OVERANALYZING THE TEXT

In a darkened lecture hall deep within the bowels of the Canon Museum, the battle rages on. Elkins, pale and drawn with exhaustion, wipes her brow with a retracted yellow flag. Cindy reclines in her seat, Zwieback and juice box at her side, Big Paddle at the ready. The hiss from the nearby steam tunnels blends imperceptibly with the sound of Eloise's snores.

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"Let's tackle the Egg first," Cindy offers. "What's the problem there?"

Elkins, her voice hoarse and cracked from so many hours of uninterrupted speaking, leans heavily against the podium. She raises her glass to take a sip of water, only to discover that she ran out hours ago. She places the glass back down on the lectern. She sighs.

"The problem with the Egg," she repeats wearily. "Right. The problem with the Egg is that it sounds like wailing. It sounds like a musical saw. Seamus thinks that it sounds like a banshee. But what it does not sound like is a person in pain. Neville thinks that it does. If Neville really could remember his parents' torture, as the Reverse Memory Charm theory suggests, then he wouldn't make that error. Reverse Memory Charm therefore cannot hold. Quod erat effing demonstrandum."

Cindy smiles lazily.

"Welllll," she drawls, with a kind of ghastly bonhomie. "I have some personal experience in this area. Over the years, I have tortured many people within an inch of their lives, and if you go at it just right, if you really know what you're doing, once they stop saying actual words and stop with all the begging, they do in fact make this freakish high-pitched squeal that sounds exactly..."

Cindy stops abruptly, frowning. A dead silence has fallen over the room. Naama, careful to avoid meeting anyone's eyes, gathers up her things quickly but quietly and moves back towards the emergency exit. Cindy glances at her briefly, then back at Elkins, who has gone a trifle pale. She smiles.

"People, people, people!" she laughs. "The Egg is Not A Problem for MATCHINGARMCHAIR."

"Um." Elkins fiddles nervously with the papers in front of her. "Um. Yes. Well. I'm, uh, sure that we're all very pleased, Cindy—really, really very pleased and very, er, grateful—to have been given the opportunity to, uh, learn something new here tonight. But all the same, I really do think that—"

"The Egg's wail is described as "the most horrible noise,'" Cindy points out. "'A loud and screechy wailing" like the ghost orchestra at Nearly Headless Nick's deathday party playing musical saws. When Harry opens the Egg in the bathtub, the wailing, screeching sound is described as 'incomprehensible.' When Harry drops it on the stairs, it again is said to sound like 'wailing.'"

"Yes." Elkins nods, just a bit too fervently. "Yes, well, all right then. Let's just take a look at that word choice, shall we?"

"The Egg wails," she agrees. "That is the primary descriptor of the sound that it makes. JKR uses it twice. So where in canon do we see people 'wailing?'

"Well, Hermione wails, doesn't she? She wails quite often. But whenever we see her 'wailing,' it is always a bit of hyperbole that JKR is using to convey her exasperation. She wails when she is objecting to something, or when she is throwing her hands up in the air at the boys' stupidity, or when she is making some despairing comment or other. But one time that she never wails? Hermione does not wail when she is in pain."

Elkins bangs her palm down on the lectern for emphasis, then winces.

"Ow," she mutters. "In fact," she continues, massaging her wrist. "In fact, nobody does. Wailing is just not what people in the Potterverse do when they are in pain. It's certainly not what we ever see anyone do under the Cruciatus Curse. Cedric 'yells,' and Harry 'screams,' and Avery 'shrieks.' Pettigrew does a lot of sobbing. But nobody ever wails.

"So," she concludes, "while it may indeed be the case that in your, uh, real-life experience, people can indeed be reduced to incomprehensible wailing by, uh, by long-term exposure to excruciating agony, I really do think that in order to evaluate this as a speculation, we need to go by JKR's own word choices, and the fact remains that in the Potterverse—"

"And what does the cry of the tiny Jobberknoll sound like?" Cindy interrupts hurredly. "'A long scream made up of every sound it ever heard, regurgitated backward.' Gee, that might sound a lot like a horrible noise, a loud and screechy wailing that would be incomprehensible."

