HBP Read-Through: Chapter Fourteen, "Felix Felicis"
I have a confession. I chose to analyze this chapter mainly because I was getting sick of post-HBP discussion (which is here a euphemism for debate). I felt, at the time I signed up, that I really needed a break from thinking about Horcruxes, Snape, dead-without-a-doubt-Dumbledore, and all the rest. Going back to "Felix," I'm glad, grateful, and amazed at my luck at choosing this chapter, but emphatically NOT for the reason outlined above. What I think I love most about this chapter is its absolute Trio-centricness (to some extent, when I say "trio," I include Ginny in the term). It revels in these no-longer-children. The focus is on their relationships with one another, on how well they know (and can manipulate!) each other, and really gives a remarkably clear picture of who they are, and of what motives them. It also gives them a real chance to be teenagers; the only active concerns and problems they face within these pages are mundane and surmountable ones. More than that, it's a chapter in which the characters' social defenses tend to be down.
(And let me, further, say that I LOVE RON, and have an extremely low tolerance for people beating up on him, even if he is a total prat in this chapter).
This chapter is immaculately constructed, narratively. It could easily be excerpted from the novel, and commendably stands alone on its own merits. Of course it connects, intricately, to the novel that contains it: it's the first time Harry encounters a Polyjuiced Crabbe-or-Goyle, for one, but most-if not all-of the chapter's action (as it interacts with the book's overarching plot) occurs "backstage," or even offstage. And "plot" is certainly an appropriate word to use here. Malfoy's visits to the Room of Requirement don't even begin to cover the mechanisms at work.
First and foremost: the eponymous trick that Harry pulls on both Ron and Hermione. This serves as one of several moments in the chapter where Jo actively constructs a scenario in which Hermione's reaction is placed in conflict against Ron's; in fact, the chapter opens with just such a set of paired responses, to Harry's informing them of the content of his lessons with Dumbledore: Ron's "scary" and Hermione's "fascinating."
Harry's "use" of the lucky potion in this chapter can be argued to demonstrate many things about him, but the one that speaks most loudly to me is how much it reveals how very well he knows his two best friends. He knows that Hermione, despite her own penchant for frequent and unrepentant rule-breaking (I wrote an essay on this over on mugglenet), cannot tolerate such transgressions in others. He knows that Ron, despite his unyielding determination to distinguish himself by making his own mark, has no qualms about skating by on accomplishments that are only questionably his own, or at any rate, and perhaps more honestly, doesn't really bother trying to extend himself, because he's so convinced that nothing he tries will turn out well enough to worth the effort. Harry knows what makes them each angry, and how to play each of them off the other to produce a desired effect. This chapter proved to me that Harry isn't nearly as dumb, self-contained, or as socially unobservant as I had previously pegged him (he spends a lot of time in this chapter watching people very closely, as the reader is almost-constantly reminded). We also radically hurdle the standard Harry-filter here, and receive direct, and almost unprecedented, access to Harry's thoughts and thought-processes. It's a testament to Harry's newfound sensitivity that he immediately recognizes when Ron's moment of need is past, and that, by the chapter's end, Hermione is now the one who really needs him to be there.
Hermione, typically, is a master of manipulation. From accepting blame for the Troll Incident to obtaining the book (via Lockhart) and ingredients for Polyjuice Potion, to Rita Skeeter and Dolores Umbridge, her modus operandi is one of cool and rational manipulation of others; Trelawney is the only tenured professor whom she has not bamboozled in some manner, and the reason for that is simply a lack of patience combined with the fact that she views the Divination teacher as having nothing useful for her. In this chapter, however, she lets her guard down (and not for the first time), and the raw emotion she displays throughout much of the novel has given rise to the erroneous belief that she is, in Half Blood Prince, somehow "out of character." Where Goblet of Fire was the big book of Ron's jealousy, The Half Blood Prince serves as Hermione's (incidentally, fulfilling a prediction I made months ago). And, rather than step on the toes of forthcoming writeups, I will simply say (without admitting that almost-panicky bursts of unrestrained and brutal emotionality are in any way un-Hermione-like) that after the first shock of seeing that Ron-and-Lavender octopus, she copes with this jealously in an incredibly traditional Hermione-like way.
