Spellbound:

If Harry Potter Can't Save Us From Ourselves, Who Will?

by Julene Snyder

 

You know things are serious when the apathetic stop shrugging and start paying attention. By the time they do, the lines have long since been drawn deep in the sand, dividing good (us) from evil (them). Of course right will prevail in the end, because it simply must.

            If only the dividing line between good and evil were as clear in this world as it in the wizarding world. Sure, there is ambiguity aplenty in J.K. Rowling's latest, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Some characters we thought we knew surprise us with their traitorous acts. Others turn out to be more worthy of pity than loathing. And even as our hearts break, there is a slim ray of something that just might be hope, probably misguided, but unquenchable, nonetheless, that maybe, just maybe, death doesn't have to mean goodbye.

            But meanwhile, here in the land of Muggles, the news is unrelentingly bad, and our heroes keep disappearing on us. Perhaps that's why 6.8 million people bought the latest Harry Potter opus this past weekend, hoping to lose themselves, if only for a short while, in Quidditch and Apparation, in the psychoanalyzing of Lord Voldemort (who, it turns out, had a really crummy childhood), in rooting for teenage romance and its obligatory snogging. Retreating to fantasy seems as healthy a reaction as any when each morning's paper is filled with suicide bombers, cops shooting toddlers and grim new body count records being set in our perpetual war on terror.

            And yet Rowling doesn't let us off the hook that easily. In the very second sentence of this 652-page opus, someone recognizable makes an appearance when the British Prime Minister ruminates at his desk while he waits "for a call from the President of a far distant country, and between wondering when the wretched man would telephone, and trying to suppress unpleasant memories of what had been a very long, tiring, and difficult week, there was not much space in his head for anything else." Hmm. Sounds familiar.

            "Harry has taken the view, I think, that they are now at war," Rowling told Katie Couric on Sunday night's Dateline. About time, too, given what the kid's been through (murdered parents, murdered godfather, murdered friend, sworn enemy of the most powerful wizard ever, etc. etc. etc.). Yes, it's war for our boy, who's rapidly becoming a man, and as anyone who's been paying attention knows, war is not for the fainthearted. It's a messy business, filled with body bags and doublespeak, with talk of acceptable casualties, collateral damage and the dismissing of insurgents as fanatics who deserve exactly what they get. Oops, sorry, got the two worlds confused there for a minute.

            But there are parallels here. The new Minister of Magic tries to enlist Harry as a sort of "poster boy" for their side, and we give a silent cheer when our hero sees through the man's unctuousness and stands up to him, calling him on the unjust imprisonment of an innocent: "You're making Stan a scapegoat," Harry says. "Just like you want to make me a mascot." Good one, Harry! But our boy's not done yet. "You never get it right, you people, do you? Either we've got Fudge, pretending everything's lovely while people get murdered right under his nose, or we've got you, chucking the wrong people into jail."

            Yes, we've got our own version of Azkaban, a little place called Abu Graib, and we've got our own sycophantic bureaucrats putting spin on their latest talking points, and we've got our own Dark Lord du jour, whether he's called Saddam Hussein or Osama Bin Laden, and there will always be an unbeatable foe, and by God, if Oceania is at war now with Eurasia, then we have always been at war with Eurasia. And if all else fails, blame it on Bill Clinton.

            So yes, we run out and buy our copy of Harry Potter, and we lament that it may be another two years before Rowling finishes the next (and the last! sob!) book, and we pat our copy of Half-Blood Prince a bit regretfully when we've read the last page. Because for a time, a day or a week or a month, we were somewhere else. And yes, there is a war raging there as well, but they've got a bona fide hero, one who has enough sense to shrug off claims that he's "The Chosen One," a hero who finally, and satisfyingly gets the girl he deserves, a hero who makes mistakes and learns from them, a hero who realizes that sometimes he's wrong, a hero who has the guts to change his mind and to rethink his position, a hero capable of feeling pity for even his sworn enemies.

            Sounds a bit like magic, doesn't it?