Seven Trials, One Endgame -- Checkmate
Chapter 16, "Through the Trapdoor." There's so much to say about this I hardly know where to start. So when in doubt, ask a Doctor. In his immortal words:
We open with exam time, and Harry in full Armageddon mode. For the first time we’re really treated to the frustration of having Harry trapped in one kind of story, an adventure-fantasy-bildungsroman, while everyone around him is in Tom Brown’s Schooldays. I love that even Ron and Hermione yawn and say, “You’ve got a scar burning on your forehead? Gosh, that’s weird, why don’t you see the nurse? Maybe you’re just wigging out over the Transfiguration final?”
Now, the scar. Interesting that what seems to set it off is the confrontation in the Forbidden Forest. This doesn’t exactly hold with the mechanics of the scar as established in Goblet of Fire and Order of the Phoenix, where the scar only hurts in Voldemort’s presence, physical or mental. Technically Harry has been in Voldemort’s presence all through first year, but the scar only flares up when Harry knows Voldemort’s out and about. I like that Harry interprets it as a warning, like it’s his bum knee that aches when a thunderstorm’s on the horizon. But burning scar as alarm bell is as good an explanation as any other - and let’s be honest now, has Dumbledore ever given him a better explanation? Not yet… But the fact remains that the scar seems to be performing some kind of service in Sorcerer’s Stone quite different from its later function. We’ll talk more about this next chapter.
So Harry remembers a key detail from the seemingly tangential Norbert chapter, and cracks the puzzle - it’s always such a blissful moment in Harry Potter when (most of) the truth is made plain, and this moment of Harry charging into Hagrid’s cabin and then charging right back out again is pretty electrifying; from here on in, the plot is charging right off the rails, and the poor reader’s hands are compelled to keep turning pages way past her bedtime. Finally Harry and company feel they have enough evidence to report Snape - though really it’s still all heresay, but okay - and of course, Dumbledore has vamoosed, and the kids are left with McGonagall, who doesn’t take them seriously because they are eleven. Big mistake, McGonagall. Just as Neville was included in the first adventure but flunked his admissions test, McGonagall gets her big chance to prove herself as the Trio’s confidante, and she fails. See if the kids ever come back to her again.
And so it’s time for our heroes to take matters into their own hands. I love the scene where Harry resolves to go after the Stone himself. Hermione clings to the last shreds of Tom Brown’s Schooldays, but Harry launches into that fabulous, prescient tirade about how Voldemort’s return will render everything she knows and cares about completely obsolete. Harry’s never done a tirade like this before, and he scares Hermione half to death; clearly this side of him is one she never knew existed. I am intrigued by this dynamic, and it comes back again and again. Harry frightens Hermione; there’s something about his rage that’s surprisingly intense and off-kilter. When Ron loses his temper, Hermione just loses hers right back at him, but she never knows how to deal with Harry; when he’s in full screaming mode, she tends to back down. Here he’s right, so it’s okay - later he will be less right.
Neville - he bravely stands up for Gryffindor, but because he’s missing out on some key pieces of information, he just gets shot right back down. Later, when he’s better briefed, he’ll be a great ally. This is a lovely little scene, because I find myself really believing in Neville, and being a little fed up with the Trio for being so exclusive - and after this moment of confrontation, Neville won’t provide the Trio with any kind of help or advice for many books. But Body-Binding Neville really does help to raise the stakes even more, to prove just how far Harry, Ron, and Hermione are willing to go for the good of the school, for the sake of the world.
Huge props to Harry fooling Peeves by pretending to be the Bloody Baron. I love Harry’s brilliant, impromptu tale-telling. Sometimes he gets it right; sometimes it goes so wrong it’s fricking fantastic (i.e. his claim that his nickname is “Roonil Waslib” in Half-Blood Prince).
