lauren3210 | The Many Interpretations of Draco Malfoy: Canon vs. Fanon

Aha! Finally found where I put this essay! (I saved it in my download file, for some strange reason.) Anyway, let's try this again?

I've been wanting to write a Draco Malfoy specific essay for a while, and a recent conversation with a friend - about subjectivity in interpretation - finally gave me the push to do it, so here it is. Because the thing is, I really don't like the connotation that "canon vs. fanon" has within the context of interpretation; it tastes of one point of view trying to invalidate another, which is something I am vehemently against. Of course, there are some things that are utterly ridiculous - you can't in good conscience argue that canon supports the theory that Harry was actually a centaur, for example - and there are some things that are basic facts that you can't ignore in order to support your interpretation. You cannot argue that Harry Potter wasn't a bone-deep good guy for example. But for everything else that falls in between the utterly ridiculous and the basic canon facts are open to interpretation.

So I wanted to talk about this, especially in relation to Draco Malfoy, because I feel that he is one such character where the idea of canon vs. fanon comes into play rather a lot in regards to his interpretation; he even has a tv trope named after him - Draco In Leather Pants - which is specifically about the so-called divide between canon facts and fanon interpretation. So, under the cut, is an extremely long essay about my interpretation of the character, with a view to pointing out that even though others may not share that interpretation - even the creator herself - that doesn't mean it's not a valid one. Plus there's also just plain Draco feels, set out in an academic form in an attempt to disguise my fangirling.

(Before anyone clicks, I feel I should put a caveat here: I adore the Harry Potter series. I think that JKR is one of the most amazing, intelligent women on this earth, and that she deserves all the accolades laid at her feet and more. She should have a monument erected in her honour, and I will forever thank her for bringing female writers to the forefront of literature in such a brilliant, unique, amazing way. So, if I come across as a little critical in this essay, please know that it comes from a place of love, and that this takes up only 1% of my overall feelings for the series; the other 99% is too busy flailing over its brilliance.)

When I was an undergrad at university, I took a mandatory course called Reading, Theory, and Interpretation. It involved a lot of heavy, mind boggling material: Dr Faustus; The Crying of Lot 49; Prometheus Bound, to name just a very few. We'd have a lecture on the set material for an hour and then break up into seminar groups to discuss with our TAs the various points the professor had brought up, and then we'd all have to go away and write a mini essay on whatever we'd been reading, which we would then hand out to the entire class the following week. It was a good learning method: we'd all get to see different ways of interpreting the same material, understand how different approaches to things and different life experiences could lead us to looking at things in certain ways. And, because it was a first year undergrad course (and we were all young naive students fresh from A levels where they gave us the opinion we were supposed to have) it wasn't until we got to our exams and were able to write completely rounded on-the-spot essays that we realised just how accurate the name of the course was. It was literally a crash course in how to read and interpret material and form our own opinions, while also teaching us how to understand and appreciate that others can and will have other points of view on the same things. It was like a flashing neon sign telling us all forget what you learned in school, guys, university English Lit. is about the individual.

In my particular seminar group, we had quite an eclectic set of students. I was a young mother at the time, and was quite often called upon to share my views with regards to that. We had a few Canadian and American exchange students who, bless them, struggled quite a lot with most of the very British course material. We also had a couple of French exchange students, of whom I was quite in awe; I found it difficult enough just keeping up with the workload, I couldn't even imagine trying to cope with it all being in a second language. But one of these French students stood out in particular, because he had a certain way of looking at things. It didn't matter if we were studying Greek Tragedies or 19th Century novels, this guy could always find a way to relate it back to: Star Trek. It was... strange, to say the least, and I'm a little ashamed to say that it became a little bit of a joke within our group (but in a nice way, we weren't mean or anything); we'd always be waiting to see what he would do next. Because once you've read a comparison essay on how Frankenstein is Captain Kirk and his monster is Spock, that's something that you just can't ever unsee.

Although I often thought about that French guy during the rest of my time at university, it wasn't until I'd finished that I realised that somewhere in those intervening years, I had become just like him. Not with Star Trek, because as much as I like the franchise I've never been much of a fan beyond watching nearly all of the episodes. Nope, instead I became the Harry Potter version of my strange little French guy. You name it, and I bet I could find a way to relate it back to HP in some way or another, because I'm not just a fan of the books (although I am that too); I have a PhD in it. I've given lectures to undergrad students on it, I've set and graded final year level exam papers on it; my entire career is based on it.

