Chapter Twenty -- Xenophilius Lovegood

[gehayi.livejournal.com]

This is smurasaki's spork, and an outstanding job, too.

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In which there is much inconsistency, the Trio prove themselves dim and unobservant even by wizarding standards, and they finally take a break from wandering in the woods.

Chapter Twenty: Xenophilius Lovegood

The chapter opens with Hermione still sulking at Ron and Ron feigning remorse in the hopes that she will forgive him. These wandering in the woods chapters are so much fun, so exciting, such a wonderful cure for insomnia. Why couldn’t we have spent the middle of the book with Neville, Ginny, Luna, and the others at Hogwarts? Oh, right, then we’d all notice that Neville has become much more of a hero than Harry. Can’t have that.

Instead, we have Harry and Ron escaping from Hermione’s aura of irritation to celebrate that…

“Someone helped us,” he (Ron) kept saying. “Someone sent that doe. Someone’s on our side."

Why are they so certain of that? The doe led them to the sword, sure, but the sword was at the bottom of an ice covered pond and if Ron hadn’t been there, Harry would have drowned. True, whoever sent the doe didn’t interfere with Ron’s rescue of Harry, but neither did they leap out of the woods to lend a hand themselves. It could have been a trap that backfired at Ron’s arrival just as easily as someone helping them. I mean, who the hell gives someone an important item by sinking it in an icy pond and luring them to it? If the sword had been left outside the tent, I’d agree with Ron’s enthusiasm, but as it stands, if that was an ally, it was one who preferred unnecessary complications to effectiveness.

Wait, that describes their allies perfectly. Never mind.

Ron does tell them that Voldie’s name is now jinxed. How fortunate for Harry and Hermione that Ron talked them into not calling Voldie by name six chapters ago. If he hadn’t, we wouldn’t have been subjected to six chapters of woods wandering. Damn you, Ron!

“Using his name breaks protective enchantments, it causes some kind of magical disturbance – it’s how they found us in Totenham Court Road!”

If the jinx has really been on Voldie’s name (I wonder whether it would work if you called him that?) since their near capture in Chapter Nine, that same jinx should have broken the protective enchantments at Grimmauld Place. By my count, Voldie’s name was said twenty-seven times there by, variously, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Lupin. Sure, the Death Eaters already knew they were there, but that doesn’t explain why it didn’t destroy the enchantments that made the house safe.

Of course, sending Death Eaters to any place where Voldie’s name is spoken makes more sense on paper than it would in practice. Are there really enough Death Eaters compared to enemies of Death Eaters for this not to be turned into a trap? We are told that Kingsley single-handedly fought off the Death Eater squad that tried to catch him. And what about Neville and company’s rebellion at Hogwarts? Why didn’t it attract Death Eaters and destroy Hogwarts’ protective enchantments? Did someone warn them? Harry has spent six books convincing people to use Voldie’s name.

*headdesk*

They finally discuss why their ally didn’t just hand them the sword, or at least why he wouldn’t have if he were a not-dead Dumbledore. Their brilliant conclusion? To quote Ron, “I dunno.”

If I didn’t already believe the theory that wizards are lacking a few minor things like, oh, intelligence, wisdom, common sense, and the ability to get dressed without help, that would have convinced me. Wizards are, on the whole, dumber than a box of rocks. (Apologies to rocks everywhere.)

Strangely, Dumbledore’s habit of leaving out important information makes perfect sense to Ron because, “He knew what he was doing when he gave me the Deluminator, didn’t he?” But he couldn’t have. This is just one of many instances of Dumbledore’s plans working because of random chance. No, actually, it’s worse than that. Ron only left because the Trio, despite Hermione’s Purse of Holding, decided to wear an evil artifact that affected their emotions. Dumbledore knew they were that stupid? Why did he entrust the finding of Horcruxes, and potentially the fate of the world, to a trio of seventeen year old idiots? This series should be entitled Bloody Idiots and the Miracles of Providence.

Their discussion of Dumbledore moves from his brilliance to Rita Skeeter’s article on him. Ron doesn’t see what the big deal is about Dumbledore and Grindelwald, which seems surprisingly tolerant of him. Even more so if he knew they really were a couple. Alas, no one in the books will ever know. Still, Ron doesn’t think Dumbledore hanging out with Hitler Grindelwald is important because Dumbledore was young. Harry reminds him that he was “Our age.” And proceeds to prove how mature seventeen year olds are by enlarging a spider while chatting with his arachnophobic friend. With an unfamiliar wand that doesn’t work right for him.

Sadly, the spider does not grow to Aragog size and eat them.

