LIGHTNOVELONLINE Chapter 13.5: Tumble Tour
Chapter 13.5: Tumble Tour
Leavesden Studios, UK. May 2004.
It was a damned good thing that our dance instructor was scheduled to come to teach us next month, because I’d never seen a group of more rhythmically challenged people in either life.
Plates of pudding moved with greater grace. “You’ve got a fake peg leg, are currently blind in one eye, and even you could dance better than that.”
“I’ll be giving the pubs a wide berth the day this lot has their first night out.” Brendan Gleeson, in full Mad-Eye Moody uniform, spat his distaste from beside me.
There was a good reason for a bunch of teens flailing about on set. We were filming the second part of the Defence Against the Dark Arts class where Moody would put us under the Imperius. Like the scene with the spider, the seriousness of the situation would be coupled with a short sequence that was being played for light laughs - aside from myself and a few other key actors who had specific actions we had to take.
“On your marks, everybody. Reset to zero.” We collectively followed Alfonso’s instructions. “Action!”
[“Off your rumps, I want you all front and center!” Moody barked, and we all jumped out from behind our desks. Like a pack of nervous lemmings, we all congregated on the outlined markers on the floor in a symphony of shuffling feet and whispered mumbles. Moody paced back and forth, his teeth gnashing as he purposefully glared at each and every student. He lifted and brought down his prop stave hard on the ground.
The VFX team executed their orders on cue.
Chairs, desks, and the paraphernalia occupying them moved from their stationary positions through the clever use of wires, pulleys, and rails, clearing a large open space around us.
“The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I’ll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone’s got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. Constant vigilance!” Moody’s voice drowned the scraping of wood on stone.
Hermione’s hand immediately shot up, and she bounced impatiently on her toes. “But - but you said it’s illegal, Professor!” She voiced with uncertainty before Moody even bothered to address her. “You said to use it against another human wa-”
“Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like,” He interrupted her interruption. Moody strode and loomed over Hermione, whose hand gingerly slunk down because of the eerie, uncomfortable stare he fixed her with. “If you’d rather learn the hard way — when someone’s putting it on you so they can control you completely - fine by me. You’re excused. Off you go.” He pointed at the door, turned his head away, and marched away from Hermione, who bit her lip and ducked her head.
The sequence began with an aerial crane shot that caught a bird's-eye view of Moody beckoning the students to spread out over the area before he cast the curse on the students one-by-one.
“Imperio.” Lavender Brown hopped up on Moody’s desk and imitated a squirrel by gnawing at a magical knick-knack. The crane swooped down and meandered through the throngs of students in a tracking shot following in Moody’s wake.
“Imperio.” Ron dropped down on all fours and neighed. Parvati Patil mounted his back, and both went for a horse ride. “Imperio.” Dean Thomas hopped around the room while singing the national anthem. “Imperio.” The Slytherins weren’t spared either as Malfoy, doing his best impression of a crowing chicken ran across the frame of the shot from end to the other. “Imperio.” Moody stabbed his stave, the camera whip panned to where it was pointed to, showing Hermione launching paper airplanes made from her much cherished notes.
The camera swam through a group of dancing students and paused when Moody approached Neville. “I’m going to keep you awake for this, Longbottom.” Moody snarled. “Imperio.”
Dan Radcliffe, as Neville, cartwheeled. I’d been in the harness enough times to know that it was helping him. He somersaulted, the wires tugged him up, the camera followed his ascent, adjusted its angle to catch his face and zoomed in. “Why is it always me?”
From up high, the camera once again panned over the entire scenery before resting beside Moody and I. “You’re next, Potter.”
Moody pressed the top of his stave under my chin. I clenched my teeth and flexed my jaw. “Imperio.”
My expression fell away. I relaxed my features, making myself look unfocused and calm. Moody leaned in and growled. “You see that desk, Potter?” He stepped away and gestured at a specially prepared prop table. “It’s a troll. Go jump on it.”
The camera closed up on my slackened face, and rack-focused to blur my surroundings.
I bent my knees obediently, prepared to follow through. Then I paused. I twitched one eye, my body jolted, unwilling to heed his command.
“I said jump, Potter!” He stabbed his stave again.
Hesitation imprisoned my body as I tensed every muscle I could feel and lunged forward. But rather than taking a leap, I crashed headlong into the foam and fiberglass table, sending us both toppling over in a loud crash.
I found myself in a heap on the floor. I shuddered and rattled the Imperius curse out of my ears with a jerk of my head. “I’d really rather not.” I grunted out.
“Now, that’s more like it!” Moody suddenly guffawed. “Look at that, you lot… Potter fought! He fought it, and he damn near beat it!” He removed the spells, and all eyes were on me. “We’ll try that again, Potter, and the rest of you pay attention.” Moody’s tongue darted out and snaked over his lips. “They’ll have trouble controlling you, won’t they Potter?”]
Lacock Abbey, UK. May 2004.
As much as I or anyone night like a screen adaptation to stick rigidly to the books, the reality was that it was impossible.
A book often had the luxury of saying longer is better, but a movie couldn’t adhere to that notion. So, oftentimes, especially in the Harry Potter movies, a slick trick was employed to include multiple scenes from the book into a single shot in the film.
Neil Gaiman had skillfully merged two conversations into one instead of discarding one scene in favor of another.
In the books, there was a conflict between Harry and Malfoy in nearly every other chapter. It just wasn’t feasible to have each one in the movie. And this way, a scene not seen in the original rendition would be included in the new one.
[The Gryffindors stood awkwardly in the dungeon’s hallway outside the potions room. Ron leaned grumpily on the hallway wall, arms crossed and intentionally engaging with Dean and Seamus in an effort to spurn me. I only had Hermione by my side.
