Snape and the big moral questions...

J.K. Rowling's sixth Harry Potter book, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, is aptly named. This book really is about Severus Snape, Hogwarts' enigmatic Potions (and now Dark Arts) teacher.

Central to the story is the overwhelming question: whose side is Snape on?

Ever since they met in book one, Harry and Snape have loathed each other. Slowly, over the course of the next four books, we discover the story behind that mutual enmity, an enmity that is rooted in Snape's own experience as a loner and outcast, tormented by Harry's popular father during their school years.

And, even more important, we receive hints in book five that for some reason (which will become clearer in the final novel) Harry's mother, Lily Evans, took on a somewhat protective, big sister role in relation to Snape at Hogwarts. We know at that point that James Potter and Lily are destined to marry, produce one child and then die at the wand of Lord Voldemort. We don't yet have a clear idea of how the relationships presented in Snape's own memory in The Order of the Phoenix (with James Potter and Severus Snape seemingly mortal enemies and with Lily Evans protective of the latter and involved in a conflicted relationship with the latter) result in Lily and James married and Snape on the outside looking in.

Further, we discover that Snape was, in fact, a Death Eater and still bears the Dark Mark on his arm.

On the other hand, we also know that Dumbledore trusts Snape no matter what anyone else says. And, to be honest, despite behaviour on Snape's part toward Harry that is downright abusive in some instances.

Rowling very carefully establishes this important question: is Dumbledore right to trust Snape or is this just another instance of the aging Head Master choosing to trust where trust has not been earned? Is Snape still Voldemort's man or is he truly loyal to Dumbledore?

In the sixth book, Rowling takes great pains to convince us of the answer to this question. Snape, she argues persuasively, is still Voldemort's man. Dumbledore is wrong to trust him and pays for his error with his life at the end of the book.

We begin The Deathly Hallows hating Snape as much as Harry does.

And then find out, at the end of the final novel, that Dumbledore was, in fact, right and Snape was truly loyal to the cause of right and good.

That's a fairly long introduction to the moral issue I really want to address in this post: now that we know that Snape is a good guy, how do we feel/what do we think when we go back and read The Half-Blood Prince and hear Snape tell Bellatrix and Narcissa: "The Dark Lord is satisfied with the information I have passed him on the Order. It led, as you perhaps have guessed, to the recent capture and murder of Emmeline Vance, and it certainly helped dispose of Sirius Black..."?

Snape is a good guy and yet he helped bring about the deaths of two other of the good guys: Emmeline Vance and Sirius Black.

At its heart, this is a moral question. Is it morally acceptable to sacrifice at least two lives in hopes of avoiding the deaths of many many more?

Of course, Snape could simply be lying at this point, taking advantage of the two recent deaths to strengthen his argument that he is loyal to Voldemort.

But I don't buy that. Snape could not possibly have convinced the paranoid and overly protective Dark Lord that he, Snape, was a loyal Death Eater if he was unwilling to play an active part in the deaths of members of the Order. We see even more evidence of this at the beginning of the final book.

So can we forgive Snape the deaths of Vance and Black simply because Snape turns out to be a good guy? Is it really acceptable to argue that "the good of the many outweighs the good of the few, or the one"?

Even further, is it appropriate for Snape to sacrifice others on that basis rather than just himself?

I have long believed that Rowling has a very strong cold-blooded side to her, at least in her writing. She makes it clear throughout these books that, in times of war, good people are going to die.

Cedric's death, for example, is not strictly necessary: he was, in fact, a "spare" in that graveyard scene, as Voldemort calls him. His sacrifice was intended to 1) cement Harry's good side, 2) introduce the fact of death to the looming battle, and 3) provide an ongoing challenge for Harry's developing personal life in the next several books. But it was not absolutely necessary to the plot of the book.

