Everything feels different in this, the seventh and final book of the Harry Potter series. That’s as expected in the aftermath of the sixth book’s devastating conclusion. Having lost his beloved mentor Dumbledore, Harry has made the decision to forgo his last year at Hogwarts and undertake the mission given to him by his departed headmaster: to destroy the Horcruxes containing the pieces of Lord Voldemort’s soul in order to destroy Voldemort himself.
Accompanied on his quest by Hermione and Ron, Harry sets out without much of a plan. Dumbledore didn’t give him much information to go on, so the trio of friends are flying blind. They are also in constant danger, a state they share with most of their friends. The Death Eaters are in ascendancy, having taken over the Ministry of Magic. They canvass the country searching for Harry, making it too dangerous for his classmates at Hogwarts or the Order of the Phoenix to assist him.
This separation from their families and friends tests Harry, Ron, and Hermione in many ways. They disagree on how to approach their quest, and find themselves bickering and sniping at each other all the time. Likewise, the reader will find themselves anxiously turning these pages. I found myself really missing the gang back at Hogwarts, and thrilled at every glimpse we got of what they were up to. It’s tempting to think of this as a structural flaw of the novel, but really it just makes the eventual reunions in the books final third all the sweeter. Rowling expertly placed the reader into the same mindset as Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and the payoff is exquisite.
The book’s conclusion, also the conclusion of the saga itself, was surprisingly emotional for me. The collective weight of seven books worth of events bore down on me. As the remaining pages dwindled, I got nervous about who would and would not make it to the final page. I thrilled at the final confrontation with Harry and his friends on one side and the Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort on the other. I thrilled in a way I haven’t since I was a much younger reader as heroes rose to the occasion, and fell into despair as they fell despite their courage. The losses hit hard, a testament to the power of the writing across the series. Even tertiary characters came to mean so much over the course of the series.
i began this journey with plenty of skepticism. I had avoided Harry Potter for decades, first because I thought I had matured past children’s literature, then because I was snobbish enough to look down on their popularity, and finally out of a general wariness towards fantastical stories. Reading this septet of novels, and enjoying them as thoroughly as I have, has really made me question how valid my own biases are. Do I actually genuinely dislike stories about magic and magical creatures, or have I let a caricature of the typical fan of these stories color my worldview? What other wonderful stories have I denied myself out of a stubborn resistance to reconsider my tastes?
I finished Deathly Hallows very late last night, stupidly costing myself a good night’s sleep because I couldn’t have fallen asleep anyway without knowing what happened to Harry and the rest. I spent a decent chunk of my day looking up characters like Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom on the Harry Potter wiki to see what happened to them in the expanded universe. I started the series with fairly low expectations, only to find that these stories will linger on in my memory for a long time to come. What more can you ask for than that?
