Order of the Phoenix: Page 555
The trajectory of Snape Death Eater rumors, Ron's dumb demand for proof, the shocking infrequence of Hogsmeade weekends, and whether Hermione has a responsibility to save Harry's relationship.
Welcome to Potter Pages! This week we cover a nicely alliterative page: Order of the Phoenix, page 555. It’s an emotional roller coaster of sorts, with a touch of dumb Ron banter and some Harry/Hermione emotional uncertainty. It’s a fun ride — strap in and enjoy yourself!
Note: I’ll be in Los Angeles starting next Wednesday as an audience participant in the HBOMax Harry Potter Trivia Special. Don’t be upset; this is how you know I’m a qualified expert. Thus, Potter Pages may be off next week — but maybe not. Be ready for anything.
you suspected Snape, and when have you ever been right? Dumbledore trusts him, he works for the Order, that ought to be enough.”
That’s how page 555 of Order of the Phoenix starts — a nice numerically-alliterative page — and as tends to happen in this newsletter, it’s a tad frustrating. We see the gist of the conversation, but we really don’t get the meat of where it’s been and what people are actually saying.
Hermione, obviously, is criticizing Ron for constantly spouting Death Eater rumors about Snape. The thing about Death Eater rumors about Snape is that they have a very strange trajectory in the series. I know this because I’ve been studying for my stint in the audience of the HBOMax Harry Potter Trivia special next week (yes, that’s happening, be ready), and I’ve seen the Snape Death Eater rumor rise and fall throughout the first two books in real time. Midway through Sorcerer’s Stone, after Harry sees the hooded figure drinking unicorn blood in the Forbidden Forest and Firenze explains to him what’s going on, Harry — who already thought Snape was after the stone, because of a series of coincidences combined with his general unpleasantness — starts believing that Snape is after the stone on Voldemort’s behalf. That, basically, is the first Snape Death Eater rumor. But after it’s debunked, the rumors go quiet until they start to reappear in Triwizard Tournament, when we see Dumbledore’s memory in the pensieve of Karkaroff naming names.
So the real Snape Death Eater rumors don’t actually start until midway through book four, and even then, they’re not very serious; everyone now knows that Snape used to be a Death Eater, but no one besides Ron and sometimes Harry (and the Death Eaters he’s deceiving) thinks he’s still one. For the second half of book four and all of book five, Snape-as-a-Death-Eater is basically a Ron and sometimes Harry conspiracy theory. The rumors reach their full potency in book six, when Harry notices that Snape and Malfoy are up to something sinister. Those rumors are helped along, of course, by a chapter near the beginning of the book in which we see Snape basically give a speech about how much of a Death Eater he is.
The main point here is this: there’s a lot less open speculation about whether or not Snape is a Death Eater than you might remember. It’s a key plotline in book one and book six, but that’s pretty much it as far as major plot relevance is concerned. In book five — which is where we are right now — Snape is still an important secondary character, but there’s never any sense that he’s going to fundamentally impact the plot. That is to say, he’s certainly important, but not quite on the level he’s going to reach in the next two books. And Snape as a Death Eater, for now, is just Ron muttering conspiracies, as seems to be proven by the end of the book, when Snape plays a major role in dispatching the Order to rescue the group from the Department of Mysteries. For now, Snape is just unpleasant: he’s not yet an actual villain.
Ron, of course, isn’t convinced. “He used to be a Death Eater,” Ron says. “And we’ve never seen proof that he really swapped sides.”
You know how Ron is sometimes dumb? This is one of those times. “We’ve never seen proof that he really swapped sides” — what does that mean? What could this “proof” look like? Ron only has one piece of evidence to support the theory that Snape is still a Death Eater: he used to be one. That’s not much, as evidence goes. The theory is mostly just based on Snape being a mean guy. Snape is in the Order of the Phoenix, he’s worked at Hogwarts for 14 years, Dumbledore trusts him, and Ron has already seen Snape work against Quirrell, who actually was a Voldemort supporter. “Snape is a Death Eater” is a completely valid gut feeling for Ron to have, since Snape is unpleasant and we know he has past ties to the group. But to act as though the burden of proof is still on Snape to show that he’s really come over to their side is ridiculous, because it’s not a burden of proof that can be met in any practical way. It’s a gut feeling, but it’s not evidence-based.