Instead, we get Harry wangsting over the lost of his wand and how weak the replacement wand is. Yes, the savior of the world has performance issues. This, and his concern about it, would be more understandable if Harry’s magical aptitude didn’t rise and fall unpredictably throughout the series. Sometimes he’s described as having an unusual gift, but other times you get the feeling that the only thing in the Wizarding World he’s actually good at it is Quidditch. Good thing he ends up saving the world by being a Horcrux; he’d never manage it if he were actually required to do something.

Hermione tries to reassure him by telling him “You just need to practice” and “It’s all a matter of confidence, Harry.”

Harry dismisses her advice as her guilt speaking, and doesn’t consider that she might, in fact, be right. Oh, the replacement wand might not be as suited to him as his own wand, but he’s having difficulty getting basic spells off. I think that’s more than just the wand, there, Harry.

But Harry blames Hermione for the loss of his wand and only resists snapping at her because he wants them to get along. Never mind that his wand was broken when she saved his sorry unconscious ass. A little gratitude might be in order.

That evening, Ron pulls out a radio and we get a really weird intersection of magic and technology. This isn’t the first time that radios have come up in the Wizarding World, but the idea of wizards, who don’t grasp Muggle technology, using radios does not improve with repeated use. Now we’ve got a portable (and wooden?) radio that allows people to listen to a program that can only be tuned in with a magical password, at least if the program is broadcasting at the time. What? How? I can accept a magical equivalent to a radio and radio stations, even an underground resistance radio station equivalent. Hell, if wizards did grasp (and regularly use) Muggle technology, I might accept the magical radio business as written, but they don’t and trying to make sense of it gives me a headache. How is the connection between broadcast and receiver password protected? Why does it require a password in the first place? Wouldn’t that be counterproductive for a resistance radio program? Are the wizards really using radio waves? How are they broadcasting their underground program? Will this make any more sense if/when Ron does tune in the program?

But my questions go unanswered as Hermione stops reading The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore and ominously declares that she and Harry “need to talk.”

Harry fears that he will have to explain away Rita’s theories about his relationship with Dumbledore, but, no, Hermione just wants to visit Xenophilius Lovegood. Well, that was anticlimactic.

Why does Hermione have the sudden urge to visit Luna’s dad? Because Dumbledore used that odd little symbol they found in Beedle the Bard as the A in Albus in a letter to Grindelwald. Xenophilius must know what this symbol means since was wearing it at Bill and Fleur’s wedding. Right, because symbols mean the same thing to everyone who uses them, and older symbols never get appropriated for new meanings. Which, in fact, they know must have happened to this symbol. *headdesk*

There’s another problem with Hermione jumping to the conclusion that the symbol is somehow relevant. The letter Dumbledore uses the symbol in is one about Grindelwald’s movement, which would suggest he was using it in the Grindelwald’s mark sense. The copy of Beedle the Bard was also owned by Dumbledore. To use a real world analogy, how surprised would you be to find a swastika in a book owned by a former Nazi? Or on a letter written from one Nazi to another? What? You aren’t shocked? You don’t think there might be a deeper meaning? You’re clearly not as bright as Hermione, who just knows there’s a deeper meaning. One that doesn’t involve Grindelwald’s movement.

And she wants to ask Xenophilius Lovegood what it means? Because kooks are absolutely the best source of accurate information. Of course.

This is why it’s a bad idea for poorly educated, fugitive dimwits with no access to reference materials to be in charge of horcrux destruction. No, wait, the fugitive dimwits do have access to reference materials; Hermione’s Purse of Holding is filled with reference books. Apparently, they’ve all forgotten about that, or else none of the books, even the one with the promising title The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, mention the symbol. Then again, these are the same fugitive dimwits who failed to tell anyone else about the Horcruxes. Because they believe Dumbledore didn’t want them to. Perhaps, in view of the new information, they should wonder whose side Dumbledore was really on. (Though it bothers me that the well-read Hermione doesn’t know about Grindelwald’s mark and the fact that it was a symbol out of folklore. I mean, I might not know all the meanings the swastika has had, but I know it featured in Asian religions and native American belief before the Nazis got their hands on it.)

Harry, in a moment of good sense, or petulance, objects to visiting the Lovegoods. But Ron takes Hermione’s side because he’s so desperate to be back in her good graces, he’d agree if she suggested they ask Voldie. Harry realizes this, and argues with Hermione about whether or not Dumbledore left them clues. For some odd reason, Harry seems to think that Dumbledore would have just told him anything important to his mission. Even though Dumbledore has always saved his knowledge for his patented Dumbledore Explains It All scenes…as they discussed a few pages ago. Harry really isn’t the brightest bulb in the box, is he?

They vote on it, and Disapparate off to find the Lovegood’s house, which is somewhere in the vicinity of the Burrow. (“Just over the hill,” according to Xenophilius in Chapter Eight.) After a quick discussion of where Ron spent Christmas, because that’s terribly important, and the fact that Luna will be at home, they start searching the hills. They walk in an unspecified direction for a few hours, then Disapparate a few miles farther north and find the Lovegood house.

This bothered me, both because they conveniently Disapparated right to the Lovegood house and because it sounds like they ended up ten or eleven miles from where they started. Now, it could be because I’m a lazy American, but I really wouldn’t consider that “not far” (Ron) or “just over the hill.” Heck, I live in a small city, and just nine miles in any direction puts me outside of the city limits. I get the feeling JKR either doesn’t walk much or walks a hell of a lot.

Back to the Lovegood house.

Ron was pointing upward, toward the top of the hill on which they had appeared, where a most strange-looking house rose vertically against the sky, a great black cylinder with a ghostly moon hanging behind it in the afternoon sky.

On first reading, I thought for a second that the moon was a decoration on the house, but no, we have a day visible moon for atmosphere. I think I like my misreading better. Still, the sentence needs some serious help. (Like many sentences in the book. Poor sentences.)

Ron then reminds everyone that he’s a chess player by saying the house looks like a rook. Hermione, bizarrely, doesn’t understand what he means and he has to explain. All right, who’s polyjuiced to look like Hermione? Or is this just a sign of low blood sugar due to living on mushrooms and tea for months?

Further proving something is off, she tells Harry to take off the Invisibility Cloak because “It’s you Mr. Lovegood wants to help, not us.”

And that makes it a good idea for him to reveal himself in the garden of a house owned by a known supporter of the good guys? Xenophilius publishes The Quibbler, which you know has been putting out anti-Voldie, pro-Harry pieces for months. You don’t think Voldie might have people watching his house in case members of the Order or Harry himself drop in for tea? Who are you and what have you done with Hermione???

Then again, Hermione didn’t argue with Mad-Eye Disillusioning them all in the Privet Drive garden back in chapter four. Working with the Order has clearly damaged Hermione’s brain.

The stupidity continues when Xenophilius answers the door. By his description, he’s suffering from depression or some other serious emotional problem, but none of the Trio notice. Nor do they notice that he’s clearly afraid someone is watching the place. He may be a kook, but the last time we saw him, the only things odd about him were his beliefs and the color of his clothing. He was odd, not unkempt, incoherent, or paranoid.

Harry notices just enough to be slightly disappointed by this less-than-warm welcome. Disappointed? He warns you off, glances warily around the garden, and is clearly distressed, and you’re disappointed? *headdesk*

Xenophilius lets them in, and we get a page worth of description of the Lovegood house, but not one thought about whether there might be something wrong. Or why Luna isn’t there. It is Christmas break, after all.

Hermione suddenly remembers that she’s supposed to be a know-it-all and has a fit about an Erumpent horn mounted on the wall. Apparently these horns are so unstable that they can explode at the slightest touch. Which makes me wonder exactly how Xenophilius was able to mount it on the wall in the first place. Never mind how the wizard he bought it from transported it safely.

The bomb on the wall firmly established for the next chapter, we move on to Harry asking Xenophilius for help. Xenophilius gets uncomfortable again and clearly doesn’t want to help them. This makes Ron angry, finally clues Harry in to the fact that he’s struggling with something, and Hermione thinks he should get Luna’s opinion. Oh, now someone notices that Luna isn’t there. *headdesk*

Xenophilius gets even more upset, tells what sounds like a bad lie about where Luna is, and goes outside. Ron and Hermione gripe about his cowardice, but Harry figures he’s just afraid for his family and suddenly misses Ginny. Otherwise, we might forget that Harry and Ginny are supposed to be in love, twu love. None of them suspect that anything is wrong, even though Xenophilius is practically wearing a giant neon sign flashing: “Danger! Danger! Something is wrong!”

The dim-witted Trio waste some time looking at a strange homemade headdress. Because mocking people’s weird inventions is so much more important than considering why they might be acting as if they’re being watched. Honestly, they really are too stupid to live.

Xenophilius returns with Gurdyroot tea. He’s suddenly calm again, but no one notices that, either. Instead, they ask him about the symbol he wore to the wedding.

”Are you referring to the sign of the Deathly Hallows?”

You mean we’re going to get an explanation of the book’s title? But we’re only halfway through. This will spoil the suspense!

Oh, we won’t find out until next chapter. Well, that’s all right, then.