Author: Harry Potter Virgin

Sorry you died Cedric, but really…

Posted on by Harry Potter Virgin

I’m sorry that you died Cedric. Honestly. I didn’t see that coming at all and I suspect neither did you.

But, really dude? Harry has like 5 seconds to commune with an assemblage of the dead that include his parents and you take up 3 of them to make sure your beefy bod makes its way back to Hogwarts?

TBH, I think that was a pretty lame move bro.

More importantly, why are you are giving my friend Harry Potter one more dumb thing to worry about as he is running for his life through a graveyard, dodging the curses of a couple dozen death eaters?

Is it perhaps because you want a proper burial in the Judeo-Christian tradition? Hello? Need I remind you that you practice witchcraft on a daily basis! You are literally stirring up potions made of armadillo hide and leeches one day, and and then pretending to celebrate Christmas the next.

Not to be judgey, but it’s all a little hypocritical.

Also, don’t you think it might have been cool to not R.I.P. and instead just be a ghost for eternity? You and Moaning Myrtle could have hooked up in the prefects’ bathroom, ghost style! (I mean as long as you kept it casual with her, since she likely has a disordered attachment style in her relationships, she would have definitely been interested. I know for a fact she got a preview of the goods and she-likey.)

Anyway, whatever. What’s done is done. Even though Harry sort of got you into this mess in the first place, he is one nice awesome dude for taking your body back to your insufferable dad for you without so much as a “really bro?” So I hope it’s cool with you if he rushes right back to Hogwarts and immediately swoops in on Cho, without giving her any space whatsoever to grieve. (Relax buddy, he’s not going to do that. He’s principled AF.)

Bad sports

Posted on by Harry Potter Virgin

Harry Potter and the The Goblet of Fire was published in July 2000, a year in which a MORI survey reported that 66% of British adults said “there are too many immigrants in Britain,” and 63% “considered too much is being done to help immigrants.”

J.K. Rowling may have a global audience but this is the actual culture out of which her mass appeal flourished, and so, it is no surprise that what happens during the international Triwizard Tournament mirrors that level of parochial thinking. The proceedings are beset from day one by treachery from its foreign opponents.

From the start, there is very little trust awarded these strangers. Ron is furious with Hermione for taking Viktor Krum to the Yule Ball (though he may have had more personal reasons for this sudden show of nationalism.) When Hagrid goes so far as to warn Harry, “The less you lot ‘ave ter do with these foreigners, the happier yeh’ll be. Yeh can’t trust any of ’em,” I thought surely our half-giant friend will be eating his words soon enough. You can’t publish that kind of thing in a children’s book and not have an opposing, more edifying lesson presented.

We are now at the end of the tournament’s third task, in which Harry and Cedric are simultaneously triumphant, and I’m still awaiting Bulgaria’s redemption.

I wish I could report that I remained impervious to the charms of this jingoistic foolishness, but I would be lying if I told you that my eyes were dry when Harry and Cedric laid their hands upon the Cup at the same moment, pulling them “onward in a howl of wind and swirling color.”

Did those colors happen to be those of the Union Jack?

Well, I don’t know how you and your self-respect are doing today. Maybe you caught your wife in bed with another lover this afternoon. Maybe you fell flat on your face in front of an entire auditorium chanting about how you suck. I for one, got choked up on the NYC subway holding a damn Harry Potter book and I think my thing beats your thing.

 

 

Kruel Intentions

Posted on by Harry Potter Virgin

If you are someone who has seen a movie or read a book or gone to high school, Viktor Krum’s interest in Hermione may seem suspicious to you.

I would like to believe that for just once, a hot popular dude can be all up in the bookish nerdy girl’s business for non-sadistic reasons, but the way things are going right now for the gang in “The Goblet of Fire,” I am starting to have serious doubts that this will be the big moment for which I’ve been waiting for my entire life.

Please J.K. Rowling — give a woman who came of age during the era of “Cruel Intentions” and “She’s All That” a bit of faith here.