And then they reach the out-of-bounds corridor, and Harry offers his friends one final opportunity to turn back. And you know these are some amazing friends, because they shrug this off like it is absolutely nothing. I never paid much attention to this moment until Hermione issued a callback to it during the parallel moment in Half-Blood Prince, when Harry states his intentions to do something brave, stupid, and necessary, and Ron and Hermione state their intentions right back. I quote Hermione, because she has never been lovelier: “You said to us once before that there was time to turn back if we wanted to. We’ve had time, haven’t we?” Awww, that’s sweet.
And then we get down to business, as the kids literally topple through the trapdoor and into the unknown. This is a beautifully constructed set of trials, designed to at once allow both Ron and Hermione a time to shine, while also eliminating them from the final challenge. In particular, I adore Ron’s take-charge confidence on the chessboard (“I’m going to be a knight” - how very apt.) and Hermione remembering that Devil’s Snare hates fire, but forgetting all about magic in the process. She has trouble putting all that book-learnin’ into practice, especially under immense pressure - her lack of confidence in this area is part of what motivates her “You’re a great wizard, you know” speech at chapter’s end. Hermione and Harry are interesting, because I think each of them believes that the other is the more accomplished wizard, and there’s all this mutual respect; it’s quite sweet that they each have qualities that the other admires and desires.
Now take note, gentle reader: there are seven trials and enchantments protecting the Sorcerer’s Stone: Fluffy (Hagrid), Devil’s Snare (Sprout), Keys (Flitwick), Chessboard (McGonagall), Troll (Quirrell), Potions (Snape), and the Mirror of Erised (Dumbledore). They each require a different skill, and in every case it’s a skill that the professor in question values most: Hagrid admires people who are good with animals, Spout digs the plant knowledge, Flitwick goes for teamwork, McGonagall appreciates strategy and sacrifice, Quirrell appears to like brute force, Snape loves him some cunning logic, and Dumbledore cuts to the quick and requires only purity of heart. Now, there are those fans who like to spin theories out of this chapter with its evocative seven trials. Seven trials for seven books is a popular one, in which each trial corresponds to a book in the series. Clever idea, if only it actually made sense. Hagrid is certainly very important to Book 1, introducing Harry to the wizarding world and all. Sprout provides the Mandrakes in Book 2 (hardly the most important thing in the world, but go with it). Flitwick is the Charms Professor, and the Fidelius Charm is of extreme importance to Book 3 (yeah, the charm probably wasn’t cast by Flitwick, but whatever). Book 4 was certainly a chess game, but I believe the good guys kind of lost that one. Book 5 is apparently equivalent to an unconscious, horrible-smelling troll - I’m not even gonna touch that one, other than to admit that Book 5 has a lot of detractors. Book 6 is easy; it's all about Snape and his games - it looks like it should fit, but doesn’t Snape actually lose the game in HBP? (It’s called "Spinner’s End" for a reason…) And this leaves Book 7 as the Dumbledore’s Endgame book, and also the Heart’s Desire book, and also the Meeting with Voldemort book. All makes sense there, I’ll give it that. The rest, however, doesn’t fit quite so perfectly. Cute theory though.
The other even more popular and pervasive theory is the chess game metaphor, that the entire series is played out in Ron’s chess game. I’d say this was genius, except it almost certainly implies that Ron will have to die at the climax of Book 7. But nonetheless, the first loss for the goodies is when the white queen (Bellatrix Lestrange) takes the (Sirius) black knight, the one not controlled by Ron. Okay, score one for the theory. Then Hermione takes a bishop (?) and Ron sacrifices himself so Harry can checkmate the king. Perhaps Ron’s piece actually equals Dumbledore? But then that would make Snape the white queen (Snape’d love that one) which doesn’t work anyway, because we needed the white queen to be Bellatrix for the theory to make sense in the first place. Hmmm.
Well, that was a productive exercise. The point that I’m trying to make is that tempting as it is to give J.K. Rowling this much credit, to actually believe she hid her entire plot in this chapter is a very silly thing to do. But part of being a Potter fan is to come up with nutty theories, so kudos to you, fans. Those are some nutty theories. Not nearly as convincing as Harry is a Horcrux, but nobody’s perfect.