What is Ron looking for? A notarized letter signed by Snape that says “I’ve really swapped sides”? An unbreakable vow that Snape has taken to oppose Voldemort? An emotional breakdown wherein Snape admits the error of his ways? Here’s the thing — all of those could have happened already. In fact, one or two of them actually have. As Harry will memorably point out in an internal monologue in book seven, Dumbledore and Ron have never been alone together. Why does Ron think that he, Ronald Bilius Weasley, slug burper, would somehow have access to confidential proof that Snape had defected from the Death Eaters?
Theoretically, Hermione’s upcoming argument that “Dumbledore trusts him” could be an example of the “appeal to authority” fallacy, which would be a point in Ron’s favor. But here, in the absence of much concrete information about Snape, it should actually be a big deal. Ron knows that Dumbledore is a smart guy. He knows that Dumbledore is very into keeping Harry safe and defeating Voldemort. Having seen that Dumbledore has kept Snape around all these years, it makes complete sense to assume that the proof he’s looking for already exists, and that Dumbledore has seen it.
That’s Hermione’s line of thinking, anyway. “Dumbledore trusts him,” she says. “And if we can’t trust Dumbledore, we can’t trust anyone.” This point actually works on multiple levels. First, of course, Hermione is saying that the trio should trust Dumbledore because he’s trustworthy and intelligent, which is simple enough and probably true. Second, though, Hermione seems to be simultaneously making a different argument: either A) there’s something inherently morally good about trusting others, and if fighting against Voldemort has ruined Ron’s trust in Dumbledore, the most trustworthy guy there is, then Voldemort has already won and the fight is barely worth it, or B) trusting Dumbledore is a practical imperative, because if Dumbledore himself isn’t trustworthy, then no one is, and literally everything the trio hears might be a lie, so it makes more sense to just gamble on the hope that what Dumbledore says is true.
It’s sort of like if you’re marching into battle and you start to get nervous as your general turns your army onto a new path, one you didn’t expect to take. Why should you trust your general? For one, you should trust your general because you’ve gotten to know him and he seems like a trustworthy guy. But there are other reasons too. First, you should trust him because you want to be able to trust people, because trust is part of a full moral life, and if you can’t trust him then maybe you’re losing your ability to trust altogether. Second, the only practical decision is to trust your general. If you decide you no longer trust him, then every order he gives for the rest of the battle will have to be taken with a grain of salt, examined and debated, which will obviously make your battle harder to win. To be clear, this doesn’t mean General Dumbledore is always right. What it does mean is that he’s right often enough that it makes practical sense to treat him as though he is always right. If you just do whatever Dumbledore says without hesitation, you’ll do the right thing most of the time, and you’ll always know what to do. If you decide you don’t trust Dumbledore, by contrast, and you take extra time to figure out whether or not he’s right, maybe you’ll make a few better moves than Dumbledore would have made. But that will come with two huge costs. First, you’ll have a huge time and urgency disadvantage, since nothing will be instant; everything will need to be researched and figured out. Second, you’re not as smart as Dumbledore, so for every decision you get right, you’ll likely get more than one wrong.
I have a friend who likes to say that he believes in aggregation of data almost to a fault. That’s basically what’s going on here. Dumbledore is smarter than you. He’s especially smarter than Ron. Statistically speaking, that means he’ll be right much more often than you (and Ron!), which means you should just do as he says. And now, wow — we’ve gotten off track here.
From there, the page jumps ahead, and we get a glance into the lives of the fifth-years. They’re getting startling amounts of homework, and also having regular DA meetings; Harry is also meeting with Snape regularly for occlumency lessons. January, we see, is passing alarmingly fast, and soon it’s February, time for the second Hogsmeade weekend of the year.
Does anyone else feel like this is just far too few Hogsmeade weekends? When Harry first gets his Hogsmeade form in book three, it says “students are permitted to visit the village on weekends.” What it absolutely doesn’t say is that this is only true for like two to three days a year. Why can’t students fifth-year and up visit the village every weekend? Or every other weekend? Or even one weekend a month? It’s literally the sixth month of school, and the students are getting to leave campus for the second day. That’s a shockingly low rate of Hogsmeade weekends.