And no, I will not be satisfied if he comes to love her during the course of carrying out his evil scheme. He needs to have loved her from the start, before she peels her nose out of her books and lets down her hair — or in Hermione’s case, greases her hair with Sleakeazy’s Hair Potion (side note: please don’t get me started on hair texture politics in this book because I will have a cow.)

Not only does Krum need to love Hermione now, he needs to love her even when her hands have been infected with undiluted bubotuber pus (which she sustained as a result of their association), and he needs to love her even when her eyes are bloodshot from having pulled an all-nighter with Harry practicing stunning and disarming spells — and he better not get jealous about that either.

As a nerd with poofy hair, these are very personal matters to me. I spent countless hours of my adolescence hoping to catch the attention of this or that popular guy with said poofy hair and nerdish charms. It was a fruitless emotional journey.

As for Hermione, I admire her lack of suspicion about this man’s intentions. It reflects a confidence I never possessed at her age. And even though Viktor Krum seems like a dumb boring jock, who Hermione should totally reject, his interest in her better be legit and not just part of some elaborate ruse to take down Harry Potter, or I am going to be very irked with the Durmstrang delegation and the entire YA genre.

Lovely Rita Cheater Maid

Posted on by Harry Potter Virgin

The wizarding world has one journalist — Rita Skeeter — who writes for both the hard-hitting broadsheet, “The Daily Prophet,” and the glossy woman’s magazine “Witch Weekly.”

At no point is there ever any mention of competing publications, or even of Skeeter’s colleagues. Despite Geraldo Rivera-ish undertones, being the only game in town lends her words unfortunate heft and influence. I hope you don’t need a journalism degree (which I do happen to possess) to see that shit’s weird.

Skeeter is an amoral and remorseless sensationalist with no anxiety about misquoting her sources, conflating rumor with fact, or even publishing total fabrications. She editorializes wherever it is inappropriate to do so with gusto.

The only thing worse than her written output is her cutthroat reporting practices. She ambushes guileless interviewees with her “Quick-Quotes-Quill,” a telepathic device capturing her every agenda-laden sentence as she thinks it. She makes an art form of finding the most vindictive and petty sources to support her biases.

I personally cannot blame her for her greasy practices though. To me, she is an ambitious witch just trying to make it in a wizard’s world. What’s more, literally no one has done anything of consequence to try to put a stop to her ragged media monopoly.

The Daily Prophet has no corrections page, no ombudsman and no fear of litigation — and the wizarding community is complicit, seemingly never having heard of a good defamation attorney or even a simple letter-to-the-editor.

While I do sympathize with the many victims that ole Rita Skeeter leaves in her relentless wake — Mr. Weasley, Harry, Hagrid, Hermione — I believe we get the press we deserve.

 

Poor unfortunate souls of the crappy little lake

Posted on by Harry Potter Virgin

I don’t know about you, but where I come from, merpeople are fine AF. The mermaids all have one inch waists, substantial breasts totally supported by seashell bikinis, and elegant blowouts that remain untangled even after full days of spinning through briny water in songful contemplation. And the mermen? Holy cow. The mermen are regal silver foxes with booming voices, six pack abs and chests for days.

I actually think the 1989 cartoon version of “The Little Mermaid” is what made me bisexual.

In any case, I was hoping for something along those lines during the second task of the Triwizard Tournament. I was disappointed to learn that the merpeople Harry Potter faces off with are not glamorous hotties at all. No! They are the stuff of nightmares. They have gray skin; they have teeth as broken as the U.S. healthcare system; and every single one of them is a veritable sadist.

I half expect the film version of this scene to be set to “Dueling Banjos.”

Worst of all, the merpeople of the Harry Potter universe do not spend their days consorting with maestro crustaceans and cute little fish. Their animal friends are horrifying creatures known as grindylows. If you don’t know what a grindylow looks like, I would not recommend investigating this matter with a Google image search if you ever plan to sleep again.

But, to be fair, this population of merpeople are not willfully ignorant. They are just victims of circumstance.

For one thing, they do not enjoy the vast resources of the world’s interconnected ocean systems to draw upon for their economic growth or cultural edification. They are marginalized, living in a glorified pond — a habitat I imagine offers a severely limited scope of nutritional resources. Their remote outpost means few educational and professional opportunities and a regrettable lack of genetic variability in their reproductive practices.

