TBAY: MACHINGARMCHAIR nad the Ever So Frustrating Egg

[charisjulia]

No: HPFGUIDX 39179

Eloise quoted me saying:


> "Neville," Charis concludes happily closing the book with a 
snap, "has Post—Traumatic Stress >Disorder! He's Spell—Shocked."
>
<snip>
>
> Sooooo, every loud noise makes his mind leap automatically to the 
> Cruciatus. He can't help it. And especially after that nice little 
> reminder of his parents torment courtesy of Monsieur Crouch which 
> made all those old memories resurface with a vengeance.
> 
> 
> Of course this theory only works if Neville is * not* under a 
Memory 
> 


And then she countered:

>OTOH, I'm not so sure about this.
<snip>
>
>But what chiefly intrigues me is at what level the memory is wiped. 
In fact, 
>*is* it wiped, or merely suppressed?
>If memory charms merely *suppress* memory, then Neville might not be 
affected 
>on a day-to-day basis by the trauma he suffered as an infant, yet it 
might be 
>re-awakened in his subconscious by something such as the egg's 
wailing.
>


Hmmm, well, no, sorry, I'm going to have to remain adamant here. The 
idea the Neville is labouring under some kind of state of shock can 
only work if we assume that he does in fact have a very clear memory 
of the night his parents were Crucio—ed. If he doesn't, well, very 
simply he doesn't have anything to be shocked * about*. I mean, what? 
Did Neville just suddenly get a subconscious blast when he heard the 
egg, leading to some kind of a Freudian slip so that he inadvertently 
blurts out "It was someone being tortured!" and them recovers and 
goes "Gee, did I just say that? Huh, fancy that! Where * do* I come 
up with these crazy ideas? Oy, you there, hand me another one of them 
custard creams will you?"


Errr, though, actually this is exactly what he does do, isn't it? 
Ooops. Huh.


Ah, but the point still holds. If Neville does not have any memory of 
the incident because of the Memory Charm set on him or whatever, then 
his reaction would not be such an emotional one neither in Moody's 
class nor at the Gryffindor common room. When seeing the spider one 
would expect him to be * less* affected than Harry, who at least has 
green light and screaming, and when hearing the wailing he might—if 
his subconscious * did* kick in (and why should it if we are all in 
agreement that the egg does * not* sound like people under Crucio) – 
he might halt a sec, sausage held midair, he might tilt his head 
slightly sideways and raise his eyebrows in mild curiosity, he might 
think "Now * where* did that sinking feeling come on from?", but he 
needn't go around blanching and dropping food. That just doesn't work 
for me. It somehow would seem excessive.


OTOH, if you've got your Neville with a strong Memory Potion seeping 
through his veins, far from being excessive, his behaviour is 
restrained. He is initially taken aback upon hearing from an external 
source a noise he so strongly associates with his parents agony, but 
quickly he realises his mistake and that he's gone and made a bit of 
a bit of a prat of himself as Fred delicately puts it, not to mention 
almost revealed his great, big, scary secret and so proceeds to plays 
it cool by biting into a custard cream with feigned unconcern, all 
his previous anxiety apparently dissolved. And when the custard cream 
actually turns out to be a * canary* cream he laughs good—humouredly 
along with the rest because he's actually * relieved* to have 
attention centred somewhere other than that awful egg. After all 
posing as a bird for a few moments for your friends amusement is * 
nothing* compared to spilling your guts out in front of the whole 
house.


OK, so you can take or leave that last part. But do you see my point? 
JKR as a rule hardly ever has her characters overacting. Quite to the 
contrary: from Harry almost all the time to Remus and Sirius's brief 
and to—the –point reconciliation, her heroes rarely indulge in 
emotional outbursts even when fully entitled to them. And, what's 
more, Neville in particular sure has done a great job up till now of 
hiding his skeleton—in—the—family—closet. I'm thinking this boy ought 
to be a past master at restraining his emotions. It must take 
something really Big (and Bangy!) to make him let go. At least 
something * much* bigger than "Ooo, hang on. . . deja vue flash. . ."

Eloise continued:


>Another point I'd like to make is that even if Neville has no 
*memory* of the 
>events (and it would seem unlikely anyway, given his very young age 
at the 
>time, memory charm or no), or no conscious trauma caused by them, he 
still 
>*knows* what happened. He *knows* his parents were tortured; he has 
to see 
>the results every holiday. This is traumatic in itself. He doesn't 
have to 
>*remember* witnessing the Cruciatus performed on his parents to make 
>connections.
>

Yeah, but that's the * boring* explanation! It's the obvious thought 
that pops into you're head when you find out about the Longbottoms 
family history in the Pensieve scene. Surely there must be more to it 
than that?! Otherwise what are we all doing here? ;--)


I wrote:

>
>> Sooooo, every loud noise makes his mind leap automatically to the 
>> Cruciatus. He can't help it. And especially after that nice little 
>> reminder of his parents torment courtesy of Monsieur Crouch which 
>> made all those old memories resurface with a vengeance.
>

And Cindy wondered:


>Ah, but *why*? *Why* does Neville liken the Egg's wail to torture?


