Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

If one is inclined to say so, and one most definitely is, the six hours spent with Harry Potter were the ideal way to spend a Sunday afternoon. I woke up this morning (or rather around noon) in another tizzy: I had to have Harry Potter in my hands before the sunset. I faced the challenge head on by calling Wally World.
“Umm… Harry Potter was supposed to be here yesterday. It did not show up. Thoughts?”
“Well ‘mam, as I’m sure you aware, the demand is high and the order is still processing.”
“Hmmm…. Perhaps you don’t hear me: I don’t have my Potter. I need my Potter.”
“Since the order is still processing you could potentially cancel the order.”
“Score. Let’s do that.”
I cancelled the order, got on my broomstick, and took off to Diagon Alley to find a copy. For the sweet price of $17.99, I had my own Harry. It was about 2pm when we got back to the house. I should mention that I began reading the book on the way back. For once, I praised the many stoplights on Cary Parkway. I read for three hours, took an hour-long break, and then read for the final three hours. I suggest you back slowly away from the blog if you do not want to know any of the book’s secrets.


Minus the neat little, slightly unrealistic, tie-up at the end, this was a fantastic book. It was the sort that I dreaded nearing its conclusion. I want 700 pages more. 7,000 pages more. I simply just want more. But what I do not want, what I hope never happens, is the story of Rose and Scorpius. From my lips to Rowling’s ears – please no “offspring” stories. And with Teddy,while it may be tempting, she has to realize that the story would be useless: the orphaned son of Tonks and Lupin would claim a story much like another orphaned boy.

The one thing that continually surprises me about Rowling’s novels is how for all the wizardry and witchcraft afoot, the bare bones are much simpler, much more real. The Hogwarts series is about family, love, belonging and how the human desire for all three propels our actions.

Consider Hermione, whose love for Ron and Harry constantly have her doing what she knows to be “against the rules.” But look beyond that childhood affection, beyond the happy threesome – in the final installment Hermione puts her parents under a spell so that they forget they have a daughter. She does this for their safety, as she knows that, as her parents, they will be questioned. She also does this to spare them in the event she dies. I realize that this is questionable, is erasing all memory of her really sparing their hearts?, but she’s doing what she thinks is best.

And what of Percy, who comes rushing to be by his family’s side when the battle cries sound? Or Mrs. Weasley who commands the floor when taking on Bellatrix with a “NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!” Or even Snape, whose entire adulthood has revolved around keeping Harry Potter safe because of an intense love that he could never have. He risked so much, indeed his very life, for Lily Evans and by bestowing his memories upon Harry he insured his own immortality. Albus Severus, the only son of Harry with Lily’s eyes, has large shoes to fill.

And let’s consider the Dursley’s when they leave, Diddykins in particular. We all know that Harry is insistent that they leave for their safety, but it is so touching when Dudsley wants to know why Harry isn’t coming with him. He doesn’t want Harry to be in danger. It’s a sweet moment.

And the Malfoys -- the things Lucius and Narcissa do and risk for Malfoy. It's love. A twisted kind of love but in their quest for glory, they do not abandon their son. I was quite touched when Narcissa asked the supposedly dead Harry if Draco was alive. I had written the whole family off as a lot of cowards. In telling good ole Voldy that the Boy Who Lived no longer lived, she risked her life just for a the news that her son had not perished in the struggle. It is something we should all strive to remember -- everyone has a mother, or someone, who loves them.

I would love to spend more time on the role of love, family, and belonging and perhaps I shall another day. Now on to the sex. (You got excited for a minute there – thought that there was some hot sex in the novel did you? Maybe you, like me, wondered what color Tonks’ hair turns when she is sleeping with that hot werewolf. My apologies. Nothing so overt. Though, I did fear briefly that Hermione would be raped.) The physicality of sex is also something apparent but not glaring. The way Ginny kisses Harry as she’s never kissed him before. How Hermione launches herself into Ron’s arms with the kiss that has been coming for seven years. The crude remarks Hermione draws on more than one occasion. There is a part, a mere few lines, when Harry is watching Bellatrix, who has a very sexual aura around her. It would appear that she is, or wants to be, all up in good ole Voldy’s pants. (His scream at her death also would suggest that there was a little Dark Arts going on under the sheets but it would also suggest that Voldemort had feelings, which, as we all know, is what separated him from Harry.) But there is a part in the book where Bellatrix is excited and breathing heavily, very aroused, and looking at her heaving chest, Harry is reminded of Ginny. This is not a “look evil in the face and remember why you want to live” kind of moment; it is sexually charged, animalistic, and raw. I liked it, Rowling. I liked it even better that Harry did not know why Ginny would cross his mind at such a moment.


The deaths in this novel are tragic, but it is a war. The two that hit hardest for me were Hedwig and Dobby, especially Dobby. I only hope that they do not write out the scene where Harry insists on digging the grave the “muggle” way when they script the final movie. Fred was quite the surprise as well. I didn’t expect her to halve the hilarious twins who so often appear as just one person. Percy would have been a better choice if you ask me.

In short, the book was good—quite possibly my favorite of the seven. I love Harry Potter even more now. Even more. Curse you, Rowling; I never intended to care.