The reason why I'm starting off this essay with this information is because I want people to understand that I know that my obsession is based purely on my own interpretation of the series. Because as much as I have studied the material, as much as I have written and about and discussed at length this series of books, it all started with that first mandatory course. I know that depsite the fact that I can quite literally and truthfully say "I have a degree in Harry Potter", that does not make my own interpretation any more valid than that of anyone else. It's why I subsribe with absolution to the Author is Dead principle, and it's why I get quite annoyed when people try to tell me that my intepretation of Draco Malfoy is wrong.

So, the rest of this essay is about my interpretation of the character Draco Malfoy: why I love him; why I defend him (without excusing him), and why I think that his character arc was a dropped ball within the overall narrative, and the impact that had on the series as a whole. If you made it this far, congrats: you're about to get inundated with feels in a pseudo-academic setting, yay!

The Many Interpretations

After spending some time within the fandom – and the Harry/Draco corner of the fandom in particular – I have noticed that there seems to be three main problems when it comes to interpreting Draco Malfoy as a character:

Disagreement about what qualities the Slytherin House (and therefore Draco) represents

Lack of other fully fleshed out Slytherin characters

A reliance on what the author has said outside of the text.

When discussing these points, one must understand that the points of evidence we're using to come to our conclusions have a degree of unreliability to them. One of the first things we learn about Slytherin House comes from Hagrid, who declares that “there's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin.” This statement, as we find out in Book 3, is actually quite wrong. This is also one of the first pieces of information the audience receives about the school itself, and by the time we turn up with Harry to the Sorting Ceremony, all we know is that Gryffindor “sounds by far the best... Dumbledore himself was in it;” Ravenclaw “wouldn't be too bad;” Huffleuffs “are a lot o' duffers,” but still, “Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin,” because aparently, “You-Know-Who was one.” Because of this, we as readers, along with Harry, are automatically prejudiced against this House that we haven't even met yet. We are also prejudiced against that pale boy in Madam Malkin's shop, because the first thing we learn about him is that he already knows he's going to be in Slytherin.

Canonically however, there are actually very few attributes connected with Slytherin within the text. The Sorting Hat sings three songs throughout the series, and in these it describes Slytherin House as “cunning,” and with “great ambition”, and that's it. Dumbledore describes the type of Students Salazar Slytherin preferred as “resourcefulness - determination -- a certain disregard for rules...”If we look critically at this list of character traits, none of them are decidedly negative: indeed, Harry himself is pointed out as having all of these attributes, by both the Sorting Hat and Professor Dumbledore. So where does the negative outlook on Slytherin House come from, within the text itself?

This question leads us into the second point of this discussion, because it is mainly Draco himself who gives us this rather negative view of his House. With the exception of a few notable adults, Draco is the only fully fleshed out Slytherin character; Crabbe, Goyle, and Parkinson are nothing more than Malfoy sycophants, caricatures of the similar dynamics within Gryffindor House. Because of this, it is only through Harry's observations of Draco that we can make draw conclusions on what the rest of Slytherin House are like.

In the first 5 books at least, Draco Malfoy is a bully: one who delights in seeing others vulnerable, who covets the limelight and takes pride in putting others down, who thinks of his own safety first. We see from the few interactions outside school that he is both spoiled “I think I'll bully father into getting me [a racing broom]” and expected great things from “Though if his grades don't pick up,” said Mr. Malfoy, more coldly still, “[a thief or a plunderer] may indeed be all he is fit for -”. He quite clearly believes that his father is someone he should look up to, and parrots his father's opinions as though they were facts. He is dismissive of anyone who does not live up to his standards, and enjoys being at the centre of any attention that favours him with a positive light. He's also quite cowardly; whereas Harry keeps his two friends close because he loves them, Draco keeps Crabbe and Goyle close because he needs them to act as a buffer between himself and trouble.

It seems then, that with the lack of other such rounded characters, these traits belonging to Draco alone are transferred onto Slytherin House as a whole within the text. When the rest of the Slytherins laugh at a nasty comment made by Draco, it is thought that this is because Draco is simply voicing the opinions of the House as a whole, rather than the sociological fact that people, when placed within a deindividualising place – such as a school – will often display 'herd mentality' when faced with social decisions. Draco is a bully; therefore all Slytherins are bullies.

