For some reason, Harry found he did not want to look atIn the 10 chapters of the book that I've read so far, this is the most interesting passage to me. Rowling does, sometimes, take the time to do some more serious character development. I don't think she does it as well as any of the other fantastic names mentioned here (Tolkein, Lewis, L'Engle.... and the undersung Lloyd Alexander). And Byatt has a point that many of the conflicts within the Potter universe are just grudge matches, especially between Harry and Voldemort, and that the painted black "Pure Bloods" vs the painted white "Pure Hearts" is a little monotonous. But a little closer look reveals the conflict between those fascinated with Power and Pride vs those with humanity... including weakenesses of humanity, like some jealousy when someone else gets a public honor, or a spat between classmates.
Hermione. He turned to his bed, picked up the pile of clean robes Mrs Weasley had laid on it and crossed the room to his trunk.
'Harry?' said Hermione tentatively.
'Well done, Hermione,' said Harry, so heartily it did not sound like his voice at all, and, still not looking at her, 'brilliant. Prefect. Great.'
Thanks,' said Hermione. 'Erm - Harry - could I borrow Hedwig so I can tell Mum and Dad? They'll be really pleased - I mean prefect is something they can understand.'
'Yeah, no problem,' said Harry, still in the horrible hearty voice that did not belong to him. Take her!'
He leaned over his trunk, laid the robes on the bottom of it and pretended to be rummaging for something while Hermione crossed to the wardrobe and called Hedwig down. A few moments passed; Harry heard the door close but remained bent double, listening; the only sounds he could hear were the blank picture on the wall sniggering again and the wastepaper basket in the corner coughing up the owl droppings.
He straightened up and looked behind him. Hermione had left and Hedwig had gone. Harry hurried across the room, closed the door, then returned slowly to his bed and sank on to it, gazing unseeingly at the foot of the wardrobe.
He had forgotten completely about prefects being chosen in the fifth year. He had been too anxious about the possibility of being expelled to spare a thought for the fact that badges must be winging their way towards certain people. But if he had remembered ... if he had thought about it ... what would he have expected?
Not this, said a small and truthful voice inside his head.
Harry screwed up his face and buried it in his hands. He could not lie to himself; if he had known the prefect badge was on its way, he would have expected it to come to him, not Ron. Did this make him as arrogant as Draco Malfoy? Did he think himself superior to everyone else? Did he really believe he was better than Ron?
No, said the small voice defiantly.
Was that true? Harry wondered, anxiously probing his own feelings.
152 HARRY POTTER
I'm better at Quidditch, said the voice. But I'm not better at anything else.
That was definitely true, Harry thought; he was no better than Ron in lessons. But what about outside lessons? What about those adventures he, Ron and Hermione had had together since starting at Hogwarts, often risking much worse than expulsion?
Well, Ron and Hermione were with me most of the time, said the voice in Harry's head.
Not all the time, though, Harry argued with himself. They didn't fight Quirrell with me. They didn't take on Riddle and the Basilisk. They didn't get rid of all those Dementors the night Sirius escaped. They weren't in that graveyard with me, the night Voldemort returned ...
And the same feeling of ill-usage that had overwhelmed him on the night he had arrived rose again. I've definitely done more, Harry thought indignantly. I've done more than either of them!
But maybe, said the small voice fairly, maybe Dumbledore doesn't choose prefects because they've got themselves into a load of dangerous situations ... maybe he chooses them for other reasons ... Ron must have something you don't ...
Harry opened his eyes and stared through his fingers at the wardrobe's clawed feet, remembering what Fred had said: 'No one in their right mind would make Ron a prefect ...'
Harry gave a small snort of laughter. A second later he felt sickened with himself.
Ron had not asked Dumbledore to give him the prefect badge. This was not Ron's fault. Was he, Harry, Ron's best friend in the world, going to sulk because he didn't have a badge, laugh with the twins behind Ron's back, ruin this for Ron when, for the first time, he had beaten Harry at something?
At this point Harry heard Ron's footsteps on the stairs again. He stood up, straightened his glasses, and hitched a grin on to his face as Ron bounded back through the door.
'Just caught her!' he said happily. 'She says she'll get the Cleansweep if she can.'
'Cool,' Harry said, and he was relieved to hear that his voice had stopped sounding hearty. 'Listen - Ron - well done, mate.'
"I find the anxiety level of Order of the Phoenix to be startlingly in synch with the mood of the day. I suppose one could argue—as Young does—that children's literature has a mandate to be more escapist. But I think it also owes us a bit of catharsis. There is something healthy about seeing our worst fears realized (for a time). And Voldemort—the "mudblood" aligned with the "purebloods" in a war against mudbloods and Muggles alike—makes a haunting antagonist in an age of escalating illiberalism."posted by arco at 2:24 PM on July 8, 2003
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Further comments here (self-link).
posted by Artifice_Eternity at 3:50 PM on July 7, 2003