Part of it is probably that Hogsmeade weekends are hard to write. You can only make so many jokes about Fred and George going to Zonko’s, Ron trying to catch the eye of Madam Rosmerta, Filch being overly dramatic about signing people out, etc. J.K. Rowling has said that she just couldn’t figure out how to keep writing Quidditch scenes and making them all different; maybe this is something like that. But that’s still easily fixable: just throw in a line here and there like “Harry had so much homework that weekend that he couldn’t even take the monthly trip to Hogsmeade.” Rowling doesn’t do that at all. Instead, she expressly says that this trip is only the second one of the year. The students are pretty much imprisoned at Hogwarts. It’s a bit extreme.
Harry has barely talked to Cho since they agreed to go out on Valentine’s Day — always a sign of a healthy relationship — but now he’s got a full day with her in the village. There’s a line in here that I love: “On the morning of the 14th he dressed particularly carefully.” It’s relatable — who among us hasn’t dressed very carefully for an important date? — but it’s also very vague. What in the world does Harry Potter wear when he’s dressing particularly carefully? Rowling doesn’t tell us. Indeed, we never really see much of Harry’s fashion sense, since pretty much the only times we hear about his clothes are when they’re ridiculous hand-me-downs from Dudley. We’re left to imagine it.
So, what is Harry wearing on this date? I can picture it, in my mind’s eye: dark blue jeans, black sneakers (“trainers”), a tailored-style t-shirt, a zip-up Gryffindor sweater, and a sort of vaguely militaristic overcoat that I would have found ridiculously cool when I was 15, but now would just find a little ridiculous. Did I just insert myself a little too much into the story? Absolutely, I did. Of course, this all depends on whether Harry has ever taken it upon himself to revamp his wardrobe, because if not, the point is moot: he can dress as carefully as he wants, but Cho isn’t going to like his appearance if he’s wearing Dudley’s old XXL orange polo shirt.
Harry (dressed carefully) and Ron arrive at breakfast and see Hermione opening a letter from an unfamiliar owl. With the benefit of hindsight, of course, we know that we’re basically seeing Harry’s relationship with Cho end before it begins, and that we’ll soon see a very funny scene in which Harry pretty much begs Hermione to explain how women think. Hermione reads the message; she’s happy with what she reads. Then she asks Harry if he can meet her in The Three Broomsticks around midday.
In this section, honestly, I’m of two minds. On the one hand, it’s obviously not Hermione’s job to manage Harry’s relationship or to make sure his date goes smoothly. Harry is his own person. He’s somewhat intelligent. He should be able to go a few hours without making a complete fool of himself. On the other hand, though, Hermione has seen how he’s handling his first taste of a relationship; she’s seen how little emotional intelligence he and Ron have. Throughout the book, she’s also yelled at Ron several times for interfering in Harry and Cho’s conversations.
So is Hermione at fault here? It’s tough, but I think I come down on the side of yes...a little. Harry and Cho were headed for disaster from the moment they turned into Madam Puddifoots, but Hermione still could have given Harry some very simple advice. “Make sure Cho doesn’t feel neglected; tell her you don’t want to meet me but I made you promise.” Done and done. That’s all Hermione has to say: Harry’s obviously going to listen to any advice she gives him, and with those few words, maybe she salvages a little of the day. Like I said, though, Harry and Cho weren’t going to work. It was never going to happen. Cho’s got some things going on that are far too much for Harry to handle, and Harry is too much of an emotional teaspoon for Cho to handle.
As the page ends, Harry responds to Hermione’s question in the most Harry way possible. “Well, I dunno,” he says. “Cho might be expecting me to spend the whole day with her. We never said what we were going to do.”
Here’s when it sort of becomes a moral imperative for Hermione to offer some kind of advice. To all intelligent onlookers, including Hermione, this date is officially headed for trouble, especially if Hermione doesn’t add context to her request to meet around midday. It’s very clear that Harry has no idea how to handle himself in this situation, and Hermione is probably the only person who can do anything close to fixing it. “With great power comes great responsibility,” they say, and right now, Hermione is the only person in the conversation who has the great power of being emotionally mature. But she doesn’t use it. Just like Dumbledore, Harry has a moral imperative to trust Hermione, because she’s right far more often than he is — but this time, she says nothing. Harry’s trust in her ultimately brings down his first brief relationship...and given the Hogsmeade Weekend schedule, it’ll be months before he has a chance for another one.