However, the text also gives us examples to the contrary, most notably in the form of one Zacharias Smith. Smith is also a bully; indeed all of the above traits assigned to Draco can also be used to describe our resident Hufflepuff too. We also have textual evidence of other Slytherins who do not conform to Draco's particular representation of Slytherin House: Severus Snape; Regulus Black, and Horace Slughorn. While evidence can be given for the former two having conformed to Draco's ideals at least during their school years (and beyond, in the case of Snape), the same cannot be said for the latter. Therefore, we have textual evidence that not all bullies are Slytherins, and that not all Slytherins are bullies. It stands to reason then, that there must be some Slytherin students who don't adhere to Draco's version, and that the House as a whole has been unfairly painted with negativity due to the actions of its most prominent member.

There are, of course, a few other Slytherin characters who rear their metaphorical ugly heads and display their supposed 'Slytherin' traits at opportune times. Crabbe suddenly decides to gain a personality other than “henchman no.1” during the Fiendfyre incident, deciding that being “rewarded” by the Drak Lord was a much better life plan than helping fight Voldemort. And then, of course, there's Pansy Parkinson:

“Then a figure rose from the Slytherin table and he recognized Pansy Parkinson as she raised a shaking arm and screamed, "But he's there! Potter's there. Someone grab him!”

This quote is often used to prove the fact that 'self-preservation' is a Slytherin trait; that Slytherins will, and do, put themselves before others if it means ensuring their own survival. McGonagall even uses this sudden outburst as the catalyst for removing all Slytherin students from the school. The problem this has is that 'self-preservation' has never been an explicitly stated Slytherin trait within the text itself. It's certainly a valid interpretation, one that can be backed up by the Sorting Hat's description that Slytherins “use any means to achieve their ends.” It's even been shown in the text, when we've seen Draco and his cohorts backing away from soon-to-explode cauldrons, or terrifying beasts that Hagrid has made them approach. It wouldn't be out of context to suggest that in fact, self-preservation is a Slytherin character trait that we the readers are meant to infer, as it happens so often. However, there is one glaring exception to this: Draco Malfoy, the supposed Voice of Slytherin House.

When placed in the same position as Pansy Parkinson, given the option of being rewarded for giving up Harry Potter, Draco... doesn't. Instead, he prevaricates, looks away from Harry instead of looking close and refuses to even give a positive identification of either Hermione or Ron, despite the fact that they are both unchanged in appearance. Odd then, that the character used to represent Slytherin traits in their entirety doesn't always adhere to the self-preservation attribute that Rowling has told us about in interviews. It suggests a dissonance between what the author intended to say, versus what actually comes across within the text.

My Interpretation

Which is where we segue into my own personal interpretation of Draco Malfoy, and why I subscribe to the Author is Dead principle, because Rowling has said a lot in interviews etc. that I don't take into account. One such soundbite is the following quote:

“People have been waxing lyrical [in letters] about Draco Malfoy, and I think that's the only time when it stopped amusing me and started almost worrying me. I'm trying to clearly distinguish between Tom Felton, who is a good-looking young boy, and Draco, who, whatever he looks like, is not a nice man.”

Statements like this is one of the reasons why I personally don't use outside influences from the author to guide my opinions and interpretations of the text, because there is a glaring error in this quote: We the readers, never actually meet Draco as a man. We only know him from the age of eleven to eighteen; throughout all of the decisions he makes and the bad things he says and does, he is a child.

Having been brought up surrounded by opulence and over-indulgence, Draco is a spoilt brat. After spending most of his childhood the pampered only son to a family who thinks of lineage and birthright as paramount, he is used to being the centre of attention. After having his offer of friendship turned down by Harry on the train, he reacts with typical spoilt behaviour: he has a tantrum, and thus begins the school years long feud between Harry and Draco. It's clear that his parents would have discouraged any previous friendships between Draco and anyone thought of as 'undesirable', so by the time he arrives at school, all Draco knows he has learned from Death Eaters. He dislikes Muggles and Muggleborns because his father dislikes them; he thinks Dumbledore is an idiot because his father says so; he thinks he should be the centre of attention because he always has been; he thinks he should be afforded more rights for being a pureblooded wizard because his parents and all their friends think so. He wants to be a Death Eater and supports Voldemort because that's what his parents think.

