It’s rare that I start a post with a photograph I didn’t take…and rarer still to not include ANY photographs of mine…but I had to offer my tu-pence on this gem.
I am a Harry Potter fan. I found the series mid-way between the 3rd and the 4th book – which is when book one was was finally starting to show up in the discount book outlets. I figured a couple of bucks for this slender teen-aimed fantasy was money well gambled.
I liked the original book well enough to go hunt up the 2nd – also in trade paperback. On finding out that the 3rd was only available in hardcover – I dithered over the purchase for a grand total of 4 days.
I’m so proud of my self-restraint!
I was hooked, and bought each successive novel in hardcover as soon as it was released…culminating in purchasing the ‘limited-edition, special box-and-artwork’ copy of the Deathly Hallows for an insane amount on opening day.
If you hadn’t guessed – I’m a fantasy-story whore. If there’s a magical or supernatural angle to your story – yup…I’ll read it.
as soon as it finds me…
Anyway – back to the Potter-verse. Let’s take the villains in the above meme one at a time, shall we?
First in my opinion-box is Lord Voldemort. For all the marketing on him being the big, bad, evil dude, ultimately, he turned out to be nothing more than a terrified little git with vague dreams of self-importance. He spent his life – both of them – behaving like the worst bully on the playground – even going as far as ripping his soul to shreds just to prove he was the biggest badass on the Tee-ball diamond. This big bully gets dropped at the end the way all bullies get owned – the 90 pound weakling stands up to him.
Bellatrix Lestrange is our next contestant. Demented? Yup. Bat-shit insane? Bingo! Trotting around Voldemort’s heels like an animal in heat? Affirmamente! But evil? Not a chance. She’s the battered hanger-on to the bully on the playground – the poor spineless little twit who sucks up her boyfriend’s semen on his demand, services his buddies on command, and apologizes to him later for the black eye and busted jaw she “made” him give her. Bellatrix made me feel alternately disgusted with her simpering, pathetic, please-let-me-worship-you begging at Voldemort’s feet; and saddened that she hadn’t the brain cells to realize there were options that didn’t involve being the Dark Lord’s bitch.
Draco Malfoy waves from the sidelines. He’s the spoiled little rich-kid who spends most of the series with this huge, gold-plated chip firmly lodged on his shoulder, and an uncanny knack for squeaking out of mortal danger with the power of his father’s wallet. That chip does eventually get flicked off, he learns that money can’t buy you everything, and that talking the talk only gets you as far as the bigger guy demanding you put all that money where your mouth is before he plants his fist there. Next time, Draco – use some of daddy’s money to buy yourself a clue.
Aaaaand, now proudly introducing – Severous Snape. (pause for applause)
Emo. Goth. Gryffindor’s whipping boy. I mean – he got blamed for EVERYTHING! I’m surprised that Hermione didn’t blame Snape for the pimple that sprouted on her ass overnight because they blamed him for everything else.
The best part of Snape was he didn’t give one Weasley’s Wildfire Whiz-bang about all the finger-pointing in his direction. He was cool like that – extremely comfortable in his own skin. If you didn’t like Snape’s skin, he’d be happy to extend the hatred right back-at-cha, with a side of deep-fried cheese curds and a burger with all the good toppings if he was in the right mood. Just don’t ask where the meat came from…
Can you tell I liked Snape?
Lucious Malfoy. Draco’s wallet. He pretty much learned Draco’s lesson at the same time as his son – if you’re going to swim with the sharks, prepare to get bit in the ass. Lucious got what he deserved…and it wasn’t lunch. Just dessert.
Narcissa Malfoy. The third member of the Malfoy household, and the only one I really sympathized with, probably because she was an ornament for the bulk of the series. In the end, maternal instincts won out, and she hustled her barely-intact family away from the courtyard at her first opportunity. I suspect she began wearing the pants in that family soon after their final departure from the series.
And finally…Delores Umbridge.
If evil were distilled, concentrated, and poured into a pretty container, you’d get Delores Umbridge. I’m envisioning luminescent green toxic sludge poured into an expensive, hand-crafted, Waterford Crystal Decanter. WITH the ornate topper (yours for an additional $499.99 – order today!) That pretty much sums up Delores Umbridge.
Every pore of this character oozed pure, undiluted evil. There were no good sides to Delores Umbridge, there was no gold under the tarnish, no silver lining on her cloud. She took life’s lemons, and ground them into babies eyes. In the disco ball of life, she was all pointy corners.
She was evil attempting to disguise itself as everything cutsie, innocent and naive. She wore nothing but soft pink suits. She had the wall of overly-cute kitten plates which mewled incessantly, and covered every horizontal surface with lace doilies. She had that annoyingly high-pitched and childish voice; and the ‘hemmm…hemmmmp’ half-whine, half fake-throat clear chirp to get attention? Evil. Pure evil.
I’ll bet she had razor-sharp teeth in her girly bits.
I hated Umbridge – both in the print version and the movie version. I yelled at her as I read the books, and, to my surprise, seeing her on screen made me hate her even more.
So kudos out there to Rowling – for creating such a memorable evil bitch. The centaurs carrying her off was really too good of an ending for her – I would have preferred something more satisfyingly violent – but then again, I’m a 29+++ hobby-writer stuck in Wisconsin – so what do I know???
I can only hope someday to create a character half as loathsome.