And she immediately went on to answer her own question by offering 
two separate explanations:


Take One:

>The first option is that Neville reacts the way he does because of 
>those dreaded visits to his parents at St. Mungos. What do his 
>parents likely *do* during those visits? Well, that depends on 
>whether you want a Bang or not.
>
>If you want a Bang (as I surely do), then they *wail*, that's what 
>they do! They are insane, Dumbledore tells us. They do not 
>recognize Neville. Fair enough.
>
>But what is the most Bangy scenario we can think of to explain what 
>the Longbottoms might actually *do* during those visits? Having 
>them lie quietly in their beds, staring at the ceiling, being rolled 
>over every hour on the hour, is a total Dud. 
>
>No, they need to *wail*, just like the Egg. Loudly. They sit up, 
>clutching their knees, rocking back and forth, wailing loudly pretty 
>much non-stop. Heck, if you really want a Huge Bang, we can decide 
>that the closer Neville comes, the more loudly they wail.


Yeah, this might work. I actually quite like it. And Neville 
associates the wailing sound with the casting of Cruciatus because in 
Neville's mind the wailing is exactly the * result* of Crucio. But 
then you've got to content with the fact that what Neville says upon 
hearing the egg is "It was somebody being tortured!" instead of "It 
was somebody who * has* been tortured!". But then again we've already 
established that Neville's not quite thinking straight there. He's 
just getting a bit confused poor lad, that's all. If he'd stopped to 
think about it a bit longer he'd `ave got the tense right, all right. 
Yeah, that's all.


Take Two:


>It could simply be that the character of the Egg's wail changes for 
>each person hearing it. The noise is is what it is, but each person 
>hears something deeply and subjectively unpleasant. For Harry, it 
>is the ghost orchestra. For Seamus, it is the banshee. For George, 
>it is annoying Percy. For Filch, it is a "racket" -- the kind of 
>irritating noise mischievous students make. For me, it would be the 
>voice of Gilderoy Lockhart. And for Neville . . . well, for 
>Neville, it is those horrid visits to his wailing parents. 
>
>Heck, if we decide the Egg's wail is subjective, then we can really 
>destroy the Egg argument. Neville really *might* be hearing his 
>parents tortured cries again, even though it doesn't sound like that 
>to anyone else. And what freaks him out is not the sound -- he has 
>heard that a million times. It is the fact that the sound isn't 
>inside his own head this time -- and that *is* something new, 
>different and frightening. Good reason to drop a plate of sausages, 
>I'd say.
>
>And what, BTW, is the canon for the idea that the Egg's wail might 
>affect each listener differently? Gee, is there anything we've seen 
>so far that objects each person differently? Ah, but of course! 
>Dementors and boggarts!


And don't forget the Mirror of Erised. Nor—yup, that's right--- nor 
the Egg itself.


Here. Now lets forget about the * sound* of the Egg ok? How about we 
concentrate on it's * meaning* instead? Because all that wailing, 
err,  screechy, err, rackety, err, singing (see where my problems 
identifying exactly what the noise sounds like come from? I agree 
nobody's mentioned screaming or yelling or whatever till now, but the 
other sounds are hardly compatible, are they? really does mean 
something if you listen to it the right way:


"We've taken what you'll sorely miss"


Again another highly individualised message. If Boggarts are a 
person's greatest fear, Dementors their worst memory and their 
reflection in the Mirror their most burning desire, then the 
interpretation of the eggs rhyme would give us their most beloved 
object and subsequently the egg's threat would be that person's worst 
idea of the future, what –on an individual level, world domination by 
arch—enemies wouldn't count—would simply make life really * 
miserable* for the listener. So the noise the egg makes might be a 
conversion into sound of the way that individual would feel were the 
dreaded scenario that's put into words if you open the egg underwater 
to become a reality. And of course this sound would differ from 
individual to individual because not everybody agrees on what exactly 
is the most insufferable noise ever heard.


Having said all that however I must admit I fail to see how the loss 
of Ron would be connected in Harry's mind with the musical saws. 
Hmmm. <thinks a bit> Oh, yes, but it's obvious of course! <hits 
forehead with hand> If Ron drowns ghosts will play the musical saws 
at * his* deathday party! Crystal clear really.


Charis Julia, who thinks she would like to confront a Boggart, a 
Dementor and the Mirror just once `cos she really has no idea what 
her greatest fear, memory or desire are. Ah, well.