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

[White-Kettle Shufflepunk]

I don't care to shit up the thread by replying to ALL of the posts I impulsively added to my multi-quote queue in my read through, but...

You tease.

(Lovely to have you, glad the thread brightened up the weather for you)

 

[Lightning]

Incidentally, I was reading the Rowling Derangement Syndrome thread and wondered if we had a serious HP thread as I was regaining my childhood interest... and lo, we do! It's been a rather thrilling read so far, and I'll be keeping up as well.

@White-Kettle Shufflepunk I must ask since you seem to have a good grasp of what goes on in fanfic world, how did all the fat teenage girls collectively decide to have the biggest girlcrushes on Draco? Was it Tom Felton's performance? I'm just puzzled where did all the leather pants come from considering the books give little to no reason to even like the guy.

 

[Staticness]

how did all the fat teenage girls collectively decide to have the biggest girlcrushes on Draco? Was it Tom Felton's performance? I'm just puzzled where did all the leather pants come from considering the books give little to no reason to even like the guy.

“I can fix him” energy. Do you even have to ask at this point?

 

[Lightning]

“I can fix him” energy. Do you even have to ask at this point?

Understandable, but Draco doesn't have a single ambiguously "maybe I actually like you moment", unless you wish to interpret the book 7 actions as such, which come off as more "saving my own skin" kind of deal. Hardly the Edward Cullen you'd expect from the intense worship going on.

 

[Staticness]

Understandable, but Draco doesn't have a single ambiguously "maybe I actually like you moment", unless you wish to interpret the book 7 actions as such, which come off as more "saving my own skin" kind of deal. Hardly the Edward Cullen you'd expect from the intense worship going on.

He’s a rich bad boy who oozes “I am better than you and we both know it” energy. He is the jackass who is just “misunderstood” but he is a man of means at the end of the day and the idea that he can provide for a girl as well as his general consequence-free antagonism make him a heartthrob in spite of his general jackassery. Straight male readers want to deliver him to Stone Cold Steve Austin to receive Stunners every day for the rest of his life.

 

[Greedy Fly]

Was it Tom Felton's performance?

Yes.

 

[PyrrhicRustle]

Anyway, I'll stop sperging about wizardly minutiae before some mod decides to use their janitorial powers on me.

It’s a slow, out of the way non-lolcow thread, as long as you’re not spamming or picking fights no one is going to care. I doubt we’re on any of the staff’s radar at all.

 

[White-Kettle Shufflepunk]

The house of the privileged, pompous, pureblood, conniving nobles is from Ireland. Malfoy can't call himself a true Slytherin unless he starts mimicking Seamus' accent!

Seamus is the heir of Slytherin, you heard it here first.

I just want to know how high a body count we have to reach before wizards are like "Damn, this is dangerous..."

Wiped out the entire student bodies of all three schools--even the kids who didn't travel to the venue.

Yes.

Which is funny because Tom Felton still plays him as an absolute twerp.

The storm had blown itself out by the following morning, though the ceiling in the Great Hall was still gloomy; heavy clouds of pewter gray swirled overhead as Harry, Ron, and Hermione examined their new course schedules at breakfast. A few seats along, Fred, George, and Lee Jordan were discussing magical methods of aging themselves and bluffing their way into the Triwizard Tournament.

Just have Brian Michael Bendis torture them in a volcano for seven years so they can become the world's most boring bisexuals.

“Today’s not bad … outside all morning,” said Ron, who was running his finger down the Monday column of his schedule. “Herbology with the Hufflepuffs and Care of Magical Creatures … damn it, we’re still with the Slytherins.”

How do we think Draco's going to spit in the face of fairy tale Darwinism this year? Belly-flop onto a cursed spindle? Scoff an entire cursed apple pie? Tell a genie "surprise me"?

(I kid, this year Hagrid is the crazy one)

“Double Divination this afternoon,” Harry groaned, looking down. Divination was his least favorite subject, apart from Potions. Professor Trelawney kept predicting Harry’s death, which he found extremely annoying.

Trelawney: Well, maybe stop nearly dying every term!

“You should have given it up like me, shouldn’t you?” said Hermione briskly, buttering herself some toast. “Then you’d be doing something sensible like Arithmancy.”

Especially fanfiction Arithmancy, which gives you all sorts of superpowers, yet is somehow still only an elective.

You’re eating again, I notice,” said Ron, watching Hermione adding liberal amounts of jam to her toast too.

“I’ve decided there are better ways of making a stand about elf rights,” said Hermione haughtily.

“Yeah … and you were hungry,” said Ron, grinning.

As you can see, Rowling thinks activists should be able to back up their stances with sustainable action, which of course means she thinks segregation was good or something.

There was a sudden rustling noise above them, and a hundred owls came soaring through the open windows carrying the morning mail. Instinctively, Harry looked up, but there was no sign of white among the mass of brown and gray. The owls circled the tables, looking for the people to whom their letters and packages were addressed. A large tawny owl soared down to Neville Longbottom and deposited a parcel into his lap — Neville almost always forgot to pack something. On the other side of the Hall Draco Malfoy’s eagle owl had landed on his shoulder, carrying what looked like his usual supply of sweets and cakes from home.

Except this time, Dudley intercepted the package. You can tell the sweets were good, too, because he let the owl go. Harry is unsettled that Sirius hasn't gotten back to him. I'm guessing Sirius is still in Australia, busy banging women who look like if you cut into them they’d be skin-coloured and gummy-textured all the way through.

His preoccupation lasted all the way across the sodden vegetable patch until they arrived in greenhouse three, but here he was distracted by Professor Sprout showing the class the ugliest plants Harry had ever seen. Indeed, they looked less like plants than thick, black, giant slugs, protruding vertically out of the soil. Each was squirming slightly and had a number of large, shiny swellings upon it, which appeared to be full of liquid.

“Bubotubers,” Professor Sprout told them briskly. “They need squeezing. You will collect the pus —”

“The what?” said Seamus Finnigan, sounding revolted.

I still want to know where all these magical plants actually grow. I feel like they'd be harder to keep hidden from Muggles than the charismatic magical megafauna. At least dragons don't pop up in damp corners.

“This’ll keep Madam Pomfrey happy,” said Professor Sprout, stoppering the last bottle with a cork. “An excellent remedy for the more stubborn forms of acne, bubotuber pus. Should stop students resorting to desperate measures to rid themselves of pimples.”

“Like poor Eloise Midgen,” said Hannah Abbott, a Hufflepuff, in a hushed voice. “She tried to curse hers off.”

