[TBAY] Re: ontongeny recapitulates philogeny? (long, I'm afraid)

[or.phan_ann]

No: HPFGUIDX 170432

> Bart:
> My conclusion from the evidence is that, among the factors the
> Sorting Hat considers, the student's preference is one.

Ann:
I agree with this theory. I disagree with your examples, not seeing
why Cedric should have been a Gryffindor, but asking people which
House they think they'd fit into seems wise to me. Note that the
Sorting Hat didn't mention a House for Harry until he mentioned
Slytherin, though it didn't ask him per se. Your Hermione theory is
rather dodgier, in my opinion...

<"((>< <"((>< <"((>< <"((>< <"((>< <"((>< <"((><

Ann blinks, fairly sure she hadn't been here a moment before, and
very sure that she hadn't a scroll, a hammer, and a bag of nails in
her hands. But here she is, she admits, by the shore of a large bay.
Several boats bob somewhat despondently on its clear blue waters,
while along the shore itself are a row of buildings - a pub, a
boathouse, something proclaiming itself the Canon Museum, and others.
They seem pleasant enough, though there's rather a lot of rubbish
around - she frowns at what looks like a paperweight in the form of a
cannon and crosses her arms. Something is wrong, and she can't quite
put her finger on it. Then she realises that the place is absolutely
silent. There aren't even any seagulls around.

Pocketing the paperweight, she walks off the beach, and onto the
street. 'Hello?' she calls. Nobody replies. She looks up and down the
street, and begins to walk, shivering in the silence. It's like a
ghost town, she thinks.

As she passes the open doors of the Canon Museum something falls to
the ground with a crash. She jumps, then peers inside. It's a tall,
wide room, filled with all kinds of things - cannonballs, paintings,
trophies, mirrors, broomsticks flying around the ceiling. Something
like a large orrery has spilt clockwork across the floor. In one
corner is a three-headed dog, barking in triplicate.

'Hello there!' says a woman emerging through a door at the back. She
puts something on a table and begins scooping up the clockwork. 'One
of my favourites, this. Come in. What kind of theory have you got for
me?'

'Theory?' Ann looks down at her hands. The scroll is clearly
labelled "Message no. 170393". She unfurls it, reads, and realises
what she has to do. 'You must be Faith,' she says. 'Forgive me. I'm
new here. Do you have a door?'

Five minutes later, she drops the hammer back in her pocket. Message
170393 is nailed to the door of the back room marked "Snape is a
Vampire". After all, as Faith had said, no-one came down here any
more. Ann points to the message, and explained, 'It's the business
with Hermione I'm sceptical about. It seems a little far-fetched.'

'Then you'll be wanting this,' says Faith, handing her a glasses case
which is the "Property of Fr. William". Inside is a cut-throat razor.
Ann grins.

'Cut all this,' she mutters. 'Now, does Hermione really seem like a
Ravenclaw to you? Bart says she plans things before doing them.'

'That's true enough,' says Faith. 'Who does all the legwork for the
Second Task?'

'Oh yes, but saying Gryffindors can't plan anything? And Dumbledore
is a Gryffindor, isn't he? Show me a bigger plotter than him. Or how
Luna plans and considers everything before she does it. And why would
a Muggle-born want to be in Gryffindor?'

'Well, you can't expect most Muggle-borns to know the intricacies of
the Sorting system.'

'Exactly. Hermione knows about the Houses, and she knows Dumbledore
was in Gryffindor. That strikes me as being a reason to want to be in
Gryffindor. Again, Ravenclaw: could Luna and Hermione be more
different?'

'You agree that Harry's career was a little stage managed, though,
don't you?'

'Oh yes, but I blame Rowling for that more than Dumbledore. Imagine
the end of PS/SS if they hadn't been able to get past the Devil's
Snare, for instance. Dumbledore did some stage managing himself, too.
But suggesting that he planned Harry to make particular friends?' She
slashes at the message. A strip of parchment falls to the floor.

'How did Dumbledore know what Number Four was like for Harry? Annual
reports from Mrs Figg? And if so, why not do something about it? Did
he want Harry to grow up like that? Most people identify with victims
as against bullies anyway.' More slashing. 'And why would Dumbledore
urgently want to meet Arthur Weasley when the Order of the Phoenix
was dormant? And how did he arrange for Harry to turn up when he did?
Isn't an accident more likely?' She slashes again.

'But Neville and Harry do have rather a lot in common,' says Faith
slyly.

'Oh yes,' says Ann. 'I can believe that Dumbledore thought they would
become friends. But why would Harry befriend Ron rather than Dean,
whose life was much more like his? Now, here I have a really good
bit. Bart says:

> Even at age 10, Hermione showed herself to be highly intelligent,
> and quite capable of doing research (how many purebloods and half-
> bloods knew as much as she did, coming in?). Also, a shrewd
> observer. And, she knew a bit too much about Harold and Mort (oh,
> dear, I do hope that Harry doesn't stage a fake death in TDH), even
> based on her summer studies.

Ann stares at it in triumph. 'Who says Hermione knows "a bit too
much" about Voldemort? Why should this make her a good pawn for
Dumbledore when he treats Harry as special from the first Christmas
on? And doesn't this entirely contradict his argument about Hermione
not knowing anything about the Houses?' A particularly self-satisfied
swing at the door, this.

'My, you're petty. But I admit, that's a good point.'

'Thank you. For my next trick, I point to Bart's post again:

> In OOP, Minnie the Cat, when told by Harry his analysis of the
> Pink Dolly's opening lecture, remarks, approvingly, that he's been
> listening to Hermione.

Ann grins. 'He even admits it's guesswork. But after four years,
wouldn't McGonagall know Hermione's more attentive than Harry? Can
you see any evidence that Hermione was told to join Gryffindor purely
to help Harry?'

Most of the bottom half of the message lies on the floor; the bottom
paragraph, unsupported, has fallen of its own accord. 'Well, no,'
says Faith, 'but it was only a guess. There was no need to be so
violent about it. You've ruined my door.'

'Well, you were the one who says nobody comes down here any more.'
Ann hands her Ockham's Razor and picks up the bits of parchment lying
on the floor. 'Do you recycle these or use them as kindling?'

'Neither,' says Faith. 'We read them. And since you've ruined this
one, you'd better get busy sewing it back together. Apart from
anything else, George won't have seen it yet.'

Ann