I am not sure what’s to be done for these poor unfortunate souls, but if anyone’s going to take up their cause, I suspect it will be Hermione, who may be just compassionate enough to overlook that time they knocked her unconscious and held her hostage in an underwater lair.

 

A lesson from a failed teenage activist

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Hermione, it’s time to consider whether you are you going to talk the talk or walk the walk.

I myself was a failed teenage activist. I was less serious about my politics than the image I was cultivating. I started clubs, but didn’t follow through. I wore statement buttons (ahem) but didn’t change my behaviors to suit their claims. I was shallow.

But, you? I had long thought better of you. You spent several days being secretive about your date to the Yule Ball. In turn, I entertained my theories about this mystery. I was completely appalled to discover how very wrong I was and now doubt your commitment to the liberation of house elves.

It’s true that you’re just getting your feet wet as a radical thought leader and activist, but did it ever occur to you that a high profile event marked by elegance and abundance is when all the bad asses tend to make their grandest socialist statements?

Was I wrong to assume you would bring Dobby to the dance in a one-two punch of both freeing him of his subterranean toils for one simple evening, while also shining a spotlight on the cause of house-elf liberation?

Perhaps I was having a temporary lapse of reason. After all, you just had your teeth fixed, and as a braces veteran, I know what a special time in a girl’s life that can be.

Still, you went above and beyond, not only attending the dance with a human, but with  one of its most indulged, Viktor Krum, a veritable celebrity and certainly a lifelong beneficiary of unpaid elf labor. You also looked great while doing it, effectively turning the Yule Ball into your debutante ball.

I suppose the night was not an entire waste, however. So, you didn’t break any major conventions, but you did break a heart. Hullo Ron.

I just hope the Weird Sisters do covers and know some Boyz II Men

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Had I read the Harry Potter Series when it was initially published, I would have suspended my belief for its magical elements more readily than I would have for it’s lack of a different kind of magic altogether.

Why do these adolescent characters seem so devoid of sexual thoughts or romantic attractions for the first 1000 pages of the series? Sure, Ginny “is fond of” Harry, and Percy used to rendezvous with his girlfriend in this or that empty classroom for the lightest of petting. Even Harry himself has occasionally acknowledged that Cho is pretty. But these explorations are all rather peripheral. The students seem largely asleep to one another.

Contrasting that to my own experience, when I was 11 (the age that we are introduced to Harry) I had an all-consuming crush on a classmate. A crush that had been completely ruining me and my academic concentration since 4th grade. It was relentless and painful and made only bearable by several smaller diversionary crushes.

And like many kids that age, I was also totally anxious about what was going on with my body. But, puberty goes totally unaddressed in Harry Potter. Which I guess makes sense when you’re constantly subject to being turned into a ferret or developing fangs at the drop of a spell. A slowly changing body in a totally expected way would be a rather humdrum phenomenon under such circumstances.

So, okay, maybe I was a girl with a lot of time on my hands and these are books about a boy preoccupied by the fact that everyone is constantly trying to murder him. Fair enough. Dating may rightfully not be a top priority for our hero.

But, for better or for worse, the latency period seems to be collectively over for the students of Hogwarts. The entire school seems to be under some kind of spell, as it’s suddenly turned as sexy as Rydell or Ridgemont High. Fred is all Mr. Suave, asking Angelina out from across the room like he does this kind of thing every day of the week. Umpteen girls throw themselves at Harry. Ron suddenly sees Hermione with a fresh pair of eyes. But no magic was performed for this wild transformation.

All these kids needed was a school dance.

Where the F are the Ravenclaws?

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In my experience these past three and a half decades, wit and wisdom have been highly prized characteristics among humans. But if you were an alien whose sole Earthly artifact was the Harry Potter series, you may not get that sense.

Where the F are the Ravenclaws? I’ve eagerly awaited their contribution to the Hogwarts tableau for over 1000 pages now and I literally cannot remember one plot point hinging on one of its members.

They are a largely nameless, faceless blur.