“Silly girl,” said Professor Sprout, shaking her head. “But Madam Pomfrey fixed her nose back on in the end.”

Could transitioning have saved Lord Voldemort?

Next up is Care of Magical Creatures. I'm not entirely sure why they need a whole multi-year course honestly. From experience, the main difficulty of caring for magical creatures is when you accidentally feed them twice and have to wait for the animation to finish before you brush them. What's Hagrid got for us today?

There were several open wooden crates on the ground at his feet, and Fang was whimpering and straining at his collar, apparently keen to investigate the contents more closely. As they drew nearer, an odd rattling noise reached their ears, punctuated by what sounded like minor explosions.

“Mornin’!” Hagrid said, grinning at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. “Be’er wait fer the Slytherins, they won’ want ter miss this — Blast-Ended Skrewts!”

“Come again?” said Ron.

So, in the last book, I argued that the hippogriffs were a perfectly appropriate lesson for a class of thirteen-year-old wizards and witches, and Hagrid should not be blamed for one of his students deliberately doing the exact opposite of his instructions.

“Eurgh!” squealed Lavender Brown, jumping backward.

“Eurgh” just about summed up the Blast-Ended Skrewts in Harry’s opinion. They looked like deformed, shell-less lobsters, horribly pale and slimy-looking, with legs sticking out in very odd places and no visible heads. There were about a hundred of them in each crate, each about six inches long, crawling over one another, bumping blindly into the sides of the boxes. They were giving off a very powerful smell of rotting fish. Every now and then, sparks would fly out of the end of a skrewt, and with a small phut, it would be propelled forward several inches.

“On’y jus’ hatched,” said Hagrid proudly, “so yeh’ll be able ter raise ’em yerselves! Thought we’d make a bit of a project of it!”

Yeah, this year, Hagrid's just nuts.

“And why would we want to raise them?” said a cold voice.

The Slytherins had arrived. The speaker was Draco Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle were chuckling appreciatively at his words.

Hagrid looked stumped at the question.

“I mean, what do they do?” asked Malfoy. “What is the point of them?”

Rare based Draco.

Hagrid opened his mouth, apparently thinking hard; there was a few seconds’ pause, then he said roughly, “Tha’s next lesson, Malfoy. Yer jus’ feedin’ ’em today. Now, yeh’ll wan’ ter try ’em on a few diff’rent things — I’ve never had ’em before, not sure what they’ll go fer — I got ant eggs an’ frog livers an’ a bit o’ grass snake — just try ’em out with a bit of each.”

“First pus and now this,” muttered Seamus.

Nothing but deep affection for Hagrid could have made Harry, Ron, and Hermione pick up squelchy handfuls of frog liver and lower them into the crates to tempt the Blast-Ended Skrewts. Harry couldn’t suppress the suspicion that the whole thing was entirely pointless, because the skrewts didn’t seem to have mouths.

It's easy to resent the Blast-Ended Skrewts for being horrible, but I feel like it's worth remembering they're probably having a bad time just by existing.

“Eurgh!” said Lavender Brown again. “Eurgh, Hagrid, what’s that pointy thing on it?”

“Ah, some of ’em have got stings,” said Hagrid enthusiastically (Lavender quickly withdrew her hand from the box). “I reckon they’re the males. … The females’ve got sorta sucker things on their bellies. … I think they might be ter suck blood.”

Someone should do an angry MRA parable about a race of humanoid mosquitos.

“Well, I can certainly see why we’re trying to keep them alive,” said Malfoy sarcastically. “Who wouldn’t want pets that can burn, sting, and bite all at once?”

“Just because they’re not very pretty, it doesn’t mean they’re not useful,” Hermione snapped. “Dragon blood’s amazingly magical, but you wouldn’t want a dragon for a pet, would you?”

Hermione has a point... or she would in any sane universe. Yeah, the Blast-Ended Skrewts are an entirely novel species Hagrid bred--presumably with the help of Barry White and some smooth liquor--hence his vagueness on every aspect of their care or biology. This is a bit like if, instead of teaching your high school class calculus, you made them ponder some sanity blasting, eldritch integer you invented.

“Well, at least the skrewts are small,” said Ron as they made their way back up to the castle for lunch an hour later.

“They are now,” said Hermione in an exasperated voice, “but once Hagrid’s found out what they eat, I expect they’ll be six feet long.”

“Well, that won’t matter if they turn out to cure seasickness or something, will it?” said Ron, grinning slyly at her.

“You know perfectly well I only said that to shut Malfoy up,” said Hermione. “As a matter of fact I think he’s right. The best thing to do would be to stamp on the lot of them before they start attacking us all.”

Based Hermione.

They sat down at the Gryffindor table and helped themselves to lamb chops and potatoes. Hermione began to eat so fast that Harry and Ron stared at her.

“Er — is this the new stand on elf rights?” said Ron. “You’re going to make yourself puke instead?”

“No,” said Hermione, with as much dignity as she could muster with her mouth bulging with sprouts. “I just want to get to the library.”

“What?” said Ron in disbelief. “Hermione — it’s the first day back! We haven’t even got homework yet!”

Ron: Reading for fun? What is this sorcery?

Actually, what do wizards say instead of "magic" in the proverbial sense? Quantum?

Maybe Trelawney can tell us:

“I was saying, my dear, that you were clearly born under the baleful influence of Saturn,” said Professor Trelawney, a faint note of resentment in her voice at the fact that he had obviously not been hanging on her words.

“Born under — what, sorry?” said Harry.

“Saturn, dear, the planet Saturn!” said Professor Trelawney, sounding definitely irritated that he wasn’t riveted by this news. “I was saying that Saturn was surely in a position of power in the heavens at the moment of your birth. … Your dark hair … your mean stature …
tragic losses so young in life … I think I am right in saying, my dear, that you were born in midwinter?”

“No,” said Harry, “I was born in July.”

Tom Riddle: My ears are burning! Kind of surprised I still have those. Because today's lesson is about the planets, Ron makes the same joke every boy who's ever lived has made when the subject of the seventh planet comes up, resulting in Trelawney giving them a massive homework load.

“Miserable old bat,” said Ron bitterly as they joined the crowds descending the staircases back to the Great Hall and dinner. “That’ll take all weekend, that will. …”

“Lots of homework?” said Hermione brightly, catching up with them. “Professor Vector didn’t give us any at all!”

“Well, bully for Professor Vector,” said Ron moodily.

That's the shocking secret of Arithmancy, it's even more of a bludge subject than Divination.

They reached the entrance hall, which was packed with people queuing for dinner.