This segues nicely into the R/Hr 'shippy goodness of this chapter (another reason it's one of my favorites). Hermione going "a bright, boiling scarlet," and Ron's "completely different…very quiet voice" can hardly be expounded on; they speak more than adequately for themselves (I will add that my throat and stomach tend to go a bit wiggly there, though). In many ways, it's as much Hermione's chapter as it is Ron's, even if Harry's overriding preoccupation is with his favorite Weasley(s). She's in fine form as we start out, conniving to induce Ron to accompany her to Slughorn's Christmas party. And it should have worked-strike that-it was working. Phase One of her plan was to piss Ron off; this is usually an excellent strategy, as their post-Yule Ball bickering evidenced. Then, once he's pre-heated, so to speak, she twists the situation around by confessing that she had planned on inviting him. She doesn't specify in what capacity he is to accompany her at this time of course; she needs to wait, and to observe his reactions. And he's very kind to her for the next several days, until suddenly, with no obvious provocation, he simply turns on her. She knows nothing about how Quidditch practices have been coming along, or his argument with his sister, just that after their conversation in the greenhouse and those lovely days of getting along so well, he's suddenly cold-shouldering her. It can't have escaped her notice that he's being rotten to everyone, but he makes his disgust with her obvious. And she sees no obvious cause for this-could it be about the party? Was she wrong about him? She is nervous around this touchy-Ron, nervous even to inquire how he's feeling just before the first Quidditch game of the year. Of course, Harry baiting her with that little gold bottle, and both of her attempts to confront the boys on her suspicions do nothing to help the situation. And while Harry was depending on her to respond exactly as she did, Ron's reaction was not intended.
Ron actually comes into his own a lot in this chapter, and not simply in his experience with girls; he becomes a bit of an enigma here, the dependable techniques of provoking him in order to manipulate into action him now tend to backfire. Of course, Ginny was not trying to provoke Ron in the corridor; it's quite impressive that she managed to get him even more upset than the initial situation did, to the point where he actually attempts to hex her. She has her own nasty Weasley TemperTM, and simply gave it full rein, with the unfortunate side-effect of exploiting to the fullest Ron's own perceived, all-pervading-and utterly false-sense of his own inferiority. And, additionally, and even more harmfully, succeeds in alienating him very effectively from his two best friends; it seems ridiculous to go ahead and point out, Hermione in particular. She simply wanted him to back off her; she was obviously embarrassed (and Weasleys tend to be quite prone to, um, embarrassing, displays of embarrassment; Harry's presence, no doubt, did not help here), and it was firmly established way back in Chapter Six that she has a particularly low tolerance for, and heightened sensitivity to, her brothers' opinions on her love life.
So we have raw-Ron, misdirecting targetless anger, feeding on itself, bound-and-determined to make everyone around him as miserable as he is. Hermione bears the brunt of this punishment, as he can hardly blame Harry for kissing Cho. Her accusations of Felix were even more hurtful following the she-kissed-international-Quidditch-sensation-Krum revelation, especially in light of the fact that (except for his one missed save) she missed entirely his "perfect game" of the previous year, that his when-he-is-good-he-is-very-very-good performances on the Quidditch pitch are one of the few worthwhile things he feels he can offer her. Ron has a whole lot to prove now, to both Ginny and to Hermione, and Lavender is, I think, convenient more than anything, on both fronts. And while he's so busy trying to hurt his sister and best friend, it doesn't really occur to him (or anyone, really, for that matter) that Lavender's going to be hurt as well.
(And let me, further, say that I LOVE RON, and have an extremely low tolerance for people beating up on him, even if he is a total prat in this chapter).
This chapter is immaculately constructed, narratively. It could easily be excerpted from the novel, and commendably stands alone on its own merits. Of course it connects, intricately, to the novel that contains it: it's the first time Harry encounters a Polyjuiced Crabbe-or-Goyle, for one, but most-if not all-of the chapter's action (as it interacts with the book's overarching plot) occurs "backstage," or even offstage. And "plot" is certainly an appropriate word to use here. Malfoy's visits to the Room of Requirement don't even begin to cover the mechanisms at work.
First and foremost: the eponymous trick that Harry pulls on both Ron and Hermione. This serves as one of several moments in the chapter where Jo actively constructs a scenario in which Hermione's reaction is placed in conflict against Ron's; in fact, the chapter opens with just such a set of paired responses, to Harry's informing them of the content of his lessons with Dumbledore: Ron's "scary" and Hermione's "fascinating."
Harry's "use" of the lucky potion in this chapter can be argued to demonstrate many things about him, but the one that speaks most loudly to me is how much it reveals how very well he knows his two best friends. He knows that Hermione, despite her own penchant for frequent and unrepentant rule-breaking (I wrote an essay on this over on mugglenet), cannot tolerate such transgressions in others. He knows that Ron, despite his unyielding determination to distinguish himself by making his own mark, has no qualms about skating by on accomplishments that are only questionably his own, or at any rate, and perhaps more honestly, doesn't really bother trying to extend himself, because he's so convinced that nothing he tries will turn out well enough to worth the effort. Harry knows what makes them each angry, and how to play each of them off the other to produce a desired effect. This chapter proved to me that Harry isn't nearly as dumb, self-contained, or as socially unobservant as I had previously pegged him (he spends a lot of time in this chapter watching people very closely, as the reader is almost-constantly reminded). We also radically hurdle the standard Harry-filter here, and receive direct, and almost unprecedented, access to Harry's thoughts and thought-processes. It's a testament to Harry's newfound sensitivity that he immediately recognizes when Ron's moment of need is past, and that, by the chapter's end, Hermione is now the one who really needs him to be there.
