The Potions Master (ch.8)

There are 142 staircases at Hogwarts. Why this is an important fact to start the chapter on is probably more about the jolt to the system Harry is feeling with the change of scenery and the addition of magic. My first though, however, was “no wonder the Marauders needed a map.” Of course, the Gryffindor gang was older when they made the map, and all indications point to it being a creation to find and avoid people. Still, I’m rather surprised that a school that large does not give out basic instructions to the classrooms, most notably if professors (or perhaps this is just Snape) are going to take points off in the first week for being late.

I’m always flabbergasted that Professor Binns, the History of Magic Professor, is a ghost. Not that a ghost is necessarily a bad choice for the position. More so that Binns is a bad choice for the position, especially since he isn’t even alive. By all accounts, he pays no attention to the students in his class. Really? Really, Dumbledore, you couldn’t find ANYONE else?

So Harry and Ron, and all the other new students, are getting used to Hogwarts and finding their way, more or less. And here comes Friday, the first Gryffindor/Slytherin potions class with Professor Severus Snape. Excuse me while I fangirl over Alan Rickman’s portrayal of the Potions Master. Harry also has tea with Hagrid later, but he has to survive Potions first. Ah, the introduction that stays with you. Master Severus Snape, ensnare my attention, please.

“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making… As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.” (Rowling, J.K.. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (p. 146). Pottermore Publishing. Kindle Edition.)

It is in this potions class that certain things are cemented: Hermione as a hand waving swot, the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin (especially Harry vs. Draco), and the eternal knife’s edge balance of the relationship of Harry Potter and Severus Tobias Snape. Oh, and of course the undeniable fact that Neville Longbottom is terrified of Professor Snape and is terrible at potion making.

Then it’s time for tea with Hagrid, and some more breadcrumbs from J.K. Rowling. Harry notices the Daily Profit on Hargrid’s table with the following article: GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown. Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day. “But we’re not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what’s good for you,” said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon. (Rowling, J.K.. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (p. 151). Pottermore Publishing. Kindle Edition.) As Harry thinks about it, he concludes: “Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen, if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package. Had that been what the thieves were looking for?” (p. 152)

While a relatively short and unexciting chapter, a few things are established that set the whole series, and the Sorcerer’s Stone storyline, into motion. If you know what to look for and read the writing on the walls…sorry, that was in Chamber of Secrets. Sorry, sorry, bad pun, but I couldn’t help myself. Until next time!

Thomas Benke: Looking Around In Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott, in the Chapter “Looking Around,” says this: Now, if you ask me, what’s going on is that we’re all up to here in it, and probably the most important thing is that we not yell at one another. Otherwise we’d all just be barking away like Pekingese: “Ah! Stuck in the shit! And it’s your fault, you did this …” Writing involves seeing people suffer and, as Robert Stone once put it, finding some meaning therein. But you can’t do that if you’re not respectful. If you look at people and just see sloppy clothes or rich clothes, you’re going to get them wrong. She goes on to speak about empathy for other people and also, as an extension empathy for yourself. So, in a sense as you try to write believable, relatable characters, you will come to forgive people their trespasses—because no one believes they are the villain of their story, so you have to write “bad,” or “evil” characters from a point of view where they rationalize what they are doing in such a way that it is the right or only way they see is possible. By extrapolation, then, if you begin to forgive and withhold judgment from your less-than-desirable, or annoying characters, perhaps you can extend the same courtesy to yourself and forgive your own trespasses and sins. This, for me, starts to enter the realm of “writing as therapy,” and though I am a firm believer in that—I practice it to this very day—I think I would caution anyone who thinks that simply writing through things is going to lead you to a place of light and love. I am not saying it can’t by any means. What I am saying is I have wrote through my thoughts and my problems and my desperation and depression for decades and I still had enough baggage on my shoulders to supply an army platoon with rations for a year. In any case, when thinking about craft, it is very important to step into the shoes of all of your characters, especially those characters that you see as antagonists and villians. I believe there are very few universal maxims in writing but one thing is virtually certain: every character you write is your version of that human being. Confucius said “everywhere I go, there I am,” and that is never more true than when you are writing. So if you are writing a character that is distasteful to you, it might be effective for you to ask yourself why that is the case. I wrote a blog for Obscura last semester titled, “The Puppy Had It Coming.” The gist of the article was to pose a puzzle to writers. How can you write a scene where an adult human kicks a puppy across the room and the reader at least understands why. I am not saying there is any way to justify the action or for the readers to be on the human’s side unless they are sociopaths. I am saying you need let the reader know how dark the place is in the character’s mind that he is capable of doing that.

The Potions Master (ch.8)

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