Further, Rowling kills off Hedwig at the start of book seven and the beloved owl's death is particularly meaningless. Hedwig is killed by an errant spell while trapped in her cage, riding in the sidecar of Hagrid's motorcycle. Her death is merely collateral damage. (As I have mentioned elsewhere, the film-makers rejected this meaningless death and actually revised the scene to make Hedwig's sacrifice heroic: she flies in front of a killing spell to save Harry's life).

But, for Rowling, Hedwig's death was a way to show us, very early in The Deathly Hallows, that this was going to be a very difficult journey. That people would die. If she could kill off a beloved animal so casually in the first pages of the book, we knew she was prepared to kill of any of our favourite human characters as the story progressed. By killing off Hedwig, Rowling set up her reader to take nothing for granted, to understand that anyone (including Harry, Hermione or Ron) could die.

And, of course, there is Dumbledore's willingness to sacrifice Harry to ensure Voldemort is killed in the end. Even Snape finds Dumbledore's coldblooded approach to Harry surprising and chilling. I don't have the passage in front of me but I believe Snape describes the Head Master's preparation of Harry for the final confrontation with Voldemort "like preparing a lamb for slaughter" or something like that.

Rowling is, as a writer at least, incredibly cold-blooded.

But, from a moral standpoint, can we forgive Snape for the part he has played in the deaths of a number of very good characters simply because he was doing it for "the greater good"?

"Diagon Alley' is a breathtaking introduction to so many important things

Having taken a brief break to read some Jane Austen (which I thoroughly enjoyed, by the way), I am back to Harry Potter again and reading Book 1, The Philosopher's Stone, for the umteenth time.

I love coming back to this book after some time away from the whole Harry Potter world. It's so fresh and lively and exciting. I even find myself getting a slight taste of how it felt to read it for the very first time, when everything was completely new, but in some ways re-reading is an even more satisfying experience.

Chapter Five, 'Diagon Alley', is a particular gem in this book, especially when the reader knows what's to come in the entire series of novels. That's not to say that this first glimpse of the magical world wasn't enthralling on first reading! I felt just like Harry way back then: I wished I had eight extra eyes to take it all in.

Now that I know the rest of the books so well, however, I can appreciate how important this first visit to the Leaky Cauldron and the world beyond it is to the development not just of this first novel but of the entire Harry Potter saga.

Any number of characters who would play ongoing and even important roles are introduced in this chapter: Tom, the barman, Dedalus Diggle, Ollivander, Madam Malkin and, of course, Draco Malfoy all make their first appearances as Harry discovers his own magical world and his importance to its people.

Interestingly, we don't learn Draco's name until later, just as we have to wait to find out what Harry plans to call his new snowy owl, a birthday gift from Hagrid.

J.K. also uses this chapter to lay down several important (and perhaps not so important) rules for the magical world, rules which would have particular resonance in later books and particularly in Book Seven, The Deathly Hallows:

• from Hagrid, Harry learns that toads are no longer considered to be cool pets by the students at Hogwarts, which later gives us a very quick insight into the character and circumstances of Neville Longbottom, owner of the infamous toad Trevor;
• from our visit to Gringott's bank, we learn how dangerous it would be to attempt to break in, something Hagrid reinforces on several occasions in the chapter; isn't it ironic that, as the saga comes to a close, Harry and his friends actually do try to break into Gringott's and, with a little help from a freedom-seeking dragon, actually survive to tell the tale; and
• from Ollivander, we learn four important lessons which will play key roles in later novels: first, that the wand chooses the wizard; second, that a borrowed wand will never perform so well as a wizard's own wand; third, that the holly wand that chooses Harry has, as its core, a tail feather from the same Phoenix that provided the tail feather inside Voldemort's wand; and fourth, that the Phoenix in question (which turns out to be Fawkes, Dumbledore's own bird) gave up only those two tail feathers.

And, as I've mentioned before on this blog, we get a wonderfully written opportunity to understand a little bit more about the characters of Harry Potter and the pale, pointed face boy he encounters in Madam Malkin's robe shop. The unnamed Draco introduces us to the division within the wizarding community over the issue of pure blood versus "Mudblood", while displaying a conceited, haughty character that immediately turns Harry off.

