your test,” snapped Mrs. Weasley.

"And we need to provide exposition to Harry!"

“You have to pass a test to Apparate?” Harry asked.

“Oh yes,” said Mr. Weasley, tucking the tickets safely into the back pocket of his jeans. “The Department of Magical Transportation had to fine a couple of people the other day for Apparating without a license. It’s not easy, Apparition, and when it’s not done properly it can lead to nasty complications. This pair I’m talking about went and splinched themselves.”

Everyone around the table except Harry winced.

“Er — splinched?” said Harry.

“They left half of themselves behind,” said Mr. Weasley, now spooning large amounts of treacle onto his porridge. “So, of course, they were stuck. Couldn’t move either way. Had to wait for the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad to sort them out. Meant a fair old bit of paperwork, I can tell you, what with the Muggles who spotted the body parts they’d left behind. …”

This is a great example of the weird tonal clash the series has. Here, splinching is treated as a grotesque, but fairly comical concept. I think the reader is supposed to be picturing like, disembodied body parts, not the aftermath of a drone strike. However, when we see someone get splinched in the last book, it's a bloody, painful affair that almost proved fatal. I was going to say that sometimes, gruesome shit does sound kind of funny when you've only had it described in a very abstract sense, but notice Arthur says they "had to wait for the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad to sort them out" and not "luckily, there was a healer on hand to stop them bleeding out."

Were they okay?” he asked, startled.

“Oh yes,” said Mr. Weasley matter-of-factly. “But they got a heavy fine, and I don’t think they’ll be trying it again in a hurry. You don’t mess around with Apparition. There are plenty of adult wizards who don’t bother with it. Prefer brooms — slower, but safer.”

I feel like we rarely see characters use broomsticks for actual travel, but I suppose we spend most of the series in a boarding school.

“But Bill and Charlie and Percy can all do it?”

“Charlie had to take the test twice,” said Fred, grinning. “He failed the first time, Apparated five miles south of where he meant to, right on top of some poor old dear doing her shopping, remember?”

"She got all over the walls."

“Why do we have to be up so early?” Ginny said, rubbing her eyes and sitting down at the table.

“We’ve got a bit of a walk,” said Mr. Weasley.

“Walk?” said Harry. “What, are we walking to the World Cup?”

“No, no, that’s miles away,” said Mr. Weasley, smiling. “We only need to walk a short way. It’s just that it’s very difficult for a large number of wizards to congregate without attracting Muggle attention. We have to be very careful about how we travel at the best of times, and on a huge occasion like the Quidditch World Cup—”

"Arthur then remembered he and dozens of other witches and wizards work in a major Muggle metropolis."

“George!” said Mrs. Weasley sharply, and they all jumped.

“What?” said George, in an innocent tone that deceived nobody.

“What is that in your pocket?”

“Nothing!”

“Don’t you lie to me!”

Mrs. Weasley pointed her wand at George’s pocket and said, “Accio!”

Hogwarts Legacy tries explaining that when you use Accio on enemies, you're actually targeting their clothes and not the person itself. Aside from the fact that should probably result in nude children seven times out of ten, it then proceeds to let you use Accio on like, dogs and shit.

Several small, brightly colored objects zoomed out of George’s pocket; he made a grab for them but missed, and they sped right into Mrs. Weasley’s outstretched hand.

“We told you to destroy them!” said Mrs. Weasley furiously, holding up what were unmistakably more Ton-Tongue Toffees. “We told you to get rid of the lot! Empty your pockets, go on, both of you!”

It was an unpleasant scene; the twins had evidently been trying to smuggle as many toffees out of the house as possible, and it was only by using her Summoning Charm that Mrs. Weasley managed to find them all.

Are we sure the twins won't to start a joke shop, or make a bunch of homicide detective lose their lunch? God, imagine if this was how Tom killed his family.

“We spent six months developing those!” Fred shouted at his mother as she threw the toffees away.

“Oh a fine way to spend six months!” she shrieked. “No wonder you didn’t get more O.W.L.s!”

I joked about Molly stifling the twins' ambition last post, but they really ought to focus on their studies first. They'll know much more ways of mutilating people.

It was chilly and the moon was still out. Only a dull, greenish tinge along the horizon to their right showed that daybreak was drawing closer. Harry, having been thinking about thousands of wizards speeding toward the Quidditch World Cup, sped up to walk with Mr. Weasley.

“So how does everyone get there without all the Muggles noticing?” he asked.

“It’s been a massive organizational problem,” sighed Mr. Weasley. “The trouble is, about a hundred thousand wizards turn up at the World Cup, and of course, we just haven’t got a magical site big enough to accommodate them all. There are places Muggles can’t penetrate, but imagine trying to pack a hundred thousand wizards into Diagon Alley or platform nine and three-quarters.

As you can see, wizards have shit logistics. Even though they can create pocket dimensions, Also, a reminder this was set before the UK was importing a million foreigners permanently a year.

So we had to find a nice deserted moor, and set up as many anti-Muggle precautions as possible. The whole Ministry’s been working on it for months. First, of course, we have to stagger the arrivals. People with cheaper tickets have to arrive two weeks beforehand. A limited number use Muggle transport, but we can’t have too many clogging up their buses and trains— remember, wizards are coming from all over the world. Some Apparate, of course, but we have to set up safe points for them to appear, well away from Muggles. I believe there’s a handy wood they’re using as the Apparition point. For those who don’t want to Apparate, or can’t, we use Portkeys. They’re objects that are used to transport wizards from one spot to another at a prearranged time. You can do large groups at a time if you need to. There have been two hundred Portkeys placed at strategic points around Britain, and the nearest one to us is up at the top of Stoatshead Hill, so that’s where we’re headed.

If only you could teleport via fireplaces, and were capable of setting up temporary links! Honestly, I'm surprised they don't just hold the World Cup on an enchanted island somewhere. Or maybe they tried that, and that island's name is Azkaban.

“What sort of objects are Portkeys?” said Harry curiously.