And then he becomes a Death Eater, and he realises exactly what it means, and with his father in Azkaban and his opulent home overtaken by snakes and Dark Lords, he stops finding it fun and starts thinking of it as just plain scary. And yet he perseveres in his task, because if he doesn't his family are at risk of punishment. He cries in front of Moaning Mytle, but hides it from everyone else, including his friends, because he cannot show weakness. When he finally gets up to the Tower, he can't trust Dumbledore, because he's spent the past sixteen years of his life being told that the headmaster was nothing but a bumbling fool. And yet he still wants some kind of recognition from Dumbledore, takes time to point out all the clever ways in which he managed to almost complete the assignment that everyone assumed he would fail. He spends the summer before seventh year mostly terrified in his own home, with his father a mere shadow of what Draco had once believed him to be, and his mother still and silent. His entire worldview has been upended, enough to make him prevaricate instead of pointing out Harry, and when he later encounters him in the Room of Requirement, he's not antagonistic, just wants to deliver Harry to Voldemort and get it over with.

A lot of his antagonistic behaviour throughout the books comes from his hatred of Harry, from the fact that Harry spurned him in the beginning, manifesting into rage as he has to sit back and watch Harry in the limelight – that he has been told he had rightful ownership of – and have to see Harry's fame, and his (from Draco's point of view) preferential treatment from the professors – the last minute adjustments to House Points, being allowed on the Quidditch team despite being a First year caught on a broom, for examples. The rest of it is due to how he was brought up; he was raised to believe that he was better than others, and has to do a lot of rearranging of everything that he's known to be true in a very short amount of time.

To be honest, I could 'wax lyrical' about his character practically forever, but even from this short description, it is easy to see that my interpretation of Draco Malfoy is wildly different from that of his creator, who describes him as “not a nice man” with “real moral cowardice.” The Author is Dead principle doesn't confuse itself with the idea that a text is created in a vacuum; it is fully aware that any text comes with its own interpretation already in mind – Authorial Intent. What AiD does do, is look to see if that intepretation came through in the text, and if it didn't, then it's not applicable to individual interpretations.

A good example of this is with the character Dumbledore, who was declared as gay after the fact by Rowling. But it wasn't in the text; while his relationship with Grindelwald can certainly be interpreted as either romantic or sexual, there is never anything in the text to infer that their relationship was based on anything other than intellectual interest. It's the same as shippers using the line “He was rapidly becoming obsessed with Draco Malfoy” as 'proof' that Harry was romantically/sexually interested in Draco. It's an interpretation, certainly, but not one that is backed up within the rest of the text as a whole.

So while the author may in fact see Draco Malfoy as “not a nice man,” the text just does not back that up, simply because we only ever see him as a child.

Draco vs. Dudley: The Dropped Ball

Authors quite often go in to writing with a clear interpretation in mind, but sometimes, during the course of writing, this interpretation shifts, becomes something else, as the words evolve into a story. Sometimes, what an author intends to create never makes it onto the page, and pieces get lost. For me, as a reader of the HP series, Draco was one of those pieces, as his character arc (or at least, my interpretation of his character) was never completed.

Draco is paralleled and connected thematically with a few other characters throughout the series. As Harry, Hermione, Ron and Neville are the next generation embodiment of the Marauders, Draco is the equivalent of Severus Snape. Like Draco, Regulus Black grew up believing in 'blood purity', and was attracted to the Death Eater party line. Until he realised exactly what it meant to be a Death Eater, and then it became too much to handle. But the character Draco is paralleled with the most is Dudley Dursley.

Before we even learn his name, Draco is connected with Dudley. When Harry meets him in Madam Malkin's, he is “strongly reminded of Dudley.” It's not the boy's features that bring Harry's cousin to mind; this boy is pale and pointy, rather than pink and rounded, and the boy is obviously comfortable in their wizarding surroundings. What reminds Harry of Dudley is the way Draco talks, and more specifically the way he talks about his father.

Like Draco, Dudley is over-indulged as a child. His parents buy him whatever he wants, praise all of his bad qualities, treat him as though he is born better than everyone else. He grows up believing everything his parents believe, picking on those less fortunate than himself, or on those his parents deem beneath them due to anything not 'normal' in their view. Dudley is a bully, who delights in taking advantage of the vulnerabilities of others, who, like Draco, uses the death of Harry's parents as fodder for taunts. He laughs over what little he knows of Harry's traumatic experiences at school... right up until these things start to affect himself.

After that, Dudley changes his tune somewhat. He has a moment in Book 6 where the supposed perfection of his childhood is questioned by Dumbledore and is confused by it. And then, in his last moments in the text, Dudley has a change of heart. He leaves a cup of tea for Harry, he agrees with him, even expresses worry over where Harry will be while they're in hiding. And in a quite telling piece of dialogue, we get these lines:

"Blimey, Dudley," said Harry over Aunt Petunia's renewed sobs, "did the dementors blow a different personality into you?"
"Dunno," muttered Dudley, "See you, Harry."