"What?" Elkins stares at her. "What? You...Oh. Oh, right, yes, I see. So Neville's great and glorious Reverse Memory Charm doesn't even lead him to remember his parents being tortured? All he's got is this memory of some bird being strangled? Oh, yeah." She snorts. "That's very exciting, Cindy. Real Bangy."

"The Egg's screeching," Cindy continues, through gritted teeth. "The Egg's screeching sounds to Neville just like the death scream of the Jobberknoll. No wonder poor Neville likens it to the sound of someone being tortured! The Jobberknoll death rattle is what Neville is reacting to in that scene in GoF, not the actual cries of his parents, which would be plenty comprehensible."

"You just said yourself that they wouldn't be comprehensible!" objects Elkins. "Not five minutes ago, Cindy. You said that—" She shakes her head. "Oh, for God's sake. This is just ludicrous. Right. Okay. So what's your answer to the Dementor problem, then? 'Cause I gotta tell you, I just can't wait to hear this one."

Cindy narrows her eyes at this, but when she speaks, her tone is remarkably civil.

"Ah," she says. "That's not a problem either, because that is exactly as it should be. I challenge the premise that Neville should have a more severe reaction than Harry. Neville watched his parents tortured, not killed. He still goes to see them. And nothing in canon suggests that Neville's life was ever in danger that night."

Elkins stares. Her mouth opens and shuts soundlessly, making her look for all the world like one of those salt-water carp which can occasionally be found stranded at low-tide in the rocky pools of Theory Bay.

"Harry and Ginny react more than Neville to the dementor on the train," concludes Cindy cheerfully, "because they both survived near-death experiences at the hands of Voldemort, whereas Neville merely witnessed an atrocity."

"I...I...I..." Elkins shakes her head rapidly, like a dog shaking off water. "I..." She takes a very deep breath. "ARE YOU COMPLETELY OUT OF YOUR MIND?" she shrieks, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she has just slipped into one of her very least favorite aspects of JKR's chosen idiom. "WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? ARE YOU INSANE? YOU THINK THAT A COUPLE OF ABRUPTLY-CUT OFF SCREAMS AND A RUSHING NOISE AND A FLASH OF GREEN LIGHT IS A WORSE MEMORY THAN—"

"Nah." Cindy grins. "The Dementor on the train is no trouble. No trouble at all. So . . . will you convert, Elkins? A deal's a deal, right?"

"Con..convert?" splutters Elkins. "Convert? On the basis of those arguments? On the basis of those, those ridiculous displays of...of, of, of, of sophistry, of pure and utter...you can...you think that I'm actually going to—"

Elkins stops suddenly, her mouth still open. She blinks, twice. Then she begins to laugh. She collapses over her podium, giggling hysterically. Cindy, suspicious, narrows her eyes.

"Oh!" gasps Elkins, at length. "Oh, yes. Yes, yes. I see. Dear Cindy." She shakes her head. "Cindy, Cindy, Cindy."

Cindy stops gnawing on her Zwieback. She wipes the sodden cracker from her lips, frowning.

"It's all right, Cindy," Elkins tells her. "It's okay. I really do think I understand. But you know, it's not the end of the world when this happens. Really it's not. It's very simple, really. All you need to do here is to say these four little words. That's all. Four words. 'I.' 'Concede.' 'The.' 'Point.' It really doesn't hurt, you know, to say those four little words. Trust me: I ought to know. Heaven knows I've said them often enough myself. And besides," she adds, apparently not noticing the dangerous throbbing that has started up in the vein in Cindy's right temple. "You didn't really want to run with that Reverse Memory Charm thing anyway, you know. I mean, sure, it was kind of cute and all, but even aside from the fact that it was canonically indefensible on far less subtle grounds, it wasn't even ever all that Bangy, now, was it?"