“Well, they can be anything,” said Mr. Weasley. “Unobtrusive things, obviously, so Muggles don’t go picking them up and playing with them … stuff they’ll just think is litter. …”

Because people never pick up litter.

“Now we just need the Portkey,” said Mr. Weasley, replacing his glasses and squinting around at the ground. “It won’t be big. … Come on …”

They spread out, searching. They had only been at it for a couple of minutes, however, when a shout rent the still air.

“Over here, Arthur! Over here, son, we’ve got it!”

Two tall figures were silhouetted against the starry sky on the other side of the hilltop.

“Amos!” said Mr. Weasley, smiling as he strode over to the man who had shouted. The rest of them followed.
Mr. Weasley was shaking hands with a ruddy-faced wizard with a scrubby brown beard, who was holding a moldy-looking old boot in his other hand.

Yes, the wizarding solution to transporting a large number of people to a sports event is to scatter enchanted detritus near Muggle settlements, and hope the wizards find it before it teleports away with whoever's touching it. I assume their first idea was to cast a Pied Piper spell on anyone who listened to "Cotton-Eyed Joe."

“This is Amos Diggory, everyone,” said Mr. Weasley. “He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

Who I assume just got done sucking off Lucius Malfoy last book.

Cedric Diggory was an extremely handsome boy of around seventeen.

I envy fictional characters their ability to be so granular when telling someone's age.

He was Captain and Seeker of the Hufflepuff House Quidditch team at Hogwarts.

“Hi,” said Cedric, looking around at them all.

Everybody said hi back except Fred and George, who merely nodded. They had never quite forgiven Cedric for beating their team, Gryffindor, in the first Quidditch match of the previous year.

Seekers must be the most hated people in the world. It's probably not news to any of you that Cedric Diggory was played by Robert Patterson, who of course went on to play Edward Cullen in Twilight, followed by a run of actual good films that eventually lead to a pretty well received turn as Batman. What you might not know is that Henry Cavill also auditioned for the role. Am I suggesting there's a timeline where Rob played a controversial incarnation of Superman, whereas Henry Cavill ended up playing Batman after a slew of indie films? God I hope so. But what adaptation of a Slavic fantasy series was alt-Rob frozen out of for giving too much of a shit? Star-Diaries? Night Watch?

Amos then proceeds to crow about his son beating Harry Potter (brushing aside little things like Harry being swarmed by Dementors) which Cedric has the decency to be embarrassed by, and the group head off via Portkey.

“Must be nearly time,” said Mr. Weasley quickly, pulling out his watch again. “Do you know whether we’re waiting for any more, Amos?”
“No, the Lovegoods have been there for a week already and the Fawcetts couldn’t get tickets,” said Mr. Diggory. “There aren’t any more of us in this area, are there?”

Must be nice being your own boss sometimes. Also, pity the Fawcetts, they haven't been able to afford tickets since they lost Captain Marvel in the lawsuit.

 

[TheAmbiguousLurker]

Maybe they're afraid if Arthur gains even a basic Muggle science, he'll produce a Rubber Duckie of Mass Destruction, or turn into Jacky Magus.

Arthur's fascination with muggles is the only thing keeping him contained. Unchecked, Arthur Weasley would be a diabolical threat.

As you can see, wizards have shit logistics. Even though they can create pocket dimensions, Also, a reminder this was set before the UK was importing a million foreigners permanently a year.

You think there was a wizard hiding portkeys around London to suddenly send people back to their countries?

Yes, the wizarding solution to transporting a large number of people to a sports event is to scatter enchanted detritus near Muggle settlements, and hope the wizards find it before it teleports away with whoever's touching it. I assume their first idea was to cast a Pied Piper spell on anyone who listened to "Cotton-Eyed Joe."

One day Wizards will develop captcha magic.

I envy fictional characters their ability to be so granular when telling someone's age.

Alright boys, how many Twilight jokes can we fit in this thread before we finish this book?

 

[LoverofPi]

Am I suggesting there's a timeline where Rob played a controversial incarnation of Superman, whereas Henry Cavill ended up playing Batman after a slew of indie films? God I hope so. But what adaptation of a Slavic fantasy series was alt-Rob frozen out of for giving too much of a shit? Star-Diaries? Night Watch?

In the Alt Timeline CDPR actually made a series of really well received Cyberpunk games first, leading Robert to be frozen out of playing Johnny Silverhands, while Keanu Reeves would go on to provide the voice and likeness for Jaskier/ Dandelion when they made their very buggy Witcher game.

Alright boys, how many Twilight jokes can we fit in this thread before we finish this book?

Imagine a crossover and all the vampires keep greeting Snape like he's one of them (he is not) but he should really work on looking more like a normal human because he's going to get found out.

 

[Kari Kamiya]

Hogwarts Legacy tries explaining that when you use Accio on enemies, you're actually targeting their clothes and not the person itself. Aside from the fact that should probably result in nude children seven times out of ten, it then proceeds to let you use Accio on like, dogs and shit.

Oh my God I can finally post this:

Alright boys, how many Twilight jokes can we fit in this thread before we finish this book?

Tyler's Chevy van became enchanted and was able to escape to make sweet love with the feral Ford Anglia. I'm almost certain this was a fanfic or a crossover joke somewhere.

 

[PyrrhicRustle]

I just want to know what kind of unnatural powers that lawnmower had. Did it have an 'undo' feature?

A lawnmower that slightly increases the length of the grass rather than cuts it down is a funny prank from a wizard point of view and is definitely preferable to most things you could do to misuse a lawnmower.

No, the Lovegoods have been there for a week already

When I was a kid I reread all these books a dozen times each and what I remember being most impressed by over all the other books I read was Rowling’s ability for setup and payoff books down the line. There’s better examples but this throwaway line alone sets up one of the most important side characters in the series in multiple ways. Luna lives close to the Weasleys, so she ends up friendly with Ginny and they had to be there a week early so they’re not exactly well off. Of course sometimes its hard to tell if Rowling had something planned out or if she was just good at throwing out random lines early on and whenever she needed some character or location she could go back and link it to a throwaway reference.