What's interesting about this is that actually, Harry's flippant question isn't too far from the truth. During the dementor attack in Book 5, Dudley is handed a a bit of a revelation about the type of person Harry is. Because despite the fact that he has been nothing but horrible to Harry throughout their entire lives, Harry still saves him. And, although it takes him close to two years to do so, he eventually comes to the realisation that his parents are wrong. Harry isn't a waste of space. Dudley is handed a moment of epiphany, and he takes it, as is rewarded with redemption.

Draco goes through all of these same steps when it comes to his relationship with Harry: he picks on him because he's been taught to believe that he is better than him and revels in that belief; he taunts Harry with the death of Cedric, just like Dudley. Then he gets his own taste of terrifying reality, and he balks, changes his tune during Book 6 and then refusing to identify Harry in the Manor. He's then saved by Harry from the Fiendfyre, despite the fact that he has been nothing but horrible to him as long as they've known each other.

The only step Draco is missing is the chance to try for redemption.

All of the characters Draco is thematically linked with throughout the series are offered redemption: Snape is proven to have been working for the right side after all; Regulus Black turns against Voldemort, and Dudley begins to create his own personality outside that of his father's own beliefs. But Draco's chance for redemption comes too late in the narrative; instead of having two years to ruminate on how Harry saved his life and how that affects him, he gets an hour at most, and then the story is over.

And this creates a problem for the narrative as a whole, because one of the main themes of the series is that strength lies in unity, that prejudice against people because they're Muggleborn, or because they can do magic, or because they were Sorted into a different house, is wrong and should be eradicated. But Draco represents the Slytherins and the purebloods, and with no sign of redemption for him, or even assimilation into the collective, this theme within the narrative remains forever incomplete.

It means that the war didn't so much achieve the eradication of prejudice as it did shift it in another direction, as evidenced by Ron's comments to his daughter in the epilogue. The idea of marrying a Pureblood has now become something to jokingly call unforgivable, and the same animosity between houses has been passed down to the next generation.

Had Draco been given the chance to accept his moment of redemption, however, that epilogue might have read very differently. Instead of staring across the platform at each other and having snide remarks thrown around, there might have been a moment of grudging respect, even polite friendliness. But because his chance came too late, the wizarding world is forced back on that merry-go-round of animosity and distrust.

With regard to canon, I don't think my interpretation of Draco Malfoy, or Slytherin House, is too far off the mark. In fact, if I were the type to take into account after-the-fact statements by the author, I might point out that some Slytherin students were apparently part of the reinforcements Slughorn brings back to the castle towards the end of the Battle. I might even point out that Rowling herself has stated that Draco is not “wholly bad,” that he “suppresses virtually all of the good side of himself” in order to bully others, and that she “felt sorry for Draco.” But I don't need to point these things out, because all of that is in the text.

But here's the thing: I believe in second chances. I believe that children have the right to make mistakes, and I believe that we have a duty to be more lenient with them when they haven't yet had a chance to become their own person, to decide the kind of person they want to be. In this respect, Harry was lucky; often left to his own devices, he was forced to decide for himself who he was at a much younger age than many of his counterparts. Ron too, had a similar affliction; the sixth son with few expectations laid upon him because his brothers have done it first. Hermione was, in a fashion, cut off from her parents by virtue of being born different to them. But, like Dudley, Draco wasn't afforded any of these chances to become his own person due to his circumstances. In this regard, he had more to fight against. As Dumbledore himself says, “It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends.” But it wasn't just his friends Draco would have had to stand up against, it was his family, his entire way of life.

So I don't think it makes me too bad of a person to sympathise with this, rather lost, young boy.

Questions? Thoughts? Bludgers waiting to be thrown at my head? All are welcome! :)

Current Mood: crazy
Current Music: pellek

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

gracerene

Yay! This was so interesting! I love reading your everything apparently!

But yes! These are almost my exact thoughts only put much more eloquently then I could ever manage. I especially love your point about us never really getting to see Draco as a man.

I hadn't ever really considered the comparison of Dudley vs. Draco as far as the redemption arc goes, but that's a really compelling point!

So glad you posted this, really great read! :D

From:

The Many Interpretations of Draco Malfoy: Canon vs. Fanon

Navigation

Page Summary

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags