The man who didn't come to dinner

[sistermagpie]

I had a stray thought today while reading the various theories of Sirius being poisoned, mostly about why I like

Personally, in case anyone's interested, I don't think Sirius was poisoned, nor do I think he was acting reckless when he died. I tend to think that line about the potion is there so that *Harry* can start suspecting Snape of doing some reckless poisoning later, if it's there for any reason at all. Or perhaps the potion will come up later. Heh. It's like fanfic. Everybody knows when Snape introduces a potion in class *somebody* will be accidentally ingesting it by the end of the fic, and it will probably lead to sex somehow.

Anyway, one thing that's been brought up with regards to Snape poisoning someone is his not eating any food at Grimmauld Place--something one might avoid if one knew the food was poisoned. I think again, that would be a little too obvious, like in We Have Always Lived In The Castle when a character is widely considered a murderer because her family was poisoned through the sugar bowl and everyone knows Constance never takes sugar. Regardless, what's interesting is how the topic of Snape's not eating has become an issue.

Technically, I don't think we know he doesn't eat anything at Grimmauld Place, though I suspect he doesn't. I think we're just told he "never stays for dinner." People have said, reasonably, that he doesn't stay for dinner because he doesn't want to socialize with these people any more than he has to. For all we know he's also got a truckload of other responsibilities somewhere. Maybe he's moonlighting at a fast food place in Hogsmeade. We don't know.

But I realized another reason I like the idea of Snape not eating at the place. I'm pretty sure there's a passage in The Count of Monte Cristo, that deals with the hero not eating. Now, I read CoMC (hmm. same initials as Care of Magical Creatures...) in French so for all I know I made up the entire scene through my bad translation and Edmund really refused to remove his galoshes indoors, but I seem to remember that what happened was the Count went to a party at the home of his former fiancé and her husband, one of the conspirators who got him sent to prison for 19 years. Mercedes, his former love, recognizes him as Edmund. She keeps the secret but gets very upset when he refuses an hors d'oeuvre. I mean, seriously upset. She's just frantic that he try her canapé--wtf?

Later it's revealed this is because refusing to eat is a point of honor--you do not accept food in your enemy's house. It appears to be something one could start a duel with if one wanted. Now, it's kind of funny to draw a parallel between Snape and Edmund, since in this story the character most like Edmund would be the guy who spent 13 years in prison for a crime he didn't commit and then broke out. Snape isn't responsible for putting Sirius in prison, though, and Sirius doesn't seem much for archaic traditions. Snape, otoh, I can definitely see holding a Monte Cristo-type grudge and privately vowing never to eat food served in the house of his enemy. Not that anyone would notice--well, other Slytherins might, but they’re not going to be invited to dinner by Molly either.

Snape is, after all, the character in canon who feels bound by a life debt because James Potter was moved to stop a prank by his best friend that never should have happened to begin with--I suspect if there were a fair court of law about such things Snape would be cleared of any life debtedness. Harry, by contrast, appears to feel under no such obligation to Snape for his protection. So if somebody were going to do something like this it would be Snape, imo. I doubt this was the author's intention, but it just seems very Snape to me.

Comments

[sistermagpie.livejournal.com]

Ugh. That's exactly it--and I am so looking forward to the Calvinism essay. *rubs hands together*

As I think Elkins said in her other essay about Neville, the frustrating thing isn't that Neville must be useless, because he's *not*. It's that he must turn out to be exactly like the "right" people in order to prove it. What's particularly annoying to me is that hey, there are things I suck at. I always think of potions as being a lot like chemistry and I could. not. do. chemistry. at. all. There were subjects I was good at, just as Neville is good at herbology. He doesn't have to become super good at duelling, particularly not because *boom* this year he's going to be good at duelling (I mean, c'mon, was he not working hard before? Is Harry that much of a better teacher? Is it his new bloodlust that makes him suddenly quicker on his feet?). I'd appreciate it more, frankly, if Neville worked hard and didn't become that much of a star and still had problems--while meanwhile just having the talents he actually does have and growing in those.

[arclevel.livejournal.com]

I like Neville, and always have. I thought McGonagall said his problem was a lack of concentration, not confidence, but either way, this was pretty close to my (and others') theory before OotP came out, but it had nothing to do with excusing/denying Neville's problems. The opposite, if anything. Basically, the idea was that Neville was seen as a very weak wizard and called himself "nearly a Squib." But that was nonsense. He frequently screwed things up, but he did so in dramatic fashion -- things exploded, table legs disappeared. IOW, lots and lots of power, absolutely no control. Which is, indeed, his own fault (though there were also psychological theories about said lack of control). Except, of course, that using someone else's wand really *could* lead to being unusually bad; I don't like that reason, but it is at least partly canon. (I wonder how many people start their Hogwarts career with a hand-me-down wand? We know of at least two.)

I also don't like the idea of Neville conforming to other people's standards of what's right or great. I could theorize that his dueling improvement is, as Harry noted, due to motivation from the Lestranges' escape, but he was improving noticeably before that. I have no theories beyond the fact that teenagers can change drastically.

I don't like the memory charm, but it seems like something that "helpful" wizards would do. Though I agree that if Neville was there, they'd have tortured him.

[sistermagpie.livejournal.com]

My problem isn't that Neville can't improve at things since hard work and concentration could be worked on. Neville already has done that--he excels in herbology, he's not completely hopeless at everything. There's times when he's more suave than Harry and Ron and that doesn't bother me. But I admit I will dislike his character immensely if it turns out he was really superior and artificially held back either through memory charms, the wrong wand, or just suddenly clicking maybe because it fits into Elkins' essay too well. My biggest struggle with Neville is that I like him personally as a character but always find myself pulling against the lesson he seems to be about in canon--sometimes he's like the broccoli of the Potterverse to me. So I'd prefer if the parts of Neville that I do like were the ones that ultimately defined him and not the storylines that make me think broccoli.

[jodel-from-aol.livejournal.com]

My own take on Neville is that he didn't want to be a wizard at all. and really *wanted* to be let off the hook and sent home because he *couldn't cut it*. Up to year 5 every time he opened his mouth he was (hopefully?) reminding people that he was "practically a Squib".

Of course his methods for convincing people that he was useless only served to point out that he had all the power any normal wizard actually needs, he just wouldn't settle down and make proper use of it. The people who saw through the duffer act were highly annoyed. McGonagall was throughly exasperated by it, and it got right up Snape's nose and drove him nuts.

The forgetfullness is a different issue. I think that Neville was accustomed to spending most of his time off in his own little world and either things didn't get through in the first place, or he would check right back out and forget them.

We never got a chance to see his Road to Damascus moment. But he had one, and I think it was some way through year 4 , quite possibly over something to do with Crouch/Moody. Somewhere in that time period, it finally sank in that he was a wizard, he wasn't going to be let off the hook, and he had to learn to protect himself in the only way available to wizards. By getting control of his own magic.

I've an essay on Neville over on Red Hen that goes into this at greater length.