In just 17 short pages, 'Diagon Alley' sets the stage for what is to come, both in the novel itself and across the entire series. It's no wonder we readers almost fail to notice that Rowling has also introduced us, and Harry, to the villain of that first book, Professor Quirrell, who comes across merely as another Harry Potter fan in the Leaky Cauldron.

I found this chapter so impressive that I had to stop and read it again. Great writing. Fabulous introduction to so many important things!

Waffling on who wrote A History of Magic

I started re-reading The Prisoner of Azkaban yesterday on the plane back from Toronto and two things jumped out at me.

The opening scene of the novel has Harry hiding under the covers of his bed at Privet Drive, trying to do his summer homework without being discovered by the Dursleys. As you will recall, Harry's uncle and aunt have forbidden him from doing anything related to magic or Hogwarts in their house so we find him, in his room, blankets pulled over his head, quietly reading his text on the history of magic.

First thing that jumped out at me: who the heck is this Adalbert Waffling and when did he write a competing history text to challenge the great Bathilda Bagshot? My paperback copy of the novel clearly states that Harry is reading A History of Magic by Adalbert Waffling. Interestingly enough, it seems that J.K. corrected this error in later editions of the novel. Does that make my little book valuable? And what does that do to the sanctity of the canon if Rowling can publish a book, then go back and "correct" it like this.

I would point out, of course, that Harry's relationship with this particular book (whether written by Waffling or Bagshot) is strange: in book one, he finds the name for his Snowy Owl (Hedwig) in A History; in the third novel, Harry reads this text in order to complete his History of Magic homework; but in later novels Harry claims never to have to opened it.

The second thing that jumped out at me was this: in the original novel, Harry is clearly described as reading A History in the light of a "torch" (which is the English term for what in Canada we call a "flashlight") because he is not allowed to do any magic outside of school. In the film version, however, Harry uses his wand and the "Lumos" spell to provide the light to read the book: a clear breach of magical law. Yet he is never punished for it. He fears that his accidental use of magic (blowing up his aunt) will get him expelled from Hogwarts but feels no compunction about using magic to help him read.

Ahh, if we spent our days finding all the inconsistencies in the movies, we'd never get anything else done, would we? Still, it's fun to point them out when they arise!

My six favourite creatures with names

Six days left. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2, is less than a week away. I offer my six favourite creatures with names from J.K. Rowling's books in recognition of the six remaining days of waiting:

6. Buckbeak/Witherwings, the Hippogriff;
5. Fluffy, the three-headed dog;
4. Errol, the Weasley's battered old owl;
3. Trevor, Neville's oft-escaping toad;
2. Hedwig, Harry's loyal snowy owl; and, finally,
1. Fawkes, the Phoenix, who saves Harry in book two and laments Albus Dumbledore at the end of book six.

There were many others who could have made the list: Crookshanks, Pig, Padfoot, Scabbers (well, not really, since he turned out to be the evil Peter Pettigrew), Hermes, Aragog, Arnold (the pygmy puff) and Norbert/Norberta. I'm sure there are others but I just can't think of them right now.

The Deathly Hallows Hits Hard Early

Hedwig is dead. Mad-Eye's been killed. Harry's gone nose to nose with the Minister for Magic and the wedding is about to be crashed by Death Eaters.

Wow, the first 150 pages of The Deathly Hallows are intense. I remember reading the book for the first time and thinking, when Rowling killed off Harry's snowy owl so casually in the early going, "She's not pulling any punches in this book; it's going to be a bumpy ride".

It was like the death of Hedwig acted as an early warning that the book would be dark and violent. I'm trying to force myself to read slowly this time, to savour every word, rather than getting caught up in the plot and tearing through the book.

I can't guarantee that's going to last. Rowling really rolls in this novel.