Huh? I thought people just sat down and waited for the food to appear like at the feasts. Is there a dinner lady? Or do they eat in shifts?

As my entire worldview is upturned by this information, Draco and minions appear with a copy of the Daily Prophet.

FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC

It seems as though the Ministry of Magic’s troubles are not yet at an end, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Recently under fire for its poor crowd control at the Quidditch World Cup, and still unable to account for the disappearance of one of its witches, the Ministry was plunged into fresh embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley, of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office.”

Imagine if I wasn't lazy and incompetent and shopped a picture of Rimmer with flaming red hair.

Everyone in the entrance hall was listening now. Malfoy straightened the paper with a flourish and read on:


Arnold Weasley, who was charged with possession of a flying car two years ago, was yesterday involved in a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers (“policemen”) over a number of highly aggressive dustbins. Mr. Weasley appears to have rushed to the aid of “Mad-Eye” Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when no longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and attempted murder. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Weasley found, upon arrival at Mr. Moody’s heavily guarded house, that Mr. Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr. Weasley was forced to modify several memories before he could escape from the policemen, but refused to answer Daily Prophet questions about why he had involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene.

The way that's phrased makes it sound like they should've just let Moody go on a rampage and expose magic.

“And there’s a picture, Weasley!” said Malfoy, flipping the paper over and holding it up. “A picture of your parents outside their house — if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn’t she?”

Arnold likes having something to hold on to.

Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren’t you, Potter?” sneered Malfoy. “So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?”

“You know your mother, Malfoy?” said Harry — both he and Hermione had grabbed the back of Ron’s robes to stop him from launching himself at Malfoy — “that expression she’s got, like she’s got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?”

Malfoy’s pale face went slightly pink.

“Don’t you dare insult my mother, Potter.”

Again, fanfic Draco would've at least countered that it was because she was surrounded by Weasleys. Harry gives Draco some good advice about not giving out guff if you can't take it yourself, and turns his back--

BANG!

Several people screamed — Harry felt something white-hot graze the side of his face — he plunged his hand into his robes for his wand, but before he’d even touched it, he heard a second loud BANG, and a roar that echoed through the entrance hall.

“OH NO YOU DON’T, LADDIE!”

Harry spun around. Professor Moody was limping down the marble staircase. His wand was out and it was pointing right at a pure white ferret, which was shivering on the stone-flagged floor, exactly where Malfoy had been standing.

There was a terrified silence in the entrance hall. Nobody but Moody was moving a muscle. Moody turned to look at Harry — at least, his normal eye was looking at Harry; the other one was pointing into the back of his head.

Somewhere, the Dursleys (and the makers of Witch Girl Adventures) are masturbating hardcore.

“I don’t like people who attack when their opponent’s back’s turned,” growled Moody as the ferret bounced higher and higher, squealing in pain. “Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do. …”

The ferret flew through the air, its legs and tail flailing helplessly.

“Never — do — that — again —” said Moody, speaking each word as the ferret hit the stone floor and bounced upward again.

“Professor Moody!” said a shocked voice.

Professor McGonagall was coming down the marble staircase with her arms full of books.

“Hello, Professor McGonagall,” said Moody calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher.

So, spoilers for a best selling, world famous, almost thirty-year-old book, but this isn't Mad-Eye Moody, but a Death Eater in disguise as him. Specifically, a Death Eater convicted of torturing two people into permanent catatonia. I bring this up early because I wonder if Rowling wasn't setting us up a bit here.

“What — what are you doing?” said Professor McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing ferret’s progress through the air.

“Teaching,” said Moody.

“Teach — Moody, is that a student?” shrieked Professor McGonagall, the books spilling out of her arms.

“Yep,” said Moody.
“No!” cried Professor McGonagall, running down the stairs and pulling out her wand; a moment later, with a loud snapping noise, Draco Malfoy had reappeared, lying in a heap on the floor with his sleek blond hair all over his now brilliantly pink face. He got to his feet, wincing.

“Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment!” said Professor McGonagall weakly. “Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?”

We as the reader are inclined to think this whole scene is quite funny (which it is) but McGonagall is right to think it's inappropriate. Moody is essentially torturing a fourteen-year-old boy, when there were surely other ways of handling this situation. It's even worse if you know how Rowling conceptualises Circle style animal transformation. According to Tales of Beedle the Bard, when a person is transformed by a spell into an animal (as opposed to under their own violation, like an Animagi) they do not retain their own mind. Until and unless they are returned to human form, they're essentially just animals. So, depending on how you look at it, Mad-Eye basically brought an animal into existence terrified and confused, then abused it for the misdeeds of a mostly unrelated entity. That's... kind of fucked.

I'm left wondering if, when Rowling reveals Mad-Eye's true identity and what he did, we the reader are supposed to look back on this incident with different eyes. Or maybe she just thinks Draco being turned into a ferret for being an arsehole is funny, which to be fair, it is. That's the fun thing about Rowling, she's both competent and thoughtful enough that this could be deliberately challenging the reader, and fallible enough this could just be indulgence.

No sooner had she gone than her seat was taken by Fred Weasley.

“Moody!” he said. “How cool is he?”

“Beyond cool,” said George, sitting down opposite Fred.

“Supercool,” said the twins’ best friend, Lee Jordan, sliding into the seat beside George. “We had him this afternoon,” he told Harry and Ron.

“What was it like?” said Harry eagerly.

Fred, George, and Lee exchanged looks full of meaning.

“Never had a lesson like it,” said Fred.

“He knows, man,” said Lee.

Now I'm wondering if Fake-Eye Moody's secondary goal here was making the plot of The Wave happen.

 

[Gentlebastard]

There was a sudden rustling noise above them, and a hundred owls came soaring through the open windows carrying the morning mail.

I'm still waiting for "Harry Potter and The Mystery of Why Everyone In The Magical World Suffers From Chronic Psittacosis, Thank Merlin For The Added Magical Antibiotics In The Water Supply".

 

[TheAmbiguousLurker]

Just have Brian Michael Bendis torture them in a volcano for seven years so they can become the world's most boring bisexuals.

They'd use the Hyperbolic Time Chamber in the Room of Requirements, but Lockhart destroyed it.

Yeah, this year, Hagrid's just nuts.

Love how he blantantly just admits "I have no idea what the fuck these things I'm supposed to be teaching you about are. I wanna see if anything funny happens, and if it happens to Malfoy."

Imagine if I wasn't lazy and incompetent and shopped a picture of Rimmer with flaming red hair.

The way that's phrased makes it sound like they should've just let Moody go on a rampage and expose magic.