You think there was a wizard hiding portkeys around London to suddenly send people back to their countries?

The secret war between Brexit wizards setting up Portkeys of St. George’s flags so anyone trying to tear them down gets sent to Pakistan and NGO wizards arranging for group flying carpets from parts unknown to mysteriously and smoothly go down over Kent so the wizards aboard can be granted emergency refugee status.

 

[Gay Sex Enjoyer]

Am I suggesting there's a timeline where Rob played a controversial incarnation of Superman, whereas Henry Cavill ended up playing Batman after a slew of indie films?

You know who I always wanted to see as Superman?

Brendan Fraser.

I feel like he could've pulled off both Clark and Superman really well back in the early 00s.

 

[IridiumDragon06]

Not a bad idea, really, even if canon fairies seem to be sub-sapient insects.

*gestures at Changeling: the Dreaming*

But yeah, even with depictions like Tinkerbell in Peter Pan, she is explicitly described as not reaching human levels of cogitation, and there are plenty of historic bits of lore about garden sprites that, while more elegant than the gnomes, behave pretty similarly.

If only you could teleport via fireplaces, and were capable of setting up temporary links!

It would still be a challenge. Even if you could set it up like airplane boarding, where you get a bunch of wizards in a room and march them through a fireplace in order, you'd still need a distributed network of landing fireplaces, which means actually building fireplaces in bulk in a remote area (which could raise questions) or trying to repurpose Muggle construction (which could have standardization problems), and you have people carrying tents, camping supplies, etc. so it won't be a simple walkthrough.

It does feel like getting a Portkey in an envelope with your ticket would be a much better solution, but this was clearly a "Work backwards from the dramatic scene I want." bit of supporting dialogue.

Because people never pick up litter.

In Great Britian? Is there a sad_yes_chad.jpg floating around anywhere?

You think there was a wizard hiding portkeys around London to suddenly send people back to their countries?

I'd slag on Britan's teeming brown hordes for never falling for such an obvious trap as trying to very slightly beautify and improve the hygiene of their surroundings, but that is a charge that can get laid against an uncomfortably large percentage of the natives as well. (That being said, elderly British pensioner who does secretly try to make a dent in the Birmingham bin problem without a permit, grabs an anti-migrant portkey, and is "Instructions Unclear, Time-Turned to the height of the British Empire" to be sent back to his proper nation sounds like a fun story.)

And yeah, the introduction of Cedric does put in work. We can take it as assumed that we know what favor Amos did that got a random government worker the swanky tickets, and the line about the Lovegoods and Fawcets does confirm that these tickets are something not generally available to the Weasley's (and their peers') socioeconomic class, and it does it while name-dropping the Lovegoods so we have that info about Luna when we meet her. I've said it before and hope to keep saying it again, the books are, generally, well-written.

 

[Stab You in the Back]

And yeah, the introduction of Cedric does put in work. We can take it as assumed that we know what favor Amos did that got a random government worker the swanky tickets, and the line about the Lovegoods and Fawcets does confirm that these tickets are something not generally available to the Weasley's (and their peers') socioeconomic class, and it does it while name-dropping the Lovegoods so we have that info about Luna when we meet her. I've said it before and hope to keep saying it again, the books are, generally, well-written.

Scarcity in seating seems absurd when in the very same sequence they have a tent which opens to a pocket dimension.

 

[White-Kettle Shufflepunk]

*gestures at Changeling: the Dreaming*

Story where some Unseelie fae swap Harry for their own offspring and let him go HAM on the Dursleys.

Of course, this assumes Dudley himself isn't a changeling. I refer you to the writings of Martin Luther, who, after papal corruption and Jews, hated nothing more than filthy fucking killcrops:

Eight years ago [in the year 1532] at Dessau, I, Dr. Martin Luther, saw and touched a changeling. It was twelve years old, and from its eyes and the fact that it had all of its senses, one could have thought that it was a real child. It did nothing but eat; in fact, it ate enough for any four peasants or threshers. It ate, shit, and pissed, and whenever someone touched it, it cried. When bad things happened in the house, it laughed and was happy; but when things went well, it cried. It had these two virtues. I said to the Princes of Anhalt: "If I were the prince or the ruler here, I would throw this child into the water--into the Molda that flows by Dessau. I would dare commit homicidium on him!" But the Elector of Saxony, who was with me at Dessau, and the Princes of Anhalt did not want to follow my advice. Therefore, I said: "Then you should have all Christians repeat the Lord's Prayer in church that God may exorcise the devil." They did this daily at Dessau, and the changeling child died in the following year.... Such a changeling child is only a piece of flesh, a massa carnis, because it has no soul.

One thing I find interesting is that fairies do not enter the equation at all with Luther--it's all Devil, all the time.

Harry disentangled himself from Ron and got to his feet.

Finally, a ship that makes sense!

They had arrived on what appeared to be a deserted stretch of misty moor. In front of them was a pair of tired and grumpy-looking wizards, one of whom was holding a large gold watch, the other a thick roll of parchment and a quill. Both were dressed as Muggles, though very inexpertly: The man with the watch wore a tweed suit with thigh-length galoshes; his colleague, a kilt and a poncho.

Do wizards just wear horse-blinders whenever they go outside? How do they not know what rain boots are?

A man was standing in the doorway, looking out at the tents. Harry knew at a glance that this was the only real Muggle for several acres. When he heard their footsteps, he turned his head to look at them.

“Morning!” said Mr. Weasley brightly.

“Morning,” said the Muggle.

“Would you be Mr. Roberts?”

So, when Muggleborns and half-bloods graduate Hogwarts and the other wizarding schools, do they just have the Muggle knowledge sucked out of their skulls? Or is Harry just the only Muggle-raised Quidditch fan--actually, that scans. Mr. Roberts is the site manager for this campground, and no, he doesn't know about magic. I think I've said this earlier, but you'd think there'd be a market for wizard-inclusive services by like, close relatives of magical folk.

“You’ll be paying now, then?” said Mr. Roberts.