The stalemate was broken when Malfoy arrived with his posse of Slytherins. He made a beeline directly for me. “Like them, Potter?” He tapped the green prop stand-in for the magical badges. “And this isn’t all they do — look!” The animated ‘Potter Stinks’ would be added in post-production.
Rather than de-escalating or shying away, I stepped to the entire cackling group alone. I curled my lip and sneered at Malfoy. “You’d know all about stink, wouldn’t you, Malfoy? Wager you learnt it from your mother.” I felt Hermione tug on the back of my robes, but I wasn’t swayed. I stayed mean. “That expression she’s got, like she’s got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?” I mockingly rubbed the bit of skin in between my upper lip and nose.
“Don’t you dare insult my mother, Potter.” Malfoy’s face went pink, and he bared his teeth.
“Keep your fat mouth shut, then.”
“Harry!” Hermione reprimanded.
Humiliated but undeterred, Malfoy switched targets. “Want one, Granger?” said Malfoy, holding out a badge to Hermione. “I’ve got loads. But don’t touch my hand, now. I’ve just washed it, you see; don’t want a Mudblood sliming it up.”
For a split second, we glared at each other, then, at exactly the same time, we both brandished our wands.
“Go on, then, Potter, Moody’s not here to look after you now - do it, if you’ve got the guts.”
“You should’ve stayed a ferret. Furnunculus!” I slashed my wand in a wide arc.
“Densaugeo!” screamed Malfoy with a downward swipe of his own wand. Goyle bellowed and put his hands to his nose. Hermione whimpered in panic, while clutching her mouth.
“Hermione!” Ron immediately rushed to her side.
“What is all this... noise about?” Snape’s soft, deadly voice slithered out as he stamped out from the shadows.
“Potter attacked me, sir.” Malfoy simpered, “- and he hit Goyle!”
Turning away from him, Snape focused on Goyle, who moaned while his face was buried in his hands. Snape lifted his arms like surgeons did, sharply tugged his cuffs down, grabbed Goyle’s hair, and plucked him out from his palms. Matt Lewis, as Goyle, would receive his first close-up shot since Chamber of Secrets. I’d seen the mock-ups and rest assured the boils that would be CGI on his face were vomit inducing. “Hospital wing, Goyle,” Snape said calmly while roughly releasing him.
“What about Hermione? She was attacked, too!” Ron loudly accused. He gently pried her hands from over the mouth to display where her overgrown set of chompers would be.
Snape looked coldly at them, a small smirk on his lips. “I see no difference.” He swiveled on his heel, turned his back to us, and dramatically threw open the doors of the potions room.
Hermione let out a whimper; her eyes filled with tears, she covered her teeth again, and dashed out of frame.
“You’re a right foul git, you know that?” Ron insulted Snape, who didn’t even miss a step.
“Detention Weasley, and bring Potter with you.”]
Durham Cathedral, UK. June 2004.
“HARRY POTTER! DIDJA PUT YOUR NAME IN THE GOBLET OF FIYAH!?”
The thundering wail of his voice boomed across the hall. Michael Gambon clawed my shoulders and shook my body like a career bartender with his tumbler. “You little shit, I should send you to Azkaban!”
My neck was loose, my teeth clacked like castanets, and my head lolled back and forth with Gambon’s deceptive vigor.
Even as he let go and addressed a thoroughly bewildered Alfonso Cuaron, I continued to shake like a cartoon bobblehead. Because at the end of the day, that’s all I was to these cruel adults, a toy.
“I was thinking something a little more like this. Adds to the scene’s tension, don’t you think?”
Cuaron’s eyes darted away from Gambon’s earnest gaze. Clearly that was a ‘No’. “Ehm… I cannot imagine Dumbledore manhandling Harry…”
I’d rather railroad this train than see it pull into the station, so I ceased my seizure and pulled on the brakes. “Dumbledore’s screaming is probably best reserved for Crouch. I’ll even gift David Tennant a pair of ear plugs so you can holler your heart out.”
“Bah! No one lets me have any fun.” Gambon called it all humbug.
“A discussion for a later day, perhaps. For now, let’s finish this scene.” Cuaron rushed away behind his monitor. Let me translate, that was director for ‘Keep your ideas to yourself’. A little tact went a long way, never a good idea to be completely candid with actors - we’re all just so dramatic by nature.
[Cuaron busted out my favourite steadicam for this sequence. The antechamber was fit to burst with not just the number of bodies stuffed into it but the cacophony of noise swirling around me.
The camera fixed solely on my position. I was centered in frame as me and the camera rotated steadily, revealing the disorganized circle of players each shouting over each other.
“Extraordinary!” Cheered Ludo Bagman.
“Zey are saying zat zis little boy is to compete also!” Spat Fleur.
“What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?” Came Maxime’s deep, indignant bellow.
“Two Hogwarts champions?” Sneered Karkaroff.
“Potter’s determined to break rules. He has been crossing lines ever since he arrived here!” Snape helpfully added fuel to the fire.
All the while, I frantically whipped my head back and forth between the frowning faces. My eyes were wide, I bit my lip, I let my hands shiver just enough to be visible. Sweat began seeping from my hairline as I induced a panic attack.
Voices piled on voices, my breathing grew erratic and audible. The uproar threatened to drown me alive.
Then pin drop silence. The camera, the world, stilled.
A firm hand rested soothingly on my shoulder. My trembling ebbed. Dumbledore gazed down at me over his half-moon glasses.
“Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?” Dumbledore asked calmly.]
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