Just let the old man tucker himself out with his sentient dustbins.

“Well, I can certainly see why we’re trying to keep them alive,” said Malfoy sarcastically. “Who wouldn’t want pets that can burn, sting, and bite all at once?”

Malfoy says this like this isn't a legit question. If I'm gonna have a magical pet, I'm getting one that comes with three attacks already.

Arnold likes having something to hold on to.

 

[IridiumDragon06]

How do we think Draco's going to spit in the face of fairy tale Darwinism this year? Belly-flop onto a cursed spindle? Scoff an entire cursed apple pie? Tell a genie "surprise me"?

Honestly, I feel like going "Nah, I trust you, just do whatever wishes you want." is actually the mythically-correct answer for traditional genies, since the danger there was thinking (or being convinced to think) that their power was your own and getting ideas above your mortal station.

I'm guessing Sirius is still in Australia, busy banging women who look like if you cut into them they’d be skin-coloured and gummy-textured all the way through.

As opposed to...well put-together homunculus women? Look, I'm not from Australia, I can't speak to the construction of your female homunculi.

I still want to know where all these magical plants actually grow. I feel like they'd be harder to keep hidden from Muggles than the charismatic magical megafauna. At least dragons don't pop up in damp corners.

The conceit of these kind of books is always that This Could Be You and Your World, and yet, it doesn't take much prodding at all to reveal that world would have to be significantly different. Now, good stories lean into this, and show that the world was always different and the initial view they gave you to draw you in was carefully selected, not a false impression but a tailored one, but if you think the Muggle world sucks, never want to dramatically engage with it, and are happy with "Eh, basic magic makes them confused and forget and wizardly management is good enough to fill in the gaps.", well, there you go.

Based Hermione.

Backing up your friends, sure, based. Doing so by proclaiming something you know isn't true and admit the moment after, I dunno. I also like the idea of Hagrid stumbling into the world of Dredge and buying some eldritch shrimp.

Imagine if I wasn't lazy and incompetent and shopped a picture of Rimmer with flaming red hair.

Hey, you know what popular new online services are available that can make all kinds of shitpost edits for you?

Malfoy says this like this isn't a legit question. If I'm gonna have a magical pet, I'm getting one that comes with three attacks already.

Spoken like someone who's never had their level 1 wizard mauled to death by their housecat.

We as the reader are inclined to think this whole scene is quite funny (which it is) but McGonagall is right to think it's inappropriate. Moody is essentially torturing a fourteen-year-old boy, when there were surely other ways of handling this situation. It's even worse if you know how Rowling conceptualises Circle style animal transformation. According to Tales of Beedle the Bard, when a person is transformed by a spell into an animal (as opposed to under their own violation, like an Animagi) they do not retain their own mind. Until and unless they are returned to human form, they're essentially just animals. So, depending on how you look at it, Mad-Eye basically brought an animal into existence terrified and confused, then abused it for the misdeeds of a mostly unrelated entity. That's... kind of fucked.

I'm left wondering if, when Rowling reveals Mad-Eye's true identity and what he did, we the reader are supposed to look back on this incident with different eyes. Or maybe she just thinks Draco being turned into a ferret for being an arsehole is funny, which to be fair, it is. That's the fun thing about Rowling, she's both competent and thoughtful enough that this could be deliberately challenging the reader, and fallible enough this could just be indulgence.

I'm not inclined to take Rowling's Word of Authorial Intent here. The Vibes of the story so far clearly contradict this; transformations affecting the mind of the subject seem to be the exception, not the rule, and we can look at the old mouse into teacup practical exam to see that there is still a lot of mouse left in the teacup. Plus, as you say, if Draco just had a jump-cut and lost a minute or two of consciousness while his 5E-style wild shape got slapped around, that's not really effective discipline. (It also gives you a really easy out of actual petrification to store wizards you don't want to kill, which would mean that there's no dramatic necessity for Azkaban.)

 

[Honka Honka Burning Love]

Seamus is the heir of Slytherin, you heard it here first.

The real secret is that Parseltounge is not some secret snake language...Slytherin was just Welsh.

 

[Fun Factory]

Again, fanfic Draco would've at least countered that it was because she was surrounded by Weasleys.

This is one of the more humanising things about canon Draco, he's no full-fledged villain, he's really just a bit shit - he's the snobby rich-kid casual bully, but that's all, he doesn't bring any particular competence or intelligence to it. At its core he is simply another one of the kids in class, rather than a cartoonishly evil supervillain, and doesn't need to (to take an example from HPMOR) casually reveal his fiendish plan to sexually assault a young girl.

 

[Sleazy Car Salesman]

Anyway, the correct bottle to proceed is only enough for one person, and Harry will have to face Snape/Quirrell/Voldemort/Richard Griffith alone. Of course, the fact there's a dose at all implies the bottles magically refill, so if she really wanted Hermione could probably leave the room and come back, but whatever.

There also must be some kind of thing to keep Quirrel from just figuring out the puzzle and then rearranging the bottles to stop anyone coming in after him.

 

[White-Kettle Shufflepunk]

Honestly, I feel like going "Nah, I trust you, just do whatever wishes you want." is actually the mythically-correct answer for traditional genies, since the danger there was thinking (or being convinced to think) that their power was your own and getting ideas above your mortal station.

Point. Plus, most folkloric jinn are basically arabic fairies or elves anyway. Less cosmic vending machines and more "guys with superpowers who may do you a good or bad turn."

Hey, you know what popular new online services are available that can make all kinds of shitpost edits for you?

I stand by the old ways--baiting AmbiguousLurker into doing them for me.

(Great job!)

As opposed to...well put-together homunculus women? Look, I'm not from Australia, I can't speak to the construction of your female homunculi.

Please, Australian sex homunculi look way more human than Sydney women.

I'm not inclined to take Rowling's Word of Authorial Intent here. The Vibes of the story so far clearly contradict this; transformations affecting the mind of the subject seem to be the exception, not the rule, and we can look at the old mouse into teacup practical exam to see that there is still a lot of mouse left in the teacup. Plus, as you say, if Draco just had a jump-cut and lost a minute or two of consciousness while his 5E-style wild shape got slapped around, that's not really effective discipline. (It also gives you a really easy out of actual petrification to store wizards you don't want to kill, which would mean that there's no dramatic necessity for Azkaban.)

