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J. K. RowlingA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Within Chamber of Secrets, Rowling identifies many shades and types of prejudice that shape interactions in the wizarding world. While many of these prejudices are despicable and destructive, others seem to manifest themselves in otherwise admirable characters or have some degree of justification. By examining the broad range of prejudices that exist and how they impact human interactions, Rowling calls attention to the need to rise above personal bias.
Some prejudices are presented as overt and obviously wrong. These include a set of assumptions shared by Voldemort and his followers, including the Malfoys, who feel that magical people are superior to Muggles, with whom they should not associate. This prejudice extends to witches and wizards who lack magical ancestry and those who have magical ancestry but fail to respect it (in the eyes of those who subscribe to this philosophy) by falling into friendly association with Muggles. When Mr. Malfoy spots the Weasleys with the Grangers, who are Muggles, in Diagon Alley, he comments, “The company you keep, Weasley...and I thought your family could sink no lower” (62). Mr. Malfoy’s use of a height-based metaphor to describe Mr. Weasley’s supposed transgression reveals the hierarchical way that he views the world based on indicators such as wealth and birth. Unsurprisingly, his views extend to the diminishment of house-elves and other non-human but intelligent species.
The apparently irredeemable Malfoys are also on the receiving end of prejudice. When Hagrid separates Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Weasley following their tussle in Flourish and Blotts, he describes the Malfoy family thus: “Rotten ter the core, the whole family, everyone knows that—no Malfoy’s worth listenin’ ter—bad blood, that’s what it is” (63). Hagrid’s reference to “bad blood” speaks to his background as a gamekeeper, suggesting that his views are shaped by a belief in nature over nurture. Harry, for his part, despises Draco individually but also buys into stereotypes about Slytherin House and the students who belong to it, going so far as to plead with the Sorting Hat not to put him in Slytherin, despite its insistence that Harry could succeed in Slytherin. In Harry’s view, people can be categorized, and the house system simply makes it easier for him to pass judgment on others.
Though, as a Weasley, Ron opposes discrimination against Muggles, he manifests yet another variant of prejudice common in the wizarding community: disdain for Squibs, non-magical persons born into magical families. When Harry asks Ron about Filch’s Kwikspell course, Ron laughs and then catches himself: “Well—it’s not funny really—but as it’s Filch” (143). The fact that Filch works so hard to keep his interest in Kwikspell secret suggests that he knows how severely the students would ridicule him for it.
In these and other cases throughout the novel, prejudice surfaces as both an instinctive response to certain people or situations as well as a cultural response that is learned and passed on. Only Dumbledore seems to rise above the distortion of bias as he listens humbly and delays forming conclusions until the best evidence is available.
Partly due to his somewhat naïve, dualistic outlook on life, Harry struggles to define himself in light of discoveries that contradict his existing view of himself. Harry’s resulting internal conflict eventually leads him to conclude that choices determine identity, not vice versa.
At first, Harry defines himself primarily by fixed, external labels: he is a friend, a Quidditch player, a member of Gryffindor House. Harry assumes that his identity is somehow the sum of these labels. However, doubt creeps in when he recalls that the Sorting Hat nearly placed him in Slytherin, a label Harry adamantly opposes. Significantly, Harry has no problem with his ability to speak to snakes until Ron pulls him aside and informs him that this comes with a damning social label: that of “Parselmouth,” which is closely associated with Slytherin. That night, Harry lies sleepless, arguing with himself about who or what he is or could be, up to and including the heir of Slytherin. To his own dogged insistence that he belongs in Gryffindor, a “nasty little voice” responds, “But the Sorting Hat wanted to put you in Slytherin, don’t you remember?” (197). Harry fears that his destiny and identity are somehow imposed by factors beyond his control.
His fears grow as he first sympathizes with Riddle, then recognizes Riddle as Voldemort. Riddle even comments on the “strange likenesses” between him and Harry, including their both being “half-bloods, orphans, raised by Muggles. Probably the only Parselmouths to come to Hogwarts since the great Slytherin himself. We even look something alike” (317). However, whatever they share in circumstance, Harry finds that face to face, they oppose each other on almost every moral point. Harry’s respect and tolerance for others run directly counter to Voldemort’s selfish disregard; their differing responses to Ginny’s plight are proof of that. As Dumbledore summarizes after the fact, “It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities” (333). In fact, Ginny’s arc mirrors Harry’s: Whereas Harry’s fears that he is like Voldemort fade away as his choices lead him further and further from the path that Voldemort took, Ginny’s guilt at her role in the attacks similarly fades when she recognizes that she never made a conscious choice to open the Chamber of Secrets.
Even Harry’s belief in the possibility of meaningful choice itself sets him apart from Voldemort, whose obsession with labeling and hierarchies of power causes him to dismiss Harry’s survival through his mother’s sacrifice as a “lucky chance” rather than the result of any choice she made. Harry and Dumbledore know better. The implication is clear: If choice is the key to character, loving sacrifice is the most powerful choice.
Rowling presents several characters who seek personal and social validation in contrasting ways and with varying results.
The Dursleys seek social validation through adherence to the norms of their community. In this case, that involves winning a business deal through careful flattery of the Masons. So clearly set out are the expectations surrounding the visit that Vernon plans the evening in exquisite detail, complete with prepared compliments. Chances are he would have succeeded had Dobby not appeared and broken the rules of engagement. While the Dursleys are perfectly effective at what they do, their perpetual dissatisfaction with their lives suggests that their habit of comparing themselves to others, which is how they learn to fit in, only leaves them wanting more.
At Hogwarts, Nick longs to join the Headless Hunt, a club of ghosts who go on to steal the show from Nick at his 500th deathday party. Like the Dursleys, Nick centers his attention on something he can never attain, even enlisting Harry in his futile quest, and becomes bitter as a result. Similarly, Nick’s fellow ghost, Myrtle, retains the teenage mindset she had at her death, yearning for friends but finding offense in almost everything anyone says or does. A rare moment of pleasure comes when Harry asks her about her death, with Myrtle looking “as though she had never been asked such a flattering question” (299), but, of course, Harry is only interested to the extent that she can help him on his search for the Chamber of Secrets.
None of these characters has half so large an appetite for approval as Lockhart, whose lust for fame motivates his every waking moment. When, at Lockhart’s request, Harry is assigned to help Lockhart answer his fan mail for detention, Lockhart fills the time with anecdotes and inanities, such as “Fame’s a fickle friend” and “Celebrity is as celebrity does” (120). These aphorisms ironically prove prophetic, however, as Lockhart’s enjoyment of his fame does not endure the loss of his memory, and his fate has an element of karma or poetic justice since he is a practiced hand at wiping others’ memories, mirroring the circularity of his comment that “Celebrity is as celebrity does” (120). The implication is that fame, while possibly enjoyable in the moment, tends to be unsustainable, relying as it does on unrealistic expectations.
Alongside these characters vying for validation, Harry yearns for more than mere superficial acceptance or approval, but his goal remains challenging in the absence of meaningful parental figures. When Hermione asks whether the Dursleys will be proud of Harry, he responds, “Are you crazy? All those times I could’ve died, and I didn’t manage it? They’ll be furious” (341). Dumbledore does at least partially fill the gap, but Harry’s semi-annual-at-best meetings with Dumbledore are perhaps too limited in scope. Instead, and ultimately, Harry’s coming-of-age hinges on his deepening ability to think and act for himself and take responsibility for his actions, finding validation in the good he accomplishes, regardless of how his actions are understood or misunderstood by others.
By J. K. Rowling