“Ah — right — certainly —” said Mr. Weasley. He retreated a short distance from the cottage and beckoned Harry toward him. “Help me, Harry,” he muttered, pulling a roll of Muggle money from his pocket and starting to peel the notes apart. “This one’s a — a — a ten? Ah yes, I see the little number on it now. … So this is a five?”

“A twenty,” Harry corrected him in an undertone, uncomfortably aware of Mr. Roberts trying to catch every word.

“Ah yes, so it is. … I don’t know, these little bits of paper …”

...

It says "five pounds" right on the fucking note. And there's another five in the top left corner! It really bugs me that Arthur of all people is this ignorant. One, you're telling me Arthur doesn't have a complete collection of British Muggle currency? Two, his whole job is dealing with wizards enchanting Muggle shit. I refuse to believe wizards have never tried to defraud Muggles with the old "fairy gold" trick. Wait, who am I kidding, that's probably legal according to the Ministry.

“You foreign?” said Mr. Roberts as Mr. Weasley returned with the correct notes.

“Foreign?” repeated Mr. Weasley, puzzled.

Why don't the wizards live in personal pocket dimensions?

You’re not the first one who’s had trouble with money,” said Mr. Roberts, scrutinizing Mr. Weasley closely. “I had two try and pay me with great gold coins the size of hubcaps ten minutes ago.”

I'm guessing Mr. Roberts is exaggerating a little, but Rowling is just crazy enough sometimes, I wouldn't be surprised if she casually revealed the characters were lugging around gigantic golden discs like the had the contract for Voyager probes this entire time. Actually, probably best not to involve wizards with that:

Never been this crowded,” he said suddenly, looking out over the misty field again. “Hundreds of pre-bookings. People usually just turn up. …”

“Is that right?” said Mr. Weasley, his hand held out for his change, but Mr. Roberts didn’t give it to him.

“Aye,” he said thoughtfully. “People from all over. Loads of foreigners. And not just foreigners. Weirdos, you know? There’s a bloke walking ’round in a kilt and a poncho.”

“Shouldn’t he?” said Mr. Weasley anxiously.

“It’s like some sort of … I dunno … like some sort of rally,” said Mr. Roberts. “They all seem to know each other. Like a big party.”

At that moment, a wizard in plus-fours appeared out of thin air next to Mr. Roberts’s front door.

So, did nobody at the Ministry even consider coming up with a fake event as a cover story? Ren Fair or something? I know a World Cup is a whole other kettle of fish to a local game, but it's weird the British seem to have no protocol or infrastructure for large magical events when they have multiple teams who regularly play against each other. Also, in case you don't know, plus-fours are basically golf pants. Tintin wears them.

“Obliviate!” he said sharply, pointing his wand at Mr. Roberts.

Instantly, Mr. Roberts’s eyes slid out of focus, his brows unknitted, and a look of dreamy unconcern fell over his face. Harry recognized the symptoms of one who had just had his memory modified.

“A map of the campsite for you,” Mr. Roberts said placidly to Mr. Weasley. “And your change.”
“Thanks very much,” said Mr. Weasley.

The wizard in plus-fours accompanied them toward the gate to the campsite. He looked exhausted: His chin was blue with stubble and there were deep purple shadows under his eyes. Once out of earshot of Mr. Roberts, he muttered to Mr. Weasley, “Been having a lot of trouble with him. Needs a Memory Charm ten times a day to keep him happy. And Ludo Bagman’s not helping. Trotting around talking about Bludgers and Quaffles at the top of his voice, not a worry about anti-Muggle security. Blimey, I’ll be glad when this is over. See you later, Arthur.”

A reminder that it's already been established Memory Charms can permanently damage people's minds if done improperly.

“I thought Mr. Bagman was Head of Magical Games and Sports,” said Ginny, looking surprised. “He should know better than to talk about Bludgers near Muggles, shouldn’t he?”

“He should,” said Mr. Weasley, smiling, and leading them through the gates into the campsite, “but Ludo’s always been a bit … well … lax about security. You couldn’t wish for a more enthusiastic head of the sports department though. He played Quidditch for England himself, you know. And he was the best Beater the Wimbourne Wasps ever had.”

The one position besides Seeker that sort of matters.

They trudged up the misty field between long rows of tents. Most looked almost ordinary; their owners had clearly tried to make them as Muggle-like as possible, but had slipped up by adding chimneys, or bellpulls, or weather vanes. However, here and there was a tent so obviously magical that Harry could hardly be surprised that Mr. Roberts was getting suspicious. Halfway up the field stood an extravagant confection of striped silk like a miniature palace, with several live peacocks tethered at the entrance.

I'm glad Hera could make time from her busy schedule of kicking shit downhill to attend the Cup.

“Always the same,” said Mr. Weasley, smiling. “We can’t resist showing off when we get together. Ah, here we are, look, this is us.”

They had reached the very edge of the wood at the top of the field, and here was an empty space, with a small sign hammered into the ground that read WEEZLY.

“Couldn’t have a better spot!” said Mr. Weasley happily. “The field is just on the other side of the wood there, we’re as close as we could be.” He hoisted his backpack from his shoulders. “Right,” he said excitedly, “no magic allowed, strictly speaking, not when we’re out in these numbers on Muggle land.

I know Britain isn't a big country, but couldn't we have saved ourselves a lot of trouble by buying or stealing the title to some worthless bit of land and going to town on it?

We’ll be putting these tents up by hand! Shouldn’t be too difficult. … Muggles do it all the time. … Here, Harry, where do you reckon we should start?”

You'd think Mr. Weasley would've read up a bit in advance. Aside from being prudent, he'd also probably enjoyed it.

Harry had never been camping in his life; the Dursleys had never taken him on any kind of holiday, preferring to leave him with Mrs. Figg, an old neighbor.

Plus, I assume nature gives Petunia hives, and Dudley would inevitably exterminate all life within thirty miles of their tent.

“We’ll be a bit cramped,” he called, “but I think we’ll all squeeze in. Come and have a look.”

Harry bent down, ducked under the tent flap, and felt his jaw drop. He had walked into what looked like an old-fashioned, three-room flat, complete with bathroom and kitchen. Oddly enough, it was furnished in exactly the same sort of style as Mrs. Figg’s house: There were crocheted covers on the mismatched chairs and a strong smell of cats.

Now I'm almost wondering if Mrs. Figg sold the likeness rights to her home or something to whoever produced these tents.

“Well, it’s not for long,” said Mr. Weasley, mopping his bald patch with a handkerchief and peering in at the four bunk beds that stood in the bedroom. “I borrowed this from Perkins at the office. Doesn’t camp much anymore, poor fellow, he’s got lumbago.”

Magical medicine has some weird blind spots.

“Well, why don’t you, Harry, and Hermione go and get us some water then” — Mr. Weasley handed over the kettle and a couple of saucepans — “and the rest of us will get some wood for a fire?”

"Look, we can bend time and space, but indoor plumbing? Might as well ask me to wake the dead."

“But we’ve got an oven,” said Ron. “Why can’t we just —”

“Ron, anti-Muggle security!” said Mr. Weasley, his face shining with anticipation. “When real Muggles camp, they cook on fires outdoors. I’ve seen them at it!”

Dartmoor was burned to the ground.

Now, with the sun newly risen and the mist lifting, they could see the city of tents that stretched in every direction. They made their way slowly through the rows, staring eagerly around. It was only just dawning on Harry how many witches and wizards there must be in the world; he had never really thought much about those in other countries.

To be fair to Harry, I doubt Rowling herself knows. That'd be an interesting kind of meta-cosmic horror, realising the universe you live in doesn't run on numbers, but vibes.

Their fellow campers were starting to wake up. First to stir were the families with small children; Harry had never seen witches and wizards this young before.

Didn't you spend a week in what was basically magical England's CBD? Or is the wizarding world a r/childfree utopia where kids under ten are not allowed in public spaces?

A tiny boy no older than two was crouched outside a large pyramid-shaped tent, holding a wand and poking
happily at a slug in the grass, which was swelling slowly to the size of a salami. As they drew level with him, his mother came hurrying out of the tent.

“How many times, Kevin? You don’t — touch — Daddy’s — wand — yecchh!”

A short way farther on, they saw two little witches, barely older than Kevin, who were riding toy broomsticks that rose only high enough for the girls’ toes to skim the dewy grass. A Ministry wizard had already spotted them; as he hurried past Harry, Ron, and Hermione he muttered distractedly, “In broad daylight! Parents having a lie-in, I suppose —”

Look, they paid good money for the recalled vibrating Nimbus 2000s, they're going to enjoy the peace and quiet it bought them!

Here and there adult wizards and witches were emerging from their tents and starting to cook breakfast. Some, with furtive looks around them, conjured fires with their wands; others were striking matches with dubious looks on their faces, as though sure this couldn’t work. Three African wizards sat in serious conversation, all of them wearing long white robes and roasting what looked like a rabbit on a bright purple fire, while a group of middle-aged American witches sat gossiping happily beneath a spangled banner stretched between their tents that read: THE SALEM WITCHES’ INSTITUTE. Harry caught snatches of conversation in strange languages from the inside of tents they passed, and though he couldn’t understand a word, the tone of every single voice was excited.

A lot of fanfiction writers assumed the Salem Witches Institute was an American magic school, perhaps single-sex for all your prurient male fantasies. Not a silly assumption, but it's actually Rowling projecting Britishisms onto America, like having an American call their apartment "a flat." The Women's Institute is, well, an women that has branches in the UK, New Zealand, Canada and Rhodesia (I wonder if they're still open) that raises money for various causes. The late Queen was a member for basically her entire adults life. One famous stunt was when (to the dismay of their superiors in the organisation) some middle-aged members of the Yorkshire WI posed nude (while doing everyday things like baking and knitting) to raise money for leukemia research. I think the Queen sat that one out. While there are of course similar organisations in America, the Women's Institute itself doesn't seem to have a presence in the US. A more authentically American sounding organisation might've been The League of Women Hexers, the American Witches League, or Mothers Against Drunk Flying.

Also, I've always found it darkly ironic that Salem is often treated as a Mecca for witchcraft when any of the actual people who died there would've been horrified at the suggestion they were actual witches. With the exception of Giles Corey (who refused to enter a plea so his property would go to his heirs instead of being seized by the state) everyone executed in the Salem Trials had plead guilty. People who "confessed" were spared, and sometimes joined in with the accusers, though they were still imprisoned alongside many dozens of others who were accused, but were left alive until everyone calmed down.
While the Salem Trials entered the halls of infamy pretty much as soon as they happened, the birth of the Salem Trial tourism industry seems to date back to an arc in series seven of Bewitched, where Darrin and Samantha head to Salem for a witchcraft convention. They even filmed on location. In another bit of irony, though, Salem, Massachusetts (despite having a statue of Elizabeth Montgomery as Samantha) is not actually the Salem where shit went down. That was Salem Village, now known as the town of Danvers. Back in the day, it was basically a collection of farms that was politically (and religiously, it was a whole thing) subordinate to the port town of Salem proper, which caused a lot of discontent that argurably played a role in the Trials themselves. However, many residents of Salem Town were accused during the Trials. People forget this, but the trials spilled out from the village all over New England. The accusers even went on tour. In the end, over two hundred people were accused, many of whom were imprisoned, resulting in massive social and economic disruption throughout the colony.

What I'm saying is, even if there were actual witches at Salem, you'd think they'd have moved.

“Er — is it my eyes, or has everything gone green?” said Ron.

It wasn’t just Ron’s eyes. They had walked into a patch of tents that were all covered with a thick growth of shamrocks, so that it looked as though small, oddly shaped hillocks had sprouted out of the earth. Grinning faces could be seen under those that had their flaps open. Then, from behind them, they heard their names.

I'm suddenly reminded of how in the original book The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, the Emerald City wasn't actually green, the Wizard just tricked everyone into wearing green tinted glasses by claiming the city's brilliance would strike them blind. And then the sequels immediately disregarded this, because Frank L. Baum gave even less of a fuck about meticulous worldbuilding than Rowling.

“Harry! Ron! Hermione!”

It was Seamus Finnigan, their fellow Gryffindor fourth year. He was sitting in front of his own shamrock-covered tent, with a sandy-haired woman who had to be his mother, and his best friend, Dean Thomas, also of Gryffindor.

“Like the decorations?” said Seamus, grinning. “The Ministry’s not too happy.”

“Ah, why shouldn’t we show our colors?” said Mrs. Finnigan. “You should see what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over their tents. You’ll be supporting Ireland, of course?” she added, eyeing Harry, Ron, and Hermione beadily. When they had assured her that they were indeed supporting Ireland, they set off again, though, as Ron said, “Like we’d say anything else surrounded by that lot.”

You should see what Seamus did to the Ulster supporters. Actually, there's a thought, in the eyes of British wizardry, is Ireland still a part of the UK? I assume so, since as far as I know, there's never any mention of an Irish Ministry of Magic, and I think if there was another school of magic in the Atlantic Peninsula (my favourite woke name for the British Isles) it'd come up, especially in this book. If anything, it's kind of odd Seamus is the only identified Irish kid we see.

It does make sense that, with whole comedically ignorant wizards are of their Muggle neighbours, their political geography wouldn't neatly map to ours. I'm just wondering what other incongruities there are. Does the Ottoman Empire still linger on in its associated magical bureaucracy? Does Cornelius Fudge have jurisdiction over the wizards and witches of Brittany? Do Muslim and Jewish witches and wizards in the Levant actually get along really well, but are confused by why the local Muggles are always setting off fireworks? God, imagine how confusing the last eighty or so years must've been for the Korean magical community.

The tents here had not been bedecked with plant life, but each and every one of them had the same poster attached to it, a poster of a very surly face with heavy black eyebrows. The picture was, of course, moving, but all it did was blink and scowl.

“Krum,” said Ron quietly.

“What?” said Hermione.

“Krum!” said Ron. “Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker!”

“He looks really grumpy,” said Hermione, looking around at the many Krums blinking and scowling at them.

“ ‘Really grumpy’?” Ron raised his eyes to the heavens. “Who cares what he looks like? He’s unbelievable. He’s really young too. Only just eighteen or something. He’s a genius, you wait until tonight, you’ll see.”

"When he sees the Snitch, he flies really fast and catches it!"

There was already a small queue for the tap in the corner of the field. Harry, Ron, and Hermione joined it, right behind a pair of men who were having a heated argument. One of them was a very old wizard who was wearing a long flowery nightgown. The other was clearly a Ministry wizard; he was holding out a pair of pinstriped trousers and almost crying with exasperation.

“Just put them on, Archie, there’s a good chap. You can’t walk around like that, the Muggle at the gate’s already getting suspicious —”

“I bought this in a Muggle shop,” said the old wizard stubbornly. “Muggles wear them.”

“Muggle women wear them, Archie, not the men, they wear these,” said the Ministry wizard, and he brandished the pinstriped trousers.

“I’m not putting them on,” said old Archie in indignation. “I like a healthy breeze ’round my privates, thanks.”

See, I always assumed that HP wizards wore trousers under their robes. Because they do in basically every visual depiction of them, ever. As you can probably guess, Archie is often used as proof that J.K Rowling was seeding transphobia in her work like she was the Chud Riddler, but this assumes that most British people in the year 2000 chiefly associated "men in dresses" with "males who claim to be literally, spiritually, and biologically women." Spoilers, they did not.

Honestly, I'm kind of on Archie's side. Any Muggle who sees him is probably going to wonder how they didn't notice it was Christmas, or try to remember which Python he was before thinking "This man is actually from a secretive subculture of sorcerers." Plus, Archie isn't trying to cheat at women's sports. He isn't insisting that children be medically altered to make him feel better about himself or fulfil some vicarious fantasy. He isn't demanding the use of unclear, euphemistic medical language, when the UK has more people than ever who aren't great with English. I'm guessing he doesn't think that, if he commits sexual crimes against women, he should be held in a women's prison. Dude just wants to wear a nightgown.

(God, been a while since I let loose)

Walking more slowly now, because of the weight of the water, they made their way back through the campsite. Here and there, they saw more familiar faces: other Hogwarts students with their families. Oliver Wood, the old captain of Harry’s House Quidditch team, who had just left Hogwarts, dragged Harry over to his parents’ tent to introduce him, and told him excitedly that he had just been signed to the Puddlemere United reserve team. Next they were hailed by Ernie Macmillan, a Hufflepuff fourth year, and a little farther on they saw Cho Chang, a very pretty girl who played Seeker on the Ravenclaw team. She waved and smiled at Harry, who slopped quite a lot of water down his front as he waved back.

I kind of wish Harry ran into McGonagall or Flitwick or someone at the Cup. Always an interesting experience as a kid running into a teacher outside of school.

More to stop Ron from smirking than anything, Harry hurriedly pointed out a large group of teenagers whom he had never seen before.
“Who d’you reckon they are?” he said. “They don’t go to Hogwarts, do they?”
“ ’Spect they go to some foreign school,” said Ron. “I know there are others. Never met anyone who went to one, though.

...You've never met someone from France? Don't have any relatives in Europe? Never bumped into an American in Diagon Alley? Bill or Charlie never bring home someone you met from work? Wait, the Weasleys have attended other World Cups before. Did the rest of the global magic community boycott those like it was the 1980 Olympics? What about their Egyptian trip? Do all Egyptian wizard kids get a scholarship to Hogwarts? I suppose there is precedent. Side-note, it's really funny to compare Ron in 1994 talking about places like Europe and South America like Prester John's Christian kingdom in the Orient to Hogwarts Legacy trying to make you think 1800s Britain was majority-minority.

Bill had a penfriend at a school in Brazil … this was years and years ago … and he wanted to go on an exchange trip but Mum and Dad couldn’t afford it. His penfriend got all offended when he said he wasn’t going and sent him a cursed hat. It made his ears shrivel up.”

What do you think the expenses are for a wizard holiday?

Harry laughed but didn’t voice the amazement he felt at hearing about other wizarding schools. He supposed, now that he saw representatives of so many nationalities in the campsite, that he had been stupid never to realize that Hogwarts couldn’t be the only one. He glanced at Hermione, who looked utterly unsurprised by the information. No doubt she had run across the news about other wizarding schools in some book or other.

"The news." I like how we're treating the fact Britain doesn't have a monopoly on the concept of school like a reveal.

At last they got the fire lit, though it was at least another hour before it was hot enough to cook anything. There was plenty to watch while they waited, however. Their tent seemed to be pitched right alongside a kind of thoroughfare to the field, and Ministry members kept hurrying up and down it, greeting Mr. Weasley cordially as they passed. Mr. Weasley kept up a running commentary, mainly for Harry’s and Hermione’s benefit; his own children knew too much about the Ministry to be greatly interested.

“That was Cuthbert Mockridge, Head of the Goblin Liaison Office.

Oh, so he's who I have to blame for the boring Hogwarts Legacy plot.

Here comes Gilbert Wimple; he’s with the Committee on Experimental Charms; he’s had those horns for a while now.

Nothing to do with the work, he's a refugee Qunari mage. Quite sad, really.

Also, do you hear that? That's Eliezer Yudkowsky completely ignoring the implication of this line.

Hello, Arnie … Arnold Peasegood, he’s an Obliviator — member of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, you know.

"He's developed so many fetishes."

and that’s Bode and Croaker … they’re Unspeakables. …”

“They’re what?”

“From the Department of Mysteries, top secret, no idea what they get up to.

They're basically magical scientists or natural philosophers, and yet another thing Methods kind of has to pretend doesn't exist.

Ludo Bagman was easily the most noticeable person Harry had seen so far, even including old Archie in his flowered nightdress. He was wearing long Quidditch robes in thick horizontal stripes of bright yellow and black. An enormous picture of a wasp was splashed across his chest. He had the look of a powerfully built man gone slightly to seed; the robes were stretched tightly across a large belly he surely had not had in the days when he had played Quidditch for England. His nose was squashed (probably broken by a stray Bludger, Harry thought), but his round blue eyes, short blond hair, and rosy complexion made him look like a very overgrown schoolboy.

Like seemingly everyone in this book, Ludo is yet another Sir Not Appearing In This Film. He also might have the most J.K Rowling Name of all time.

"Ahoy there!” Bagman called happily. He was walking as though he had springs attached to the balls of his feet and was plainly in a state of wild excitement.

He is also a pirate.

Bagman did the smallest of double takes when he heard Harry’s name, and his eyes performed the familiar flick upward to the scar on Harry’s forehead.

“Everyone,” Mr. Weasley continued, “this is Ludo Bagman, you know who he is, it’s thanks to him we’ve got such good tickets —”

Bagman beamed and waved his hand as if to say it had been nothing.

“Fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur?” he said eagerly, jingling what seemed to be a large amount of gold in the pockets of his yellow-and-black robes. “I’ve already got Roddy Pontner betting me Bulgaria will score first — I offered him nice odds, considering Ireland’s front three are the strongest I’ve seen in years — and little Agatha Timms has put up half shares in her eel farm on a week-long match.”

Man, I remember when sports gambling was considered vaguely seedy, and while widely enjoyed and often legally permitted, had a certain degree of friction in place that made it slightly difficult to access. Nowadays we just have celebrities encouraging addicts to give money to a black hole on their phones.

Oh … go on then,” said Mr. Weasley. “Let’s see … a Galleon on Ireland to win?”

“A Galleon?” Ludo Bagman looked slightly disappointed, but recovered himself. “Very well, very well … any other takers?”

“They’re a bit young to be gambling,” said Mr. Weasley. “Molly wouldn’t like —”

Based Molly.

“We’ll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts,” said Fred as he and George quickly pooled all their money, “that Ireland wins — but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch. Oh and we’ll throw in a fake wand.”

“You don’t want to go showing Mr. Bagman rubbish like that —” Percy hissed, but Bagman didn’t seem to think the wand was rubbish at all; on the contrary, his boyish face shone with excitement as he took it from Fred, and when the wand gave a loud squawk and turned into a rubber chicken, Bagman roared with laughter.

I feel like even in the late 90s, people were already clowning on Quidditch for being a two-player game disguised as a team sport, hence this.

Boys,” said Mr. Weasley under his breath, “I don’t want you betting. … That’s all your savings. … Your mother —”

“Don’t be a spoilsport, Arthur!” boomed Ludo Bagman, rattling his pockets excitedly. “They’re old enough to know what they want! You reckon Ireland will win but Krum’ll get the Snitch? Not a chance, boys, not a chance. … I’ll give you excellent odds on that one. … We’ll add five Galleons for the funny wand, then, shall we. …”

Notice however that Ludo clearly thinks the victor not catching the Snitch is absurdly unlikely.

“Couldn’t do me a brew, I suppose? I’m keeping an eye out for Barty Crouch. My Bulgarian opposite number’s making difficulties, and I can’t understand a word he’s saying. Barty’ll be able to sort it out. He speaks about a hundred and fifty languages.”

“Mr. Crouch?” said Percy, suddenly abandoning his look of poker-stiff disapproval and positively writhing with excitement. “He speaks over two hundred! Mermish and Gobbledegook and Troll …”

“Anyone can speak Troll,” said Fred dismissively. “All you have to do is point and grunt.”

I'm more interested in how he speaks Mermish, given what we see of it later.

“Any news of Bertha Jorkins yet, Ludo?” Mr. Weasley asked as Bagman settled himself down on the grass beside them all.

“Not a dicky bird,” said Bagman comfortably. “But she’ll turn up. Poor old Bertha … memory like a leaky cauldron and no sense of direction. Lost, you take my word for it. She’ll wander back into the office sometime in October, thinking it’s still July.”

