Raise a butterbeer to final tale

We Muggles won't completely ruin the end, but suffice it to say, it's fitting

By Mary Carole McCauley | Sun reporter

July 19, 2007

Editor's Note: The Sun obtained the book from a reader, who is a relative of a Sun reporter. The relative preordered the book from an online retailer and received it before the publication date. The Sun did not pay for the book.

Let's cut to the chase:

Does Harry Potter, teenage wizard, survive to the very end of the blockbuster series by J.K. Rowling?

Is Severus Snape, the greasy-locked Potions master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a misunderstood double agent on the side of Truth, Justice and Muggle Rights, or merely the cleverest and most diabolical minion of the Dark Lord?

And, which of the book's lovable major characters meets a premature, albeit noble demise? And the answers are (drumroll, please):

I'm not going to tell you.

No. Nope. Absolutely not, no matter how hard you plead. You're just going to have to wait until the book's official release at 12:01 a.m. Saturday to find out for yourself. (But fair warning: If you read on, you may learn more than you care to know.)

Suffice it to say, though, that once you have consumed the final sentence on the final page crafted by Rowling, the ending seems inevitable. It is a tribute to the author's consummate storytelling skills that once the pieces fall into place, it all seems rather obvious. No other outcome would have been as plausible.

Taken as a whole, the Harry Potter series is a classic bildungsroman, or coming-of-age tale. Rowling carefully structured each of the previous six books to teach Harry a valuable life lesson that always is summed up at the book's end by Hogwarts' headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.

So, in Book 2, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, the boy wizard learns that character is determined not by people's abilities, but by the choices they make. And in Book 6, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, our hero learns that even the people we love and rely on the most are fallible, and that we may have more in common with our sworn enemies than we dreamed.

Book 7 is about coming to terms with death. From Plato to Descartes, our greatest thinkers have struggled with mortality. And in crafting her own answer, Rowling heavily borrows from the Christian notion of resurrection and the wisdom of accepting our own inevitable disintegration and decay.

Much of the pleasure in Rowling's books has derived from the inventiveness and humor she has employed in constructing her imaginary world (with, for instance, portraits whose subjects travel from picture frame to picture frame) and in the author's psychological acuity.

Has there ever been a better symbol of depression than the Dementors, the icy, hooded beings who can suck the soul from a person with a deadly kiss, leaving merely an empty husk?

Readers could enjoy Rowling's temporary, folksy fix for chasing away the blues (eat chocolate) while applauding the more permanent balm she offers: Concentrate with all your might on the events and people that have made you happy.

Book 7 is no less penetrating, but it lacks much of the charm and humor that distinguished the earlier novels. Even the writing is more prosaic, less fanciful.

But, how could it be otherwise?

By Book 7, Rowling is no longer inventing her magical world. Here, characters are accustomed to it, so it holds few surprises for them -- and, by extension, for us.

In addition, Harry and his friends are no longer children. The early books, in particular, were enchanting because we could watch Harry and his friends struggling with exceptional powers, which they had not yet mastered. So a young witch or wizard would mount a broomstick for the first time and promptly be bucked off. It wasn't unlike watching real boys and girls take their first steps or learn to read -- skills every bit as magical and mysterious as casting a Summoning Spell.

Book 7, unlike the previous novels, also introduces no major new characters that could invigorate the story.

Because the three companions are no longer in school, there is no new intriguing, possibly dangerous Dark Arts instructor with whom to contend. And even such old friends as werewolf Remus Lupin, the half- giant Hagrid and, yes, even Snape are offstage for much of the book.