(Hey gang, make sure you read Part 1 first! – Ed.)
It is at this point in the series that a logical break can be made. There is a deliberate shift from the more episodic early exploits into one great, contiguous adventure. I get the sense that by the 3rd-4th book, Rowling realized that she could have a large-scale story arc because she was confident that the popularity of her books would permit the completion of the story (and the continuing production of $PaPeR$ dollar dollar bills y’all).
The Goblet of Fire might be the zenith of Harry’s story, though of course the climax is much, much later. It is probably my personal favorite in terms of Harry Potterishness. Harry is starting to become sardonic, complicated, and less childish. He develops a love interest. Cho Chang has the kind of name that I feel is incredibly racist, but I can’t quite pin down why. Nevertheless, we see Harry express the emergence of his feelings towards Cho in the way only a woman who has never been a man can describe. He’s got a new broom, new adventures, and some real pathos. The Death Eaters show that shit is getting real. I start feeling like this book needs to be taken more seriously than the last three. Then Hagrid shows up, having learned nothing from being imprisoned, and raises a dragon. I think he also gets laid. Well, whatever, I am still enjoying this book. I have started routinely sympathizing with Harry’s defeats and cheering his victories. When he saves Fleur’s sister I am proud that Harry is becoming a man. When Cedric dies I felt genuinely disturbed for Harry, who will now have to deal with the complicated feelings arising from victory in those conditions, as well as how it will tie into the relationship he wants with Cho. It is interesting to see the quality and complexity of the writing increase with each new volume in the series.
I cannot remember anything from the Order of the Phoenix. I don’t mean for this to imply that it is bad. Rather, the series becomes so close-knit at this stage that, as someone who has only done a single read-through, it is very difficult to pinpoint in which book exactly what happens. Still, Harry Potter fighting fascism is sweet. Just when I thought no one could be worse than the Dursleys or that shit-mouth Draco, we meet Dolores Umbridge- the living, walking embodiment of dogmatism and establishmentarianism. Harry’s rebellion against Umbridge symbolizes our own growth as teenagers in contra to the established social construct- *Ouch* “I must not critically engage Harry Potter books”. Umbridge is a huge bitch, and a major boner-killer. It is immensely satisfying seeing her get her comeuppance. Harry creating an underground terrorist organization to fight the fascists, like an arcane Ernest Hemingway, owns and is good. He kisses Cho which also owns and is good, even if she is the World’s Most Sensitive Person. I guess this book owns, and is good.
The Half-Blood Prince is where I really start to feel like the series needs to end. Surprise, there is an artifact from one of the six people who have attended Hogwarts in the previous 50 years. Everything feels more urgent, more serious. I think this book has cursing (the real kind!!!!!!!!). At this point that I cannot ignore a particular issue any longer – do people actually bone in Harry Potter? Like, there is all this “snogging” right, but I just can’t see how their behavior matches the description. For example, Ron and Lavender are described as making out so frequently and intensely that they are semi-permanently attached to each other’s faces. At one point, Harry and Hermione leave the room, and then Ron and Lavender, giggling like idiots, sneak into the same classroom, not realizing the two will be in there. Why sneak away? What’s your end game here, Ron? They are clearly comfortable with public displays of affection. The only logical conclusion is that they want to get away from prying eyes to do something private, a.k.a. they are D.T.F.. As I mentioned before, I realize Rowling isn’t a dude and that she doesn’t have a penis, so she might not fully anticipate just how unbelievable the relationship she presents is. Lavender and Ron date for what seems like several months. As a teenager, I would have been bored and frustrated with that relationship after around three days. No wonder Ron becomes so moody; he must be carrying the worst case of blue-balls in wizarding history. At least when Harry finally gets with Ginny, there is a much more ambiguous “go out for a long walk” scene. Oh also, Dumbledore dies, which I was expecting at some point. Still don’t buy all the hype about Snape being evil. It just seems too convenient considering all the back and forth about it.
