Still Life and Memory Charms

[lucky_kari]

No: HPFGUIDX 36811

Believe it or not, I was just putting the final touch on a 
groundbreaking Memory charm essay, when the computer crashed. It 
touched on every facet of the Memory charm issue, adressing most every 
comment that has been made in this discussion, and organizing them. 
Then, Netscape crashed. I blame it exclusively on Porphyria, more on 
that later.

Therefore, I must regretfully pass by all the interesting aspects of 
this discussion that other people have picked up on. I will leave 
speculations about the future of MATCHINGARMCHAIR to Cindy, and I will 
praise Tabouli's post only in passing, saying that she may be 
absolutely right in the end. I also hereby pay tribute to Dicentra's 
perfect explanation of the Memory theme in Harry Potter.

No, I must keep to Elkins and Porphyria, who have got themselves up to 
an astounding amount of dark mischief. 

The soft, sappy, well meant, anti-traumatic Memory Charm

This is what's always kept me away from the Memory charm, but Elkins 
makes a brave case for it before moving on to more meatier theories:
>Given all of that, it wouldn't really surprise me all that much 
>if the immediate wizarding response to a distressed toddler who 
>might have been witness to his parents' torture had been: "Oh, no! 
>He'll be raving mad for sure! And then we'll *never* be able to 
>fix him! He might even decide to Turn To The Dark Side! So quick
> -- give that kid a memory charm, before it's too late!"

But, this wouldn't happen in a warrior culture, would it? Let's 
reimagine the story in Livian Rome: that delightful place where you 
honoured for killing your sister because she cried for her dead fiance 
whom you killed, and people went around sticking their hands in fires 
to prove that they were incapable of "cracking." It's not a bad way 
to look at things, since the wizarding world is rather like Livian 
Rome with a disturbing taste of Homeric Greece. 

Nevillus's pater was a great Roman general, who bravely defended the 
Eternal City against the Volscians and company. However, one day he is 
ambushed by some distinctly treacherous Volscians who kill him. 
Therefore, Nevillus is brought up by his grandmater, a Roman matron in 
every sense of the word. Does grandmater put a memory charm on little 
Nevillus to make him forget?

Not if she, or those around her, are true Romans. Instead, they are 
more likely to emphasize that it is up to Nevillus to wipe out this 
blot on the honour of the Lombotommi, to emphasize the past for his 
benefit.

Does this scenario fit what we see in the books? Yes. I wouldn't be 
surprised if Gran and the rest of the clan desperately want Neville to 
be an auror. That's how it works in the Potterverse. Remember Draco 
Malfoy telling Harry that he'd want personal revenge on Black if he 
were in Harry's shoes? Leaving things to the police, as it were, 
seems to be a moral failure in the wizarding world. 

Taking Neville every year to see his parents? "Will you let this wrong 
 stay unrighted? Will you forget what has been done to us?"

And, personally, I don't think Neville very much wants to fulfil his 
destiny. He tries to supress his magic because he wants that as an 
excuse for not becoming the avenging son. 

Elkins wrote:
>So just what is it about Professor Snape -- ex-DE Snape, Snape who 
>is proud and vengeful and combatative, and who is obsessed with duty 
>and honor, Snape who looks like the very archetype of a Powerful 
>Sorceror, Snape who is the Head of House Slytherin, Snape who 
>appears in boggart form looking as if he may well be reaching for 
>his wand (even though he teaches a wandless subject), Snape in 
>whose class Neville keeps melting down his cauldrons, Snape who 
>is *onto* Neville and obviously doesn't believe this "I'm just 
>nearly a Squib" act for a second...
>What does this man represent to Neville Longbottom? Just what *is* 
>it about Snape that scares Neville so very much?

"Proud" "vengeful" "obsessed with duty and honour" "*onto* to Neville" 

Porphyria writes:
>Elkins points out all the ways in which Neville seems to lack 
>wizarding pride and refuses to take part in the obligation to grow 
>up big and strong and avenge his wronged parents. He goes out of 
>his way to make it look (and perhaps make himself believe) 
>that he's incapable of doing so. Snape OTOH is the very epitome 
>of exactly what Neville is trying to avoid being himself. Is 
>that what scares him? That Snape could be an image his fully 
>actualized self? And Snape has the gall to realize this?

Eileen nods her head.

Elkins again:
>> Maybe the image of Snape in Gran's clothing symbolizes more that we 
>> first suspected...
>Oooooooh, yes. I'm firmly of the belief that it does.

Under this scheme, Gran and Snape are firmly united. They are the 
ghost of Hamlet's father in this mixed-up rendition of the immortal 
play. But is the rest silence, or will this story end differently? 
Will Neville keep to his own way, or will his father's ghost send him 
to kill Claudius? And what will JKR's attitude towards Neville's 
choice be?

Elkins, are you afraid that JKR plans to have Neville cry, "From now 
on, let all my thoughts be bloody! Or nothing worth!" To fall into 
line with the warrior culture which he has resisted so far? If so, I 
now begin to see why you think JKR isn't on your side, or my side 
either. 

There is hope, however. Rowling has said that one of the students, but 
not one of the trio, will become a teacher at the end of the series. I 
think that would be a perfect ending for Neville. Still, all occasions 
do inform against us. 

Porphyria has an even worse theory about murder, murder most foul, as 
in the best it is, but this most foul, strange, and unnatural
>Hmmm. Maybe I'm way misinterpreting you here, but are you 
>suggesting that one might not have to go so far from the 
>Longbottom home to find an accessory to his parents torture?

The murderous DE grandmother: a little more than kin and less than 
kind.

>And I'd have to answer that the deadly problem within the 
>immediate family is a theme that keeps coming up over and over, 
>isn't it?

Yes, yes, it is. <snips canonical evidence> Things rank and gross in 
nature..... 

>Neville's memories would be traumatic, if he could access them. 
>There's the chance that if he can then we'll discover some 
>unspeakable scandal, far worse than corruption in the MOM which 
>we already know about.

Agreed. We already know that something is rotten in the state of 
Denmark. If Neville snaps out of the charm and yells, "Corrupt 
Cover-up," no-one will bat an eye. We have a right to expect 
something that will shake us up, like the moment Snape turns on Harry 
about James Potter or Dumbledore's "Severus Snape was a Death Eater."

Even if Gran did not torture the Longbottoms, did someone trade exact 
rectitude for a beter result, under the illusion that there's nothing 
good or bad but thinking makes it so? Does that person now muse to 
himself.

Then I'll look up;
My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer
Can serve my turn? 'Forgive me my foul murder'?
That cannot be; since I am still possess'd
Of those effects for which I did the murder,
My crown, mine own ambition and my queen.
May one be pardon'd and retain the offence?

>But Neville will manage to deal with it acceptably in the end. 
>The Hat did put him in Gryffindor, after all. :-)

For he was likely, had he been put on,
To have proved most royally:

>If the series in general revolves around Harry accepting his 
>legacy as a Potter, then maybe Neville is there to demonstrate 
>the refusal to accept a legacy, and just exactly why legacies 
>are such a dangerous and threatening things to have.

Oh, I hope so. But, my prophetic soul warns otherwise. There's just 
too many similarities to Hamlet. 

Eileen, who had suddenly connected Porphyria's "sordid secret theory" 
with the nick and gone in search of the following poem, which 
represents Browning at his most sordid and splendid, when Netscape 
crashed.

The rain set early in to-night, 
     The sullen wind was soon awake, 
It tore the elm-tops down for spite, 
     And did it's worst to vex the lake: 
     I listened with heart fit to break. 
When glided in Porphyria; straight 
     She shut the cold out and the storm, 
And kneeled and made the cheerless grate 
     Blaze up, and all the cottage warm; 
     Which done, she rose, and from her form 
Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl, 
     And laid her soiled gloves by , untied 
Her hat and let the damp hair fall, 
     And, last, she sat down by my side 
     And called me. When no voice replied, 
She put my arm around her waist, 
     And made her smooth white shoulder bare, 
And all her yellow hair displaced, 
     And, stooping, made my cheek lie there, 
     And spread, o'er all, her yellow hair, 
Murmuring how she loved me-she 
     Too weak, for all her heart's endeavor, 
     And give herself to me forever. 
But passion sometimes would prevail, 
     Nor could to-night's gay feast restrain 
A sudden thought of one so pale 
     For love of her, and all in vain: 
     So, she was come through wind and rain. 
be sure I looked up at her eyes 
     happy and proud; at last I knew 
Porphyria worshipped me: surprise 
     Made my heart swell, and still it grew 
     While I debated what to do. 
That moment she was mine, mine, fair, 
     Perfectly pure and good: I found 
A thing to do, and all her hair 
     In one long yellow string I wound 
     Three times her little throat around, 
And strangled her. No pain felt she; 
     I am quite sure she felt no pain. 
As a shut bud that holds a bee, 
     I warily oped her lids: again 
     Laughed the blue eyes without a stain. 
And I untightened next the tress 
     About her neck; her cheek once more 
Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss: 
     I propped her head up as before, 
     Only, this time my shoulder bore 
Her head, which droops upon it still: 
     The smiling rosy little head, 
So glad it has it's utmost will, 
     That all it scorned at once is fled, 
     And I, its love, am gained instead! 
Porphyria's lover: she guessed not how 
     Her darling one wish would be heard. 
And thus we sit together now, 
     And all night long we have not stirred, 
     And yet God has not said a word!