place-not-a-place called “King’s Cross” with its suggestion of an afterlife all suggest that Ms. Rowling’s headmaster is the magical equivalent of Hughes’s Rugby headmaster.
Hero as Bully Beater and Protector of the Weak, Strange, and Despised
Beyond the formula elements every boarding school novel has and their echoes from the tradition in specific characters, Rowling is a conformist both to the thematic conventions of the school novel genre and to the core morality of such books. What is this morality? In two words, “friendship” and “character.” “Building friendships, proving a good friend, separating from those who hold the wrong values and thus showing one’s true character are all central to public school novels.” 14 We can see celebrations of “the virtues of chivalry, decency, honor, sportsmanship, and loyalty” in this list of the typical plot devices of schoolboy and -girl stories taken from Karen Manners Smith’s essay “Harry Potter’s Schooldays”: 15
• [The stories feature] competitive team sports in general (called “games” in England), and intramural—that is, inter-dorm, inter-house, and inter-school-rivalry in athletics and other things in which points can be accumulated toward an annual championship.
The Hogwarts obsession with Quidditch and the importance to every student of winning and losing “house points” in the intramural competition for the House Cup are Ms. Rowling’s twists on this standard.
• All the books centralize the schoolboys’ (or schoolgirls’) code of honor: sticking together with one’s peers and never telling tales.
Harry’s refusal to go to Dumbledore when tortured by Dolores Umbridge is the heroic version of this code of honor in not telling tales but keeping a stiff upper lip. His telling Cedric about the dragons before the first Triwizard trial and Cedric’s revealing how to hear the clue in the magical egg, not to mention his refusal to take the Triwizard Cup in the center of the maze, are other examples of schoolboy honor.
• The books explore relationships between pupils and schoolmasters and schoolmistresses and frequently deal with the isolation experienced by the student who does not “fit in.”
Can you say “Luna Lovegood” and “Neville Longbottom?” It’s no accident that these square pegs in round holes are redeemed by membership in Dumbledore’s Army. But more on Neville in a moment.
• School stories abound with moral dilemmas involving cheating, tattling, smoking, drinking, gambling, rule breaking, and unauthorized absences from school.
It isn’t a schoolboy novel unless the students break rules early on and come to terms with the moral implications of this choice as they mature. Remember Lupin’s restrained rebuke to Harry in Prisoner of Azkaban for going to Hogsmeade— and Harry’s profound shame? That is only possible consequent to poor choices and an implicit moral standard.
• Heroes and heroines and friends often find themselves unjustly accused of misdemeanors and subjected to unjust punishments; often children have to deal detective-fashion with thefts or vandalism of school property or personal possessions.
As we saw in chapter one, the mystery unwound by our trio of detectives is the narrative drive of every book in the series. Harry is accused and punished, too, in every book, often for doing the right thing (smuggling a dragon to the Astronomy Tower, confronting Umbridge publicly with the truth of Voldemort’s return, saving Dudley from a dementor, etc.).
• The protagonists typically find themselves promoted—willingly or reluctantly—to authority at some point, such as being made prefect, Head Boy or Girl, or games captain.
Part of the agony of Order of the Phoenix is that Harry is passed over for prefect and his best friends are chosen instead. Of course, Ron and Hermione’s enthusiasm and discomfort in these positions are clichés of the genre. Harry, the born leader, in
Hero as Bully Beater and Protector of the Weak, Strange, and Despised
Beyond the formula elements every boarding school novel has and their echoes from the tradition in specific characters, Rowling is a conformist both to the thematic conventions of the school novel genre and to the core morality of such books. What is this morality? In two words, “friendship” and “character.” “Building friendships, proving a good friend, separating from those who hold the wrong values and thus showing one’s true character are all central to public school novels.” 14 We can see celebrations of “the virtues of chivalry, decency, honor, sportsmanship, and loyalty” in this list of the typical plot devices of schoolboy and -girl stories taken from Karen Manners Smith’s essay “Harry Potter’s Schooldays”: 15
• [The stories feature] competitive team sports in general (called “games” in England), and intramural—that is, inter-dorm, inter-house, and inter-school-rivalry in athletics and other things in which points can be accumulated toward an annual championship.
The Hogwarts obsession with Quidditch and the importance to every student of winning and losing “house points” in the intramural competition for the House Cup are Ms. Rowling’s twists on this standard.
• All the books centralize the schoolboys’ (or schoolgirls’) code of honor: sticking together with one’s peers and never telling tales.
Harry’s refusal to go to Dumbledore when tortured by Dolores Umbridge is the heroic version of this code of honor in not telling tales but keeping a stiff upper lip. His telling Cedric about the dragons before the first Triwizard trial and Cedric’s revealing how to hear the clue in the magical egg, not to mention his refusal to take the Triwizard Cup in the center of the maze, are other examples of schoolboy honor.
• The books explore relationships between pupils and schoolmasters and schoolmistresses and frequently deal with the isolation experienced by the student who does not “fit in.”
Can you say “Luna Lovegood” and “Neville Longbottom?” It’s no accident that these square pegs in round holes are redeemed by membership in Dumbledore’s Army. But more on Neville in a moment.
• School stories abound with moral dilemmas involving cheating, tattling, smoking, drinking, gambling, rule breaking, and unauthorized absences from school.
It isn’t a schoolboy novel unless the students break rules early on and come to terms with the moral implications of this choice as they mature. Remember Lupin’s restrained rebuke to Harry in Prisoner of Azkaban for going to Hogsmeade— and Harry’s profound shame? That is only possible consequent to poor choices and an implicit moral standard.
• Heroes and heroines and friends often find themselves unjustly accused of misdemeanors and subjected to unjust punishments; often children have to deal detective-fashion with thefts or vandalism of school property or personal possessions.
As we saw in chapter one, the mystery unwound by our trio of detectives is the narrative drive of every book in the series. Harry is accused and punished, too, in every book, often for doing the right thing (smuggling a dragon to the Astronomy Tower, confronting Umbridge publicly with the truth of Voldemort’s return, saving Dudley from a dementor, etc.).
• The protagonists typically find themselves promoted—willingly or reluctantly—to authority at some point, such as being made prefect, Head Boy or Girl, or games captain.
Part of the agony of Order of the Phoenix is that Harry is passed over for prefect and his best friends are chosen instead. Of course, Ron and Hermione’s enthusiasm and discomfort in these positions are clichés of the genre. Harry, the born leader, in
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