Still 131 days to go!
We open with exam time, and Harry in full Armageddon mode. For the first time we’re really treated to the frustration of having Harry trapped in one kind of story, an adventure-fantasy-bildungsroman, while everyone around him is in Tom Brown’s Schooldays. I love that even Ron and Hermione yawn and say, “You’ve got a scar burning on your forehead? Gosh, that’s weird, why don’t you see the nurse? Maybe you’re just wigging out over the Transfiguration final?”
Now, the scar. Interesting that what seems to set it off is the confrontation in the Forbidden Forest. This doesn’t exactly hold with the mechanics of the scar as established in Goblet of Fire and Order of the Phoenix, where the scar only hurts in Voldemort’s presence, physical or mental. Technically Harry has been in Voldemort’s presence all through first year, but the scar only flares up when Harry knows Voldemort’s out and about. I like that Harry interprets it as a warning, like it’s his bum knee that aches when a thunderstorm’s on the horizon. But burning scar as alarm bell is as good an explanation as any other - and let’s be honest now, has Dumbledore ever given him a better explanation? Not yet… But the fact remains that the scar seems to be performing some kind of service in Sorcerer’s Stone quite different from its later function. We’ll talk more about this next chapter.
So Harry remembers a key detail from the seemingly tangential Norbert chapter, and cracks the puzzle - it’s always such a blissful moment in Harry Potter when (most of) the truth is made plain, and this moment of Harry charging into Hagrid’s cabin and then charging right back out again is pretty electrifying; from here on in, the plot is charging right off the rails, and the poor reader’s hands are compelled to keep turning pages way past her bedtime. Finally Harry and company feel they have enough evidence to report Snape - though really it’s still all heresay, but okay - and of course, Dumbledore has vamoosed, and the kids are left with McGonagall, who doesn’t take them seriously because they are eleven. Big mistake, McGonagall. Just as Neville was included in the first adventure but flunked his admissions test, McGonagall gets her big chance to prove herself as the Trio’s confidante, and she fails. See if the kids ever come back to her again.
And so it’s time for our heroes to take matters into their own hands. I love the scene where Harry resolves to go after the Stone himself. Hermione clings to the last shreds of Tom Brown’s Schooldays, but Harry launches into that fabulous, prescient tirade about how Voldemort’s return will render everything she knows and cares about completely obsolete. Harry’s never done a tirade like this before, and he scares Hermione half to death; clearly this side of him is one she never knew existed. I am intrigued by this dynamic, and it comes back again and again. Harry frightens Hermione; there’s something about his rage that’s surprisingly intense and off-kilter. When Ron loses his temper, Hermione just loses hers right back at him, but she never knows how to deal with Harry; when he’s in full screaming mode, she tends to back down. Here he’s right, so it’s okay - later he will be less right.
Neville - he bravely stands up for Gryffindor, but because he’s missing out on some key pieces of information, he just gets shot right back down. Later, when he’s better briefed, he’ll be a great ally. This is a lovely little scene, because I find myself really believing in Neville, and being a little fed up with the Trio for being so exclusive - and after this moment of confrontation, Neville won’t provide the Trio with any kind of help or advice for many books. But Body-Binding Neville really does help to raise the stakes even more, to prove just how far Harry, Ron, and Hermione are willing to go for the good of the school, for the sake of the world.
Huge props to Harry fooling Peeves by pretending to be the Bloody Baron. I love Harry’s brilliant, impromptu tale-telling. Sometimes he gets it right; sometimes it goes so wrong it’s fricking fantastic (i.e. his claim that his nickname is “Roonil Waslib” in Half-Blood Prince).
And then they reach the out-of-bounds corridor, and Harry offers his friends one final opportunity to turn back. And you know these are some amazing friends, because they shrug this off like it is absolutely nothing. I never paid much attention to this moment until Hermione issued a callback to it during the parallel moment in Half-Blood Prince, when Harry states his intentions to do something brave, stupid, and necessary, and Ron and Hermione state their intentions right back. I quote Hermione, because she has never been lovelier: “You said to us once before that there was time to turn back if we wanted to. We’ve had time, haven’t we?” Awww, that’s sweet.