Now we get to the crux (horcrux?) of the matter. Deathly Hallows is probably the best book in the series, even if it isn’t quite the most Harry Potterish (this distinction, if you recall, goes to the Goblet of Fire). The notion that man a) has an incorporeal soul and b) can divide up his incorporeal soul, is so mind-blowingly illogical that I have to accept it straight up. I am genuinely excited reading this book, learning about horcruxes, and trying to figure out how Harry Potter will kill Voldemort. I am ignoring guests in my apartment to read Harry Potter, and I am really hoping that it won’t end with the same old self-sacrifice garbage. I don’t want Harry to die the death of a Christ-figure; I want Harry to live and glory in the defeat of his enemies. I want him to know what is best in life; to drive his enemies before him and hear the lamentations of their women. Truthfully, the book could be shorter. I know we have to contend with procuring all the horcruxes, but it begins to feel like a bit of a collect-a-thon. The horcruxes and hallows strike me as really fascinating literary devices. It is cool and good for there to be sweet battles with magic and monsters and everyone is dying and blowing up and LASER EXPLOSIONS WOAH but that doesn’t really matter. In the end, what matters most are relationships. Dumbledore to his family, to Harry; Harry to Voldemort, to Ginny, to his friends; Ron to Hermione, to his family, etc. and so on, and so forth. The horcruxes and hallows are representative of the most important relationship of all – our relationship with ourselves. In particular, they represent our understanding of our own deaths. Each horcrux, fittingly, embodies a particular method for cheating death. Voldemort, in his fanatical pursuit of immortality, has chosen to use – literary immortality (the diary), generational/familial immortality (the locket), wealth (the ring), fame (the Hufflepuff cup), glamor (the Ravenclaw diadem), infamy (Nagini), and valor/heroics (Harry Potter – though this one was accidental). Of course, ultimately none of them work. The Hallows, however, present a much more intriguing view of death. The Elder Wand, Turning Stone, and Invisible Cloak – only by possessing all three of these can one be considered to have control over death. The elder tree, the earthy stone, and a cloak of air. Only by becoming part of Nature, by accepting that you are kin to the tree, tied to the stone, and are yourself the stuff of air, can you overcome death. In short, by the natural order, all things must die. This is nothing to fear because you are also a part of nature and the natural order, and this is capitulated at the end of Deathly Hallows – Harry learns to accept his death, to appreciate his life for having lived it, and to give his life. In giving it freely, in conquering his fear and accepting death as an inevitable part of life, he overcomes death, and is only then able to defeat Voldemort. As a constituent of the living universe, Harry intuitively recognizes that death is a necessary part of a natural process that contributes to a higher unity. To fret over it is to deny the joy that living contains, and that dying brings to living. Harry becomes the Boy Who Lived, not just with respect to Voldemort, but to all mankind. He learns what it means to be alive, what it means to die. From that moment on, his actions are his own, no longer dictated with respect to Voldemort, his parents, his teachers, or Death itself. He throws away the turning stone, no longer needing his memories of those gone before him to support him. He denies the Elder Wand, knowing the foolishness that lies in the pursuit of power through material means. He only keeps the Cloak. The means with which he can become one with the world around him, like air, and disappear, like the dead, but alive. Mastery of Death. Cool.
So having set out from the very beginning wanting to figure out why Harry Potter is so universally beloved, I think that I have formed a proper answer. As a youngin’, I didn’t quite understand. I saw adults going to buy a book for children, celebrating it, and I thought they were stupid and ignorant. In a way, I still do, though not for reading Harry Potter. Instead I think people are stupid and ignorant if they stop with Harry Potter. There are so many beautiful works of literature in this world; myths with morals to teach, fiction with excitement and experience to impart, philosophy to instruct and inspire; love, hope, terror, anguish, no less than the sum total of the human condition. Those who started and stopped with Harry Potter are deplorable in their self-imposed scarcity. To learn to love to read because of Harry Potter, that is good; to decide all other books are too boring or challenging, that is bad. In any case, my verdict on the Harry Potter series is as follows. The books are good and fine. They entertain, they delight, there is sadness and joy, and they are a classic hero’s tale. Perhaps people love them so much because they contain so much of life. We get to grow with a character, and as an adult, it makes me look back and remember times in my life where I fell in love, started school, made friends, learned a particularly neat skill, etc. I can now feel how Harry feels and anticipate what will come of it based on my own life. It reminds me of myself, not because our lives are similar in any meaningful way, but in their flow and flux. Life is beautiful and ephemeral, and surely Harry Potter is a celebration of life and all that is worth living. In its denouncing of Death, The Deathly Hallows elevates life.
The benefit of the Harry Potter series lies in the fact that people no longer really believe in the myths of old as they once did. Religion and religious sentiment are on the decline, and we no longer care for the same old stuffy stories that don’t relate to us. Even religious believers often admit that their mythology is simply what they acknowledge as true (or true-ish), and it doesn’t hold the same sway over them. Instead they go through the motions of ritual and tradition. Human beings have a real, intuitive need to understand the world; they want to see and understand it on contemporary terms and with respect to themselves. Books like the Harry Potter series provide a way to retell our old myths, fables, and morality plays that pleases us and doesn’t oppress us. The new mythology doesn’t tell us what to do, it shows us what we could do. It lets us celebrate in the life of someone who is living, while at the same time providing a source of experience to those yet to fully live. Harry Potter is a stupid kid; he is prone to anger, rash decisions, and stubbornness. His ignorance and inability to learn from his mistakes get him in trouble and get people killed. His only real claim to fame is that he is associated with famous people. Yet time and again, Harry does what he thinks is right. This is the most important lesson in the series. Harry, despite being imperfect, even downright shitty at times, always ends up doing what he thinks is right. He lives his own life, creates his own values, acts, and gradually makes his own achievements. His story concludes with him learning to live in Good Faith (to borrow from Sartre) with himself and the world which he inhabits. What better message is there for the young and old alike than to say: Live your life as you see fit: Live, Create, Strive, Value, and Die, knowing that you did so in the way you thought best?