Or he spent a couple minutes in a state of blind animal panic. Also, I'm not sure the narrative point of Azkaban is to be like Magneto's plastic prison--that is, draconian, but justifiable as the only way of containing dark wizards. Most wizards, even very competent ones, are quite easy to hold once they're stripped of their wands. Horcruxes and such are in-universe quite rare. Hell, Grindelwald spent most of his life in a non Dementor staffed prison--one he built himself, no less--and he was someone Dumbledore could call a peer. I think Azkaban is more evidence of the wizarding world having a very... Victorian attitude towards human rights, or possibly being shit scared the Dementors will start raiding the mainland if they aren't fed.

The next two days passed without great incident, unless you counted Neville melting his sixth cauldron in Potions. Professor Snape, who seemed to have attained new levels of vindictiveness over the summer, gave Neville detention, and Neville returned from it in a state of nervous collapse, having been made to disembowel a barrel full of horned toads.

They were still alive, weren't they?

Snape is still seething about not getting the DADA job, he seems to be avoiding Moody, you know the drill. Ron does note however that Snape seems to be a bit frightened of Moody, rather than his usual mere sour disdain.

Anyway, it's time for our first DADA lesson!

“You can put those away,” he growled, stumping over to his desk and sitting down, “those books. You won’t need them.”

They returned the books to their bags, Ron looking excited.

"Should I put away my book?" asked Lockhart, copy of Bargaining With Barghests open in front of him.

"No," answered Moody with a touch of weariness. "You keep on reading, Gilderoy."

“Right then,” he said, when the last person had declared themselves present, “I’ve had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class.

Be kind to Gilderoy. He's not the man he once was.

Seems you’ve had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures — you’ve covered boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, is that right?”

There was a general murmur of assent.

“But you’re behind — very behind — on dealing with curses,” said Moody. “So I’m here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I’ve got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark—”

Jinxing Defense Against the Dark Arts really was Voldemort's best strategic move. I still think these should be two different classes.

“What, aren’t you staying?” Ron blurted out.

"You're also very behind on pattern recognition."

But no, Moody has no illusions of bucking the trend--he's here for a year as a favour for Dumbledore, and that's it.

“So — straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I’m supposed to teach you countercurses and leave it at that. I’m not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you’re in the sixth year. You’re not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But Professor Dumbledore’s got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you’re up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you’ve never seen? A wizard who’s about to put an illegal curse on you isn’t going to tell you what he’s about to do. He’s not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful.

I wonder if False-Eye Moody legitimately wanted to instill some basic combat grounding in potential future Death Eaters. That's the one downside of sabotaging your country's only school--that's also where you draw your recruits.

You need to put that away, Miss Brown, when I’m talking.”
Lavender jumped and blushed. She had been showing Parvati her completed horoscope under the desk. Apparently Moody’s magical eye could see through solid wood, as well as out of the back of his head.

Book Moody seems a lot less shouty than movie Moody.

“So … do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?”

Several hands rose tentatively into the air, including Ron’s and Hermione’s. Moody pointed at Ron, though his magical eye was still fixed on Lavender.

“Er,” said Ron tentatively, “my dad told me about one. … Is it called the Imperius Curse, or something?”

“Ah, yes,” said Moody appreciatively. “Your father would know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius Curse.”

Ron, knows exactly when backyard dragon breeding was banned, but not the three worst spells in the world.

Moody got heavily to his mismatched feet, opened his desk drawer, and took out a glass jar. Three large black spiders were scuttling around inside it. Harry felt Ron recoil slightly next to him — Ron hated spiders.

Harry meanwhile, was thrilled.

Moody reached into the jar, caught one of the spiders, and held it in the palm of his hand so that they could all see it. He then pointed his wand at it and muttered, “Imperio!”

The spider leapt from Moody’s hand on a fine thread of silk and began to swing backward and forward as though on a trapeze. It stretched out its legs rigidly, then did a back flip, breaking the thread and landing on the desk, where it began to cartwheel in circles. Moody jerked his wand, and the spider rose onto two of its hind legs and went into what was unmistakably a tap dance.

The kids naturally find this fucking hysterical (we can of course assume Harry is very perturbed, but the narrator doesn't mention it) but are quick to shut up when Moody points out he could just as easily do the same thing to them.

“Total control,” said Moody quietly as the spider balled itself up and began to roll over and over. “I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats …”

Ron gave an involuntary shudder.

Or worse. Notably, unlike the film, Moody doesn't actually make the spider kill itself here, which probably does make more sense when you're trying to pose as a good man. Also, notice "Moody" seems to find that this curse the most personally disturbing.

“Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse,” said Moody, and Harry knew he was talking about the days in which Voldemort had been all-powerful.

He decided what colour blue was.

"Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will.

“The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I’ll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone’s got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” he barked, and everyone jumped.

He said the thing! Incidentally, we do actually see people under the Imperius Curse later, and they don't exactly act normal.

Moody asks for another example of an illegal curse:

Hermione’s hand flew into the air again and so, to Harry’s slight surprise, did Neville’s. The only class in which Neville usually volunteered information was Herbology, which was easily his best subject. Neville looked surprised at his own daring.

“Yes?” said Moody, his magical eye rolling right over to fix on Neville.

“There’s one — the Cruciatus Curse,” said Neville in a small but distinct voice.

Neville: My gran taught me it!

“Your name’s Longbottom?” he said, his magical eye swooping down to check the register again.

Neville nodded nervously, but Moody made no further inquiries.

Barty Crouch Junior: I am so hard right now.

Turning back to the class at large, he reached into the jar for the next spider and placed it upon the desktop, where it remained motionless, apparently too scared to move.

“The Cruciatus Curse,” said Moody. “Needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea,” he said, pointing his wand at the spider. “Engorgio!”

He does need a little help, though. Hey, dude's been under the Imperius Curse for years.

Moody raised his wand again, pointed it at the spider, and muttered, “Crucio!”

At once, the spider’s legs bent in upon its body; it rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side. No sound came from it, but Harry was sure that if it could have given voice, it would have been screaming. Moody did not remove his wand, and the spider started to shudder and jerk more violently —

“Stop it!” Hermione said shrilly.

What a weird typo, mixing up Harry and Hermione's names like that.

“Pain,” said Moody softly. “You don’t need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse. … That one was very popular once too.

The Cruciatus Curse is probably the most straightforwardly, unambiguously "evil" of the three Unforgivable Curses, in that it's hard to imagine a justifiable use for "channel the power of raw hatred and sadism to inflict profound physical and spiritual pain" when you have spells like Stupefy or Expelliarmus, whereas I can imagine Imperio being used in hostage situations or to restrain dangerous individual people. I will say this, Crucio was a lot of fun to cast in Hogwarts Legacy. Then there's the third Unforgivable:

“Yes, the last and worst. Avada Kedavra … the Killing Curse.”

He put his hand into the glass jar, and almost as though it knew what was coming, the third spider scuttled frantically around the bottom of the jar, trying to evade Moody’s fingers, but he trapped it, and placed it upon the desktop. It started to scuttle frantically across the wooden surface.

Moody raised his wand, and Harry felt a sudden thrill of foreboding.

“Avada Kedavra!” Moody roared.

So, it's pretty obvious that, in-universe, Avada Kedavra filtered into Muggle mass consciousness in the form of "Abracadabra", probably the most famous magic words in the world. So, I guess the spell most Muggles were likely to encounter wasn't "double ham" or "pick up rock", but "you die now!" Doesn't speak well of ancient wizards, honestly.

There was a flash of blinding green light and a rushing sound, as though a vast, invisible something was soaring through the air — instantaneously the spider rolled over onto its back, unmarked, but unmistakably dead. Several of the students stifled cries; Ron had thrown himself backward and almost toppled off his seat as the spider skidded toward him.

Harry of course had tried to leap between Moody's wand and the poor spider, but he suffered an attack of slo-mo.

“Not nice,” he said calmly. “Not pleasant. And there’s no countercurse. There’s no blocking it.

Yeah, I don't like Avada Kedavra much, mostly because it's both the most boring way of magically killing someone, and so effective, it's hard to imagine anyone in an actual life-or-death fight using any other spell. I don't want wizard duels to be a quick draw contest, I want them to be telekinetically slamming each other into the ground, filling lungs with rose petals, and turning people into ants just long enough for them to see their boot coming down on their heads! I guess the matter-a-fact, no-nonsense nature of the spell does fit Voldemort's complete apathy towards human life, but I think it's a net negative for the second.

Another thing is how shockingly humane the spell is. It's instant, completely painless, and as far as we know, doesn't do any gnarly metaphysical shit like delete your soul or something. If it was real, Muslims would refuse to eat meat that was slaughtered using it. Yet, it's treated as the worst spell of all, which on the one hand does fit with Rowling treating murder as the highest sin, but it's not like the books themselves think lethal force is never justifiable. This isn't Steven Universe, or DC desperately trying to keep the Joker alive. I do wonder if Avada Kedavra would be treated differently if Rowling was from America, or some other country with looser gun laws and a stronger gun culture than the UK.

Only one known person has ever survived it, and he’s sitting right in front of me.”

Ron: Admittedly, I did cast it on myself, but I was aiming for Draco!

Nah, it's Harry.

“Avada Kedavra’s a curse that needs a powerful bit of magic behind it — you could all get your wands out now and point them at me and say the words, and I doubt I’d get so much asa nosebleed. But that doesn’t matter. I’m not here to teach you how to do it.

Ah, Rowling and her completely opaque magic.

Now … those three curses — Avada Kedavra, Imperius, and Cruciatus — are known as the Unforgivable Curses. The use of any one of them on a fellow human being is enough to earn a life sentence in Azkaban.

Except in Hogwarts Legacy, where you can throw them around in front of teachers and Aurors and nobody cares. Though, Cyril Woodwose might be why they were banned in the first place.

As I said, Rowling's good guy characters do not have a strict "no killing" policy, so it's kind of amusing to me that in the world of Harry Potter, it's legally more acceptable to cut someone's throat and let them bleed out than to painlessly kill an attacker. Also, I bet someone out there has argued that Avada Kedavra is technically a transfiguration spell: it turns alive people into dead people!

They spent the rest of the lesson taking notes on each of the Unforgivable Curses. No one spoke until the bell rang — but when Moody had dismissed them and they had left the classroom, a torrent of talk burst forth. Most people were discussing the curses in awed voices — “Did you see it twitch?” “— and when he killed it — just like that!”

They were talking about the lesson, Harry thought, as though it had been some sort of spectacular show, but he hadn’t found it very entertaining — and nor, it seemed, had Hermione.

Harry's a good boy.

Neville seems particularly haunted by the lesson.

“Neville, are you all right?” said Hermione.

“Oh yes, I’m fine,” Neville gabbled in the same unnaturally high voice. “Very interesting dinner — I mean lesson — what’s for eating?”

Ron gave Harry a startled look.

“Neville, what — ?”

But an odd clunking noise sounded behind them, and they turned to see Professor Moody limping toward them. All four of them fell silent, watching him apprehensively, but when he spoke, it was in a much lower and gentler growl than they had yet heard.

“It’s all right, sonny,” he said to Neville. “Why don’t you come up to my office? Come on … we can have a cup of tea. …”

Moody molesting Neville would actually be less dark in a way.

...Man, that might be the most French comment I've ever made in a thread. Feel free to take it out of context and destroy me.

Neville looked even more frightened at the prospect of tea with Moody. He neither moved nor spoke. Moody turned his magical eye upon Harry.

“You all right, are you, Potter?”

“Yes,” said Harry, almost defiantly.

Moody’s blue eye quivered slightly in its socket as it surveyed Harry. Then he said, “You’ve got to know. It seems harsh, maybe, but you’ve got to know. No point pretending … well … come on, Longbottom, I’ve got some books that might interest you.”

Moody: I have ordered them into a bullet point list of three or four, with a short paragraph about why I like each.

“Wouldn’t Moody and Dumbledore be in trouble with the Ministry if they knew we’d seen the curses?” Harry asked as they approached the Fat Lady.

“Yeah, probably,” said Ron. “But Dumbledore’s always done things his way, hasn’t he, and Moody’s been getting in trouble for years, I reckon. Attacks first and asks questions later — look at his dustbins. Balderdash.”

I feel like specifying that Ron was saying the Gryffindor password, not that he'd suddenly aged eighty years.

“Shall we get our Divination stuff, then?” said Harry.

“I s’pose,” Ron groaned.

They went up to the dormitory to fetch their books and charts, to find Neville there alone, sitting on his bed, reading. He looked a good deal calmer than at the end of Moody’s lesson, though still not entirely normal. His eyes were rather red.

“You all right, Neville?” Harry asked him.

“Oh yes,” said Neville, “I’m fine, thanks. Just reading this book Professor Moody lent me.
He held up the book: Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean.

Filthy, filthy book.

(Do you think moley is in there?)

“Apparently, Professor Sprout told Professor Moody I’m really good at Herbology,” Neville said. There was a faint note of pride in his voice that Harry had rarely heard there before. “He thought I’d like this.”

Telling Neville what Professor Sprout had said, Harry thought, had been a very tactful way of cheering Neville up, for Neville very rarely heard that he was good at anything. It was the sort of thing Professor Lupin would have done.

Either that or have Neville try the Cruciatus Curse on Snape.

Harry and Ron took their copies of Unfogging the Future back down to the common room, found a table, and set to work on their predictions for the coming month. An hour later, they had made very little progress, though their table was littered with bits of parchment bearing sums and symbols, and Harry’s brain was as fogged as though it had been filled with the fumes from Professor Trelawney’s fire.

Oh, now I see why Harry hasn't ditched Divination. Zoey Redbird does not approve, but then, she never approves of anything fun. The boys resort to just making it up, in those words:

“Next Monday,” he said as he scribbled, “I am likely to develop a cough, owing to the unlucky conjunction of Mars and Jupiter.” He looked up at Harry. “You know her — just put in loads of misery, she’ll lap it up.”

“Right,” said Harry, crumpling up his first attempt and lobbing it over the heads of a group of chattering first years into the fire. “Okay … on Monday, I will be in danger of — er — burns.”

“Yeah, you will be,” said Ron darkly, “we’re seeing the skrewts again on Monday. Okay, Tuesday, I’ll … erm …”

“Lose a treasured possession,” said Harry, who was flicking through Unfogging the Future for ideas.

Clearly the skrewts will set his Taschen edition of Martin Miggs on fire.

(I accidentally ordered the big oversized one they did for Fantastic Four. It's the size of a tombstone. They even have the letters pages and old ads, they're quite cool)

“Good one,” said Ron, copying it down. “Because of … erm … Mercury. Why don’t you get stabbed in the back by someone you thought was a friend?”

“Yeah … cool …” said Harry, scribbling it down, “because … Venus is in the twelfth house.”

Heh. Heh. Heh.

“And on Wednesday, I think I’ll come off worst in a fight.”

“Aaah, I was going to have a fight. Okay, I’ll lose a bet.”

“Yeah, you’ll be betting I’ll win my fight. …”

Ron: if Hermione would let me start one.

They continued to make up predictions (which grew steadily more tragic) for another hour, while the common room around them slowly emptied as people went up to bed.

Sadly, Archive of Our Own did not yet exist to post them on. There was fanfiction.net, but pfft.

Staring around the room, trying to think of a kind of misfortune he hadn’t yet used, Harry saw Fred and George sitting together against the opposite wall, heads together, quills out, poring over a single piece of parchment. It was most unusual to see Fred and George hidden away in a corner and working silently; they usually liked to be in the thick of things and the noisy center of attention. There was something secretive about the way they were working on the piece of parchment, and Harry was reminded of how they had sat together writing something back at the Burrow. He had thought then that it was another order form for Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, but it didn’t look like that this time; if it had been, they would surely have let Lee Jordan in on the joke. He wondered whether it had anything to do with entering the Triwizard Tournament.

Fred: What if one of us commits ritual suicide, transferring their age to the other?

George: Nah, clearly we merge ourselves into one being.

Fred and George had been gone ten minutes or so when the portrait hole opened and Hermione climbed into the common room carrying a sheaf of parchment in one hand and a box whose contents rattled as she walked in the other. Crookshanks arched his back, purring.

“Hello,” she said, “I’ve just finished!”

“So have I!” said Ron triumphantly, throwing down his quill.

Hermione sat down, laid the things she was carrying in an empty armchair, and pulled Ron’s predictions toward her.

“Not going to have a very good month, are you?” she said sardonically as Crookshanks curled up in her lap.

Ron: Yes I am, says right there, "Suicide Bomb Slytherin's common room."

“Ah well, at least I’m forewarned,” Ron yawned.

“You seem to be drowning twice,” said Hermione.

“Oh am I?” said Ron, peering down at his predictions. “I’d better change one of them to getting trampled by a rampaging hippogriff.”

Clearly Ron was resuscitated the first time, only to drown again when his bomb let the lake rush into the Slytherin common room.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit obvious you’ve made these up?” said Hermione.

“How dare you!” said Ron, in mock outrage. “We’ve been working like house-elves here!”

MICRO-AGGRESSION, HIT HIM!

What’s in the box?” he asked, pointing at it.

“Funny you should ask,” said Hermione, with a nasty look at Ron. She took off the lid and showed them the contents.

Inside were about fifty badges, all of different colors, but all bearing the same letters: S.P.E.W.

“ ‘Spew’?” said Harry, picking up a badge and looking at it. “What’s this about?”

“Not spew,” said Hermione impatiently. “It’s S-P-E-W. Stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare.”

Really couldn't come up with anything else, Hermione?

“S-P-E-W!” said Hermione hotly. “I was going to put Stop the Outrageous Abuse of Our Fellow Magical Creatures and Campaign for a Change in Their Legal Status — but it wouldn’t fit. So that’s the heading of our manifesto.”

She brandished the sheaf of parchment at them.

“I’ve been researching it thoroughly in the library. Elf enslavement goes back centuries. I can’t believe no one’s done anything about it before now.”

I wonder if wizards ever did like, human slavery. It is pretty much a universal across all cultures more complicated than "Amazon tribe." Plus, it's not like wizards lack an outgroup they can easily overpower...

“Hermione — open your ears,” said Ron loudly. “They. Like. It. They like being enslaved!”

Imagine reading this and assuming Rowling is making a point about black people.

Our short-term aims,” said Hermione, speaking even more loudly than Ron, and acting as though she hadn’t heard a word, “are to secure house-elves fair wages and working conditions. Our long-term aims include changing the law about non-wand use, and trying to get an elf into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, because they’re shockingly underrepresented.”

Man, Rowling really had the lingo down. Also, I like that Hermione wants to get an elf into government before emancipation. It's like if someone wanted to get a slave into the Confederate States Congress. Not a free black person, a straight up slave.

“And how do we do all this?” Harry asked.

“We start by recruiting members,” said Hermione happily. “I thought two Sickles to join — that buys a badge — and the proceeds can fund our leaflet campaign. You’re treasurer, Ron — I’ve got you a collecting tin upstairs — and Harry, you’re secretary, so you might want to write down everything I’m saying now, as a record of our first meeting.”

You can tell Hermione is an Anglo because her immediate response to injustice is to start an NGO and ask for money. Hermione's transformation into polymorph victim Rimmer is interrupted by Hedwig arriving with a letter from Sirius.

Harry —

I’m flying north immediately. This news about your scar is the latest in a series of strange rumors that have reached me here. If it hurts again, go straight to Dumbledore — they’re saying he’s got Mad-Eye out of retirement, which means he’s reading the signs, even if no one else is.