“You don’t think it might be time to send someone to look for her?” Mr. Weasley suggested tentatively as Percy handed Bagman his tea.

“Barty Crouch keeps saying that,” said Bagman, his round eyes widening innocently, “but we really can’t spare anyone at the moment. Oh — talk of the devil! Barty!”

Sirius really should've waited a year to break out.

A wizard had just Apparated at their fireside, and he could not have made more of a contrast with Ludo Bagman, sprawled on the grass in his old Wasp robes. Barty Crouch was a stiff, upright, elderly man, dressed in an impeccably crisp suit and tie. The parting in his short gray hair was almost unnaturally straight, and his narrow toothbrush mustache looked as though he trimmed it using a slide rule. His shoes were very highly polished. Harry could see at once why Percy idolized him. Percy was a great believer in rigidly following rules, and Mr. Crouch had complied with the rule about Muggle dressing so thoroughly that he could have passed for a bank manager; Harry doubted even Uncle Vernon would have spotted him for what he really was.

Somewhere, Vernon is screaming and he doesn't know why. Barty Crouch isn't Sir Not Appearing In This Film, but with how gutted his part of the plot is, he might as well be.

“Pull up a bit of grass, Barty,” said Ludo brightly, patting the ground beside him.

“No thank you, Ludo,” said Crouch, and there was a bite of impatience in his voice. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. The Bulgarians are insisting we add another twelve seats to the Top Box.”

“Oh is that what they’re after?” said Bagman. “I thought the chap was asking to borrow a pair of tweezers. Bit of a strong accent.”

That seems incredibly easy for HP wizards.

“Mr. Crouch!” said Percy breathlessly, sunk into a kind of half-bow that made him look like a hunchback. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Oh,” said Mr. Crouch, looking over at Percy in mild surprise. “Yes — thank you, Weatherby”

Fred and George choked into their own cups. Percy, very pink around the ears, busied himself with the kettle.

“Oh and I’ve been wanting a word with you too, Arthur,” said Mr. Crouch, his sharp eyes falling upon Mr. Weasley.

I love that Barty is on a first name basis with Arthur, but somehow doesn't realise his son probably has the same surname.

“Ali Bashir’s on the warpath. He wants a word with you about your embargo on flying carpets.”

Mr. Weasley heaved a deep sigh.

“I sent him an owl about that just last week. If I’ve told him once I’ve told him a hundred times: Carpets are defined as a Muggle Artifact by the Registry of Proscribed Charmable Objects, but will he listen?”

I have no fucking idea why flying carpets are too risky, but not broomsticks. If anything, I feel like the broomstick is more likely to cause a masquerade breach, since the rider is visible from pretty much any angle.

“I doubt it,” said Mr. Crouch, accepting a cup from Percy. “He’s desperate to export here.”

“Well, they’ll never replace brooms in Britain, will they?” said Bagman.

“Ali thinks there’s a niche in the market for a family vehicle,” said Mr. Crouch. “I remember my grandfather had an Axminster that could seat twelve — but that was before carpets were banned, of course.”

He spoke as though he wanted to leave nobody in any doubt that all his ancestors had abided strictly by the law.

Kickbacks from Big Broom, got it. The grown-ups spend a page or so wink-wink-nudging each other about the Big Thing Happening at Hogwarts this year.

“What’s happening at Hogwarts, Dad?” said Fred at once. “What were they talking about?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” said Mr.Weasley, smiling.

“It’s classified information, until such time as the Ministry decides to release it,” said Percy stiffly. “Mr. Crouch was quite right not to disclose it.”

Well, you see, every seven years, we bind the lowest scoring kid to an altar and sacrifice them to the Devil. It used to be the lowest scoring Muggleborn kid, but we've made great strides since.

Salesmen start spruiking their wares:

“Wow, look at these!” said Harry, hurrying over to a cart piled high with what looked like brass binoculars, except that they were covered with all sorts of weird knobs and dials.

“Omnioculars,” said the saleswizard eagerly. “You can replay action … slow everything down … and they flash up a play-by-play breakdown if you need it. Bargain — ten Galleons each.”

“Wish I hadn’t bought this now,” said Ron, gesturing at his dancing shamrock hat and gazing longingly at the Omnioculars.

“Three pairs,” said Harry firmly to the wizard.

“No — don’t bother,” said Ron, going red.

Fanfic writers, is this how someone who's been stealing from his friend for years behaves?

He was always touchy about the fact that Harry, who had inherited a small fortune from his parents, had much more money than he did.

Fanfic writers meanwhile are touchy about it being a "small" fortune.

“You won’t be getting anything for Christmas,” Harry told him, thrusting Omnioculars into his and Hermione’s hands. “For about ten years, mind.”

“Fair enough,” said Ron, grinning.

“Oooh, thanks, Harry,” said Hermione.

Has Harry ever gotten the other two something for Christmas? Selfish abused orphan.

 

[LoverofPi]

Magical medicine has some weird blind spots.

It's not lower back pain, he's come down with a song.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hb_BEIFbLu0&list=PL8ROROde9rEP9jVUC_afPzsW5UgTYWoJm&index=1

Though it could have progressed into this

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xqexa9cGdL8

I'm suddenly reminded of how in the original book The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, the Emerald City wasn't actually green, the Wizard just tricked everyone into wearing green tinted glasses by claiming the city's brilliance would strike them blind. And then the sequels immediately disregarded this, because Frank L. Baum gave even less of a fuck about meticulous worldbuilding than Rowling.

You see when the Wizard was in power the emerald city had simply lost all its luster and shine, but with the return of Ozma to her rightful stature and power it magically became brilliantly green again.
I literally just made that up but it doesn't sound out of place for Oz at all.

Fanfic writers meanwhile are touchy about it being a "small" fortune.

If Harry Potter can't buy and sell entire nations on a whim, then what use is he as a self insert power fantasy?

Has Harry ever gotten the other two something for Christmas? Selfish abused orphan.

His presence is the present.