Hermione, typically, is a master of manipulation. From accepting blame for the Troll Incident to obtaining the book (via Lockhart) and ingredients for Polyjuice Potion, to Rita Skeeter and Dolores Umbridge, her modus operandi is one of cool and rational manipulation of others; Trelawney is the only tenured professor whom she has not bamboozled in some manner, and the reason for that is simply a lack of patience combined with the fact that she views the Divination teacher as having nothing useful for her. In this chapter, however, she lets her guard down (and not for the first time), and the raw emotion she displays throughout much of the novel has given rise to the erroneous belief that she is, in Half Blood Prince, somehow "out of character." Where Goblet of Fire was the big book of Ron's jealousy, The Half Blood Prince serves as Hermione's (incidentally, fulfilling a prediction I made months ago). And, rather than step on the toes of forthcoming writeups, I will simply say (without admitting that almost-panicky bursts of unrestrained and brutal emotionality are in any way un-Hermione-like) that after the first shock of seeing that Ron-and-Lavender octopus, she copes with this jealously in an incredibly traditional Hermione-like way.
This segues nicely into the R/Hr 'shippy goodness of this chapter (another reason it's one of my favorites). Hermione going "a bright, boiling scarlet," and Ron's "completely different…very quiet voice" can hardly be expounded on; they speak more than adequately for themselves (I will add that my throat and stomach tend to go a bit wiggly there, though). In many ways, it's as much Hermione's chapter as it is Ron's, even if Harry's overriding preoccupation is with his favorite Weasley(s). She's in fine form as we start out, conniving to induce Ron to accompany her to Slughorn's Christmas party. And it should have worked-strike that-it was working. Phase One of her plan was to piss Ron off; this is usually an excellent strategy, as their post-Yule Ball bickering evidenced. Then, once he's pre-heated, so to speak, she twists the situation around by confessing that she had planned on inviting him. She doesn't specify in what capacity he is to accompany her at this time of course; she needs to wait, and to observe his reactions. And he's very kind to her for the next several days, until suddenly, with no obvious provocation, he simply turns on her. She knows nothing about how Quidditch practices have been coming along, or his argument with his sister, just that after their conversation in the greenhouse and those lovely days of getting along so well, he's suddenly cold-shouldering her. It can't have escaped her notice that he's being rotten to everyone, but he makes his disgust with her obvious. And she sees no obvious cause for this-could it be about the party? Was she wrong about him? She is nervous around this touchy-Ron, nervous even to inquire how he's feeling just before the first Quidditch game of the year. Of course, Harry baiting her with that little gold bottle, and both of her attempts to confront the boys on her suspicions do nothing to help the situation. And while Harry was depending on her to respond exactly as she did, Ron's reaction was not intended.
Ron actually comes into his own a lot in this chapter, and not simply in his experience with girls; he becomes a bit of an enigma here, the dependable techniques of provoking him in order to manipulate into action him now tend to backfire. Of course, Ginny was not trying to provoke Ron in the corridor; it's quite impressive that she managed to get him even more upset than the initial situation did, to the point where he actually attempts to hex her. She has her own nasty Weasley TemperTM, and simply gave it full rein, with the unfortunate side-effect of exploiting to the fullest Ron's own perceived, all-pervading-and utterly false-sense of his own inferiority. And, additionally, and even more harmfully, succeeds in alienating him very effectively from his two best friends; it seems ridiculous to go ahead and point out, Hermione in particular. She simply wanted him to back off her; she was obviously embarrassed (and Weasleys tend to be quite prone to, um, embarrassing, displays of embarrassment; Harry's presence, no doubt, did not help here), and it was firmly established way back in Chapter Six that she has a particularly low tolerance for, and heightened sensitivity to, her brothers' opinions on her love life.
So we have raw-Ron, misdirecting targetless anger, feeding on itself, bound-and-determined to make everyone around him as miserable as he is. Hermione bears the brunt of this punishment, as he can hardly blame Harry for kissing Cho. Her accusations of Felix were even more hurtful following the she-kissed-international-Quidditch-sensation-Krum revelation, especially in light of the fact that (except for his one missed save) she missed entirely his "perfect game" of the previous year, that his when-he-is-good-he-is-very-very-good performances on the Quidditch pitch are one of the few worthwhile things he feels he can offer her. Ron has a whole lot to prove now, to both Ginny and to Hermione, and Lavender is, I think, convenient more than anything, on both fronts. And while he's so busy trying to hurt his sister and best friend, it doesn't really occur to him (or anyone, really, for that matter) that Lavender's going to be hurt as well.