I’ll be in touch soon. My best to Ron and Hermione. Keep your eyes open, Harry.

Sirius

Quite curious what these strange rumours are. Like, who's Wormtail talking to about his master's evil scheme?

 

[Another Random]

Quite curious what these strange rumours are. Like, who's Wormtail talking to about his master's evil scheme?

Rats, obviously. It's not like Voldemort's pet snakeperson is going to manage to eat every single one he has to catch to feed her.

[Seriously, though, what was the point of making her a former human and former member of the good guys in those movies?]

 

[TheAmbiguousLurker]

I stand by the old ways--baiting AmbiguousLurker into doing them for me.

(Great job!)

Hey, respect the 'The'! I didn't creepily loiter around other people's social gatherings just to be treated like any old Ambiguous Lurker.

Ron does note however that Snape seems to be a bit frightened of Moody, rather than his usual mere sour disdain.

"He keeps doing this thing with his tongue, it makes him look like David Tenant and it creeps me out."

"Should I put away my book?" asked Lockhart, copy of Bargaining With Barghests open in front of him.

"No," answered Moody with a touch of weariness. "You keep on reading, Gilderoy."

It's funny that in this book it's "We don't need books." and the next one is "WE ONLY NEED BOOKS. GOVERNMENT APPROVED BOOKS."

Be kind to Gilderoy. He's not the man he once was.

And remember to feed him twice a day and take him out for walks.

I wonder if False-Eye Moody legitimately wanted to instill some basic combat grounding in potential future Death Eaters. That's the one downside of sabotaging your country's only school--that's also where you draw your recruits.

This is the equivalent of the mob boss who sets up a restaurant as a front for his dealings only to discover he actually really likes running a business.

Book Moody seems a lot less shouty than movie Moody.

Book Moody isn't trying to be David Tenant trying to be Brendan Gleeson.

I will say this, Crucio was a lot of fun to cast in Hogwarts Legacy.

Some teenager in the 1800's casually chaining avada kadavra together to one shot an entire encampment of enemies: "Death stick goes brrrrrr."

Another thing is how shockingly humane the spell is. It's instant, completely painless, and as far as we know, doesn't do any gnarly metaphysical shit like delete your soul or something. If it was real, Muslims would refuse to eat meat that was slaughtered using it. Yet, it's treated as the worst spell of all, which on the one hand does fit with Rowling treating murder as the highest sin, but it's not like the books themselves think lethal force is never justifiable. This isn't Steven Universe, or DC desperately trying to keep the Joker alive. I do wonder if Avada Kedavra would be treated differently if Rowling was from America, or some other country with looser gun laws and a stronger gun culture than the UK.

The case with a lot of 'evil magic' in fiction is rarely just the result and more the mindset that is required of a person in order to use them. Not the willingness to use it, but pure hatred and desire for violence that borders on sadistic or complete inhumane detachment. In the unforgivable curses' case, Harry will later attempt one of them, hopped up on anger and despair in the midst of one of the most traumatic moments in his life and staring down the one responsible. It doesn't work, because even at his lowest and most murderous, he still can't put himself in the state of mind the spell requires.

It's like, there's a difference between shooting someone with a normal gun and shooting them with a gun that can only be fired if you have an urge to drown a sack of puppies.

George: Nah, clearly we merge ourselves into one being.

"We just have to pray to Sylvan-"

Quite curious what these strange rumours are. Like, who's Wormtail talking to about his master's evil scheme?

I mean, we already got told last book that there are people loyal to Dumbledore following Voldemort's activities, so it's probably them.

“Not nice,” he said calmly. “Not pleasant. And there’s no countercurse. There’s no blocking it.

Literally anything solid between you and the curse blocks it.

Rats, obviously. It's not like Voldemort's pet snakeperson is going to manage to eat every single one he has to catch to feed her.

[Seriously, though, what was the point of making her a former human and former member of the good guys in those movies?]

Did you miss the part where you recognised the thing and clapped?

 

[IridiumDragon06]

I wonder if False-Eye Moody legitimately wanted to instill some basic combat grounding in potential future Death Eaters. That's the one downside of sabotaging your country's only school--that's also where you draw your recruits.

On one hand, I figure that Evil Aristocrat Homeschool is probably a good place to bone up on this stuff if you are not an utter tosser like Draco. On the other, based on the fact that the entire Ministry are Hogwarts graduates, I think we can say that no sabotage is necessary, and our friendly imposter is just leaning into What Mad-Eye Would Do. The best way to disguise yourself is to be so convincing that no one thinks to check, after all.

Man, Rowling really had the lingo down. Also, I like that Hermione wants to get an elf into government before emancipation. It's like if someone wanted to get a slave into the Confederate States Congress. Not a free black person, a straight up slave.

Yeah, every so often I go back, read some Kipling (specifically in this case, The Gods of the Copybook Headings), and get both consoled and concerned, because the bad ideas of our era are absolutely not original to our time, but also that they did not manage to destroy everything even when they gained ground before.

Hermione's transformation into polymorph victim Rimmer is interrupted by Hedwig arriving with a letter from Sirius.

I disagree with this assessment; Rimmer was better at acronyms.

It's like, there's a difference between shooting someone with a normal gun and shooting them with a gun that can only be fired if you have an urge to drown a sack of puppies.

...Isn't that a point in favor of AK, though? Like, you can kill someone with any number of just hostile magic hexes, and you not only don't need killing intent, you can do it literally accidentally. Isn't it better that someone knows AK than the slashy curse that comes up later, or Fiendfyre, or the like?

I also think that the killing intent bit is kind of made questionable by the fact that Moody, even impostor Moody, can do it on a spider. The effects don't seem to match either what we're told, or what the intent is, but, as is said, AK is also a kind of lame ultimate dark magic spell.

If I were writing it, I'd have made AK a cast from lifeforce spell, where it can be buffered by hatred and Dark corruption, but leaves scars on your soul; it's an "This will absolutely kill your target if you perform it correctly, but either you die, or are spiritually maimed, or have enough Dark built up in you that murder doesn't move the needle on who you are.", and then you've got a reason for it to be in a separate category than transforming them to air and letting them blow away. And you've got some additional set-up for Voldemort doing soul-fucky stuff. But we are way too deep to be complaining about individual spells at this point, even really important ones.

 

[Replacement Account]

Pointing out that Mad-Eye's eye can see through things, and then pointing out later that it was also still focusing on Lavender when the rest of the lesson is going on is kind of creepy when you think about it.

 

[Honka Honka Burning Love]

AK is also a kind of lame ultimate dark magic spell.

That reminds me of this.