And then we get down to business, as the kids literally topple through the trapdoor and into the unknown. This is a beautifully constructed set of trials, designed to at once allow both Ron and Hermione a time to shine, while also eliminating them from the final challenge. In particular, I adore Ron’s take-charge confidence on the chessboard (“I’m going to be a knight” - how very apt.) and Hermione remembering that Devil’s Snare hates fire, but forgetting all about magic in the process. She has trouble putting all that book-learnin’ into practice, especially under immense pressure - her lack of confidence in this area is part of what motivates her “You’re a great wizard, you know” speech at chapter’s end. Hermione and Harry are interesting, because I think each of them believes that the other is the more accomplished wizard, and there’s all this mutual respect; it’s quite sweet that they each have qualities that the other admires and desires.
Now take note, gentle reader: there are seven trials and enchantments protecting the Sorcerer’s Stone: Fluffy (Hagrid), Devil’s Snare (Sprout), Keys (Flitwick), Chessboard (McGonagall), Troll (Quirrell), Potions (Snape), and the Mirror of Erised (Dumbledore). They each require a different skill, and in every case it’s a skill that the professor in question values most: Hagrid admires people who are good with animals, Spout digs the plant knowledge, Flitwick goes for teamwork, McGonagall appreciates strategy and sacrifice, Quirrell appears to like brute force, Snape loves him some cunning logic, and Dumbledore cuts to the quick and requires only purity of heart. Now, there are those fans who like to spin theories out of this chapter with its evocative seven trials. Seven trials for seven books is a popular one, in which each trial corresponds to a book in the series. Clever idea, if only it actually made sense. Hagrid is certainly very important to Book 1, introducing Harry to the wizarding world and all. Sprout provides the Mandrakes in Book 2 (hardly the most important thing in the world, but go with it). Flitwick is the Charms Professor, and the Fidelius Charm is of extreme importance to Book 3 (yeah, the charm probably wasn’t cast by Flitwick, but whatever). Book 4 was certainly a chess game, but I believe the good guys kind of lost that one. Book 5 is apparently equivalent to an unconscious, horrible-smelling troll - I’m not even gonna touch that one, other than to admit that Book 5 has a lot of detractors. Book 6 is easy; it's all about Snape and his games - it looks like it should fit, but doesn’t Snape actually lose the game in HBP? (It’s called "Spinner’s End" for a reason…) And this leaves Book 7 as the Dumbledore’s Endgame book, and also the Heart’s Desire book, and also the Meeting with Voldemort book. All makes sense there, I’ll give it that. The rest, however, doesn’t fit quite so perfectly. Cute theory though.
The other even more popular and pervasive theory is the chess game metaphor, that the entire series is played out in Ron’s chess game. I’d say this was genius, except it almost certainly implies that Ron will have to die at the climax of Book 7. But nonetheless, the first loss for the goodies is when the white queen (Bellatrix Lestrange) takes the (Sirius) black knight, the one not controlled by Ron. Okay, score one for the theory. Then Hermione takes a bishop (?) and Ron sacrifices himself so Harry can checkmate the king. Perhaps Ron’s piece actually equals Dumbledore? But then that would make Snape the white queen (Snape’d love that one) which doesn’t work anyway, because we needed the white queen to be Bellatrix for the theory to make sense in the first place. Hmmm.
Well, that was a productive exercise. The point that I’m trying to make is that tempting as it is to give J.K. Rowling this much credit, to actually believe she hid her entire plot in this chapter is a very silly thing to do. But part of being a Potter fan is to come up with nutty theories, so kudos to you, fans. Those are some nutty theories. Not nearly as convincing as Harry is a Horcrux, but nobody’s perfect.
Still 131 days to go!