Cindy stares at her. Her knuckles whiten on her paddle.

"What?" she whispers. "What did you just say to me?"

"The Reverse Memory Charm," Elkins repeats helpfully. "It was actually never all that Bangy to begin with. It didn't offer any opportunities for a Great Character-changing Catalyst, or for a Shocking Revelation, or for a Mind-Blowing Plot Twist, or for an Oscar-worthy Cinematic Moment, or any of that. In fact," she concludes. "In fact, I don't think that the Reverse Memory Charm ever belonged on the Big Bang Destroyer at all. I say that it's a Dud, and should be stowed away in the hold until it can prove its merit."

There is a brief silence.

"Oh lord," Debbie murmers, and slides down very low in her seat. Avery, sitting next to her, nods grimly to himself and Disapparates.

"What," Cindy demands, her voice pitched dangerously low. "Is the meaning of this? Did I hear correctly? Is this an ill-conceived mutiny on the Big Bang Destroyer? A blatant attempt to throw the Captain into the brig, MATCHINGARMCHAIR and all?"

"Well, actually," Elkins begins. "Technically, you know, Cindy, since I don't think that I was ever actually a crew-member of the Big Bang destroyer, I don't really think that this can properly be called a—"

"It has come to this, has it? This challenge -- from the Captain of the Fourth Man Hovercraft of all things! The Hovercraft that is in such bad condition, such disrepair, that it is coated in foul seagull droppings. The Hovercraft that has been left to drift, rudderless, as Judy, Debbie and even Eileen's brother attempt to capsize it just for the sport of it?"

Elkins recoils as if slapped. Two spots of red appear high on her cheekbones.

"Oh, now, hey!" she objects indignantly. "Hey, now, come on. I mean, just hold on. You know perfectly well that I couldn't possibly have gone anywhere near that hovercraft, not back then, not with all of those canonical villains still out there gunning for me and Avery. Didn't you read message #36675? I mean, I was a marked woman, Cindy. Surely you didn't honestly expect me to hang around just waiting for trouble? And besides, it's not as if I hadn't already provided Fourth Man with plenty of canon to—"

"And now," Cindy sneers. "Now Elkins, the Captain of the pitiful, neglected Hovercraft, dares declare which theories belong on the Big Bang Destroyer?! Oh, this is far worse than spraypainted graffiti, far worse than the odd seashell tossing, far worse than murdering Pig, Erroll and Hedwig. . . . This time, Elkins has gone Too Far!"

Cindy launches herself out of her seat. Eloise's pet hedgehog dives under her chair. Naama swings open the emergency exit. Elkins gulps and grips the edges of her lectern, hard.

"Oh, wow," says Stoned!Harry, fumbling to prepare his Shield Charm. "Guys, like, maybe you should just chill out, yeah? I mean, like, it's only a children's boo—"

"Let me tell you something!" screams Cindy, spit flying from the corners of her lips. "I have been Banging since before you were born! I am the Queen of Banging!"

Stoned!Harry starts to giggle idiotically. Elkins closes her eyes, but thankfully, Cindy seems not to have noticed.

"Reverse Memory Charm Neville is Bangy if I say he is!" she shrieks.

"If you say he is?" Elkins opens her eyes again. "If you say he is?" she repeats incredulously. "What, you're claiming for yourself the right to redefine Bang whenever it suits your purposes now? Bang is no longer a means of evaluating canonical plausibility? It's now a matter of pure personal preference? You're...you're what? You're Humpty Dumptying the Bangs?"

"Humpty Dumptying the Bangs?" repeats Debbie blankly from her seat. Nobody pays her any mind.

"And I can prove it!" yells Cindy, waving her paddle wildly in the air. "What's the future Bang with every one of the Memory Charm Neville variants? Hmmmm? That the Charm will be removed? And? So? What? Neville cries his little eyes out when he finally remembers what happened? He gets a little snippy with Gran? He sleeps past noon for a few days? That's it? That's all you've got?"

"But, but, but," Elkins objects. "But that's not what Bang means. It's...and besides," she continues, her voice now rising to something very like a yell itself. "Didn't you even listen to my symposium? Weren't you even paying attention? Of course they have Bang! They all give you an abrupt character change based on a catalytic plot event! And they're cinematic, too! They're plenty cinematic! Which precise cinematic effect you get from the Big Bang all depends on which one you go for!" She steps out from behind her podium, brandishing a handful of papers. "Look," she says. "Just look. There's—"

"Well, I'll have you know that with Reverse Memory Charm Neville, we get multiple Bangs," interrupts Cindy. "We get a huge scene where Harry finally asks Neville about what happened the night the Longbottoms were tortured and Neville tells the whole gruesome tale in excruciating detail."

Elkins pauses, half-way down the steps of the platform. Her lip curls in disdain.

"Oh," she sneers. "Oh, yes, I see. This is now Cindy's idea of Bang, is it? This is the Great and Powerful Captain Cindy's idea of an Exciting Cinematic Moment?

"Dialogue?

"Dialogue. A conversation. A Confessional. A 'This Time, On Oprah' moment. Ooooooh," Elkins simpers in a high nasty falsetto. "Will Neville and Harry talk about their feeeeeeeeeeeelings, Cindy? Will Harry go and make Neville a nice comforting cup of tea? Hand him a hankie, perhaps? Tell him, 'Oh, Neville, how I feel your pain? For I, too, come from a tragically-broken home, and I too have never known the comfort and support of a warm and loving family?' And then, maybe once they're done with all of that delving, they can share a Great Big Hug? And then go on to talk about which girls they like, perhaps?

"Pah!" spits Elkins. "Pah! That's not Bang, Cindy. That's girl stuff! It's a chick flick! It's an after-school special! It's a soap opera! It's a Kaffee Klatsch! It is just plain Weak, is what it is. It. Is. A. DUD!"

Cindy raises her paddle, snarling, but Elkins snatches it right out of her hands.

"Now, a Memory Charm Theory," she says, brandishing the paddle menacingly. "A Memory Charm Theory can give you a real Bang. Something cracks Neville's memory charm, and POW! Change! Sudden, abrupt and catalytic change! What does Reverse Memory Charm have to offer? Nothing, that's what! No change worthy of being deemed Big and Bangy is possible with a Reverse Memory Charm because Neville. Already. Remembers. Everything!"

Cindy mutters something under her breath about Neville finally standing up to Snape.

"Ah, but what leads Neville to this sudden desire to assert himself?" demands Elkins. "What brings about this change? Must I remind you, Cindy, of your very own canonical defense for this theory? That JKR always prefers to show her secondary characters changing course only in response to Big, melodramatic, and discrete life-altering events? Must I really be the one to remind you that the Big Bang Destroyer's engines run only on catalytic converters?

"It's not the Road to Damascus itself, but the vision on the Road to Damascus that constitutes the Big Bang, so where is the catalyst here? Where is the Event, the singular, discrete, cinematic and Big and Bangy Event that is supposed to lead to this sudden change in canonical behavior? What leads Neville to change in this so-called Bangy theory of yours? Self-reflection? A gradual process of maturity? Last Strawism? Those are not Big and Bangy. Bangy means that something happens to cause the change. Something abrupt, something dramatic, something sudden. POW!"

Elkins slams the paddle down on the seat in front of her, causing a cloud of dust to rise into the air.

"Bang!" she shouts. "Something happens, something specific, and then the character is never the same again! That is what Bang means. Bang is Neville suddenly regaining his memory, and then launching himself across the Hogwarts campus, wand out and lip drawn back in a snarl, gritting 'My name is Neville Longbottom. You Crucio'd my parents. Prepare to die,' while Harry and Ron and Hermione hang all over him, trying to hold him back and not being able to because he is Just So Pissed! Bang is Neville using his last dying breath to gasp out his hidden secret knowledge to grappling-on-the-catwalk-over-the-pit-of-hot-lava Harry! Bang is Neville rushing in at the last possible minute to scream, 'No! Harry! Don't trust him! He's EVIL!' Bang is Neville blasting his Gran into a million tiny lavender-water-scented pieces in a fit of mad anguish! Bang is Neville pointing his finger at Moody, whom JKR has tricked us all into trusting yet again, and screaming 'J'accuse!' These things have Bang, Cindy, because they are sudden! They happen abruptly! But Reverse Memory Charm does not have that! All that Reverse Memory Charm can give us is gradual change, and gradual change does not qualify as Bang, because it takes a single, abrupt, and discrete catalyst to make a speculation Big and Bangy!"

Elkins stalks up to the podium and swings hard at the lectern. There is a terrible splintering noise.

"Reverse," she screams, swinging madly at the pages of lecture notes now drifting down about her like snow as she makes her way back down to the front row. "Memory." Elkins smashes the paddle down on the seat Cindy has vacated. Droplets of grape juice and Zwieback crumbs fly into the air. "Charm." She swings the paddle once more at the seat. It breaks in half on the back of the uncomfortable metal chair. "Is," she bellows, gripping the haft of her now splintered paddle with both hands and crouching low, aiming its pointed end right at Cindy's throat. "A. DUD!!!!!"

There is a very long silence. Cindy and Elkins stare at each other, breathing hard. The last of Elkins' lecture notes slowly drifts downwards, to land on the floor between them. The heading "No Suppressed Memory At All" is written in tiny cramped handwriting across the top of the page.

Elkins blinks. She glances blankly down at the broken paddle in her hands.

"You, uh, see," she says hoarsely. "You see. You see. When a character who has been carefully established, over the course of many pages of narrative, to be rather timid, really, you know: ameliorating, non-confrontational, always eager—perhaps even, one might say, a tad too eager—to seek consensus rather than opting for open conflict...when you have a character like that, one who has already been shown to be a little bit neurotic, really, even perhaps a bit pathological when it comes to his aversion to open confrontation...when you have this character who does seem to have a most unfortunate tendency to get himself, you know, bullied and insulted and pushed around by all of the more aggressive personalities out there, then naturally we all understand that it makes perfect psychological sense for there to be no particular catalyst leading him to finally snap. We all understand that the gradual accrual of insult and intimidation and abuse and suppressed rage might just eventually become a Bit Too Much. The notion of the Final Straw That Broke The Camel's Back is not an alien one to us, either in life or in fiction. And of course," she adds, straightening slowly. "I mean, naturally, that can be immensely dramatically satisfying. It can be cinematic. It can even be quite cathartic."

Elkins glances down once more at her broken paddle, then hands it back to Cindy, who accepts it wordlessly. She reaches up to straighten her spectacles.

"But it's still not Bang," she says quietly. "That's not what Bang means. Bang means something slightly different."

Elkins turns on one heel and walks back to what remains of the podium. She bends down to pick a manilla envelope off the floor.

"Of course," she says, as she gathers up the crumpled pages of her lecture notes, cramming them one by one in the envelope. "As you know, I'm hoping for a somewhat different resolution for Neville myself. Because for one thing, I'm a pacifist. And for another..."

She gazes helplessly out over the wreckage of the lecture hall, then shrugs and tosses the envelope back down onto the floor. She walks to the door.

"For another," she sighs. "I've never really been all that big a fan of Bang anyway."

Elkins opens the door, then pauses at the threshold. She glances back over her shoulder into the darkened lecture hall.

"Not like you, Cindy," she says. And leaves the room.

Smiling slightly.

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—Elkins