[HPforGrownups] Lockhart's spells (transmogrification)

[heidi]

No: HPFGUIDX 4660

Why do I remember something So obscure from high school senior year English
class in 1988?
There's  poem which mentions a "transmogrifying bee" -I managed to find it (you
can see it at the end of this post) - and my teacher told us that
"transmogrifying" means something which creates a substantial change - in teh
context of that poem, because it changed the hen from being alive to being dead
- I don't know if JKR got it from that, or even knows of that poem - and I have
NO clue why I've always remembered it (maybe my trelawny-side knew I'd have use
for it someday.

Neil Ward wrote:

> Steve wrote:
>
> >I finally discovered the origin of the Transmogrifian Torture
> >Lockhart bragged about. I had of course spotted the "trans" part from
> >Latin, but I couldn't place the rest of it. Blaise, who does this
> >sort of thing for a living, tried to help out but couldn't find a
> >connection either. But the other day, smack dab in the middle of a
> >rehearsal for the play I'm directing right now, it hit me.
> >
> >It's from Calvin and Hobbes. That cardboard box Calvin uses to
> >transform himself (in his imagination) into various creatures and
> >later to create a whole bunch of duplicates of himself is called a
> >Transmogrifier.
>
> I had come across the term transmogrification before reading HP, but it's
> not the sort of word one drops into daily conversation.  My dictionary
> defines transmogrify as "to transform, especially in a magical or surprising
> manner".  It's described as 'jocular' and C17, of unknown origin.  Possible
> modern use: "Come round for dinner, and watch me transmogrify some basic
> ingredients into an edible meal"...well, perhaps not.
>
> Can we, then, assume that mogrify means "to form"?  I think it may be a
> deviation from magrify, either related to magic/mage or the term magrif,
> which appears to be a prayer of Arabic origin.

The poem:
Beautifully Janet slept
           Till it was deeply morning. She woke then
           And thought about her dainty-feathered hen,
           To see how it had kept.

           One kiss she gave her mother.
           Only a small one gave she to her daddy
           Who would have kissed each curl of his shining
           baby;
           No kiss at all for her brother.

           Old Chucky, old Chucky! she cried,
           Running across the world upon the grass
           To Chuckys house, and listening. But alas,
           Her Chucky had died.

           It was a transmogrifying bee
           Came droning down on Chuckys old bald head
           And sat and put the poison. It scarcely bled,
           But how exceedingly

           And purply did the knot
           Swell with the venom and communicate
           Its rigor! Now the poor comb stood up straight
           But Chucky did not.

           So there was Janet
           Kneeling on the wet grass, crying her brown hen
           (Translated far beyond the daughters of men)
           To rise and walk upon it.

           And weeping fast as she had breath
           Janet implored us, Wake her from her sleep!
           And would not be instructed in how deep
           Was the forgetful kingdom of death.