Looming large in books 1-3 however are the Slytherins, whose qualities are distilled in their vacuous leader, Draco Malfoy, whose entire humor playbook consists merely of pointing out the financial and genealogical deficiencies of his opponents, and this uninspired, low-hanging fruit is the source of many chuckles from a pair of brain dead lackeys.

But we’re not laughing.

In book 4, Hufflepuff finally comes out of the woodwork and into the center of the action. Great! A new house, a new archetype to mix things up. If you’re looking for a barrel of laughs however, don’t get excited. Their GPS route finder is permanently filtered to traverse only the high road.

And Gryffindor of course is too quick on the draw to be quick witted. Their mental energies are trained on saving the world and seeking justice.

What’s going on here Rowling? Did you perhaps back yourself into a corner with Ravenclaw? Is it perhaps challenging to promise that certain characters are going to be witty and then to actually deliver?

I have made it rain on you in the form of 10 and 65/100 singles and in return, I wanna see some Ravenclaw-vage.

TW: Fleur Delacour

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It is difficult to read these books now for the first time in adulthood. They trigger some feelings.

Look, we all knew some girls in high school who were at least one-quarter veela. Great at everything they did. Possibly French. Always stupefying our boyfriends with their flawless complexions and flowing hair, leaving us in our perma-clammy, pimply states to apologize for the very space our bodies regrettably must inhabit.

But listen up Fleur Delacour. You are a piece of work.

You and your name may be somehow both feminine and baronial at once; you may know how to pronounce “bouillabaisse”; your graceful fluidity and boundless self-possession may render you peerless; and your success may beget ugly weeping from other women.

You have many gifts. But teenage me did have a few things you didn’t have.

And the first one was class. Math class that is. And science and English. So, you can face off with dragons. So what? Do you know the quadratic equation? Can you identify the prevailing themes in “Catcher in the Rye”? Didn’t think so.

The second is friends. Yes, I had friends. Real friends. We loved each other and had each other’s backs. The success of one of our order meant our collective happiness and joy.

The third was about 20 pounds. That’s right. I lost some weight after high school. Weight you never had the pleasure of losing. Who cares if that was 17 years ago already. I can promise you that no one’s ever gonna hear the end of it. Yes there’s something to be said for congenital arrogance, but it is no match for its hard won counterpart. Tell your boyfriend I said hi.

Angelina Johnson, we appreciate your interest

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A young qualified black woman, poised and confident, enters her name for consideration to represent Hogwarts at the Triwizard tournament. What happens next should surprise no one who has been paying attention to the world of Harry Potter these past 1200+ pages, or to the real-life events of human history these past couple thousands of years.

Selected over Angelina Johnson, is a technically unqualified white male, who for the record, hadn’t even applied for the job.

How did this happen? We are to believe this is an issue of birthright. Our plucky, at times reluctant hero, on account of his natural abilities and the legacy of his parents’ courageous martyrdom, is a boy destined to be a Great Man. No, he was not chosen for this latest honor by a human panel of flawed individuals implicitly biased towards their mirror image. His name was spewed out of the Goblet of Fire — a device we are told is an “impartial selector.”

But can the Goblet of Fire be impartial when the author behind its creation is a newly minted billionaire with a vested interested in moving books off the shelves and filling theater seats?

Britain adopted affirmative action measures as part of a bill passed in 2010 — an act that was met with resistance and rancor by many in the business community. This book, the fourth in the series, was published in 2000, a mere 10 years before the legislation took hold, and presumably in the midst of related anxiety.

The Goblet isn’t playing by anyone’s rules. Not yet.

Angelina’s race is awkwardly shoehorned into her description. The same way an adolescent casually remembers a quart of milk along with that pack of smokes so as not to arouse suspicion, we are also told at this time that Angelina is tall. I would not be at all surprised to learn whether this cumbersome maneuver was performed by a well-meaning editor moments before the manuscript was sent to the printing press.

While Angelina was not selected to be Champion of Hogwarts, she does play seeker for Gryffindor. So while she may have but a mere walk-on part where the Triwizard Tournament is concerned,  there is the promise of loads of screen time representation in the film adaptations on the Quidditch field, primarily wordless notwithstanding.