Please forgive my absence during the extended Spring Break at the electronic Hogwarts. I am in the process of finding work, submitting book proposals, responding to publisher proofs, re-writing Unlocking Harry Potter, studying Artemis Fowl, and doing what I can to become receptive to the life-changing graces available during Great Lent. I have five HogPro posts near completion, and God allowing, they’ll begin to go up next week. Thank you for your patience.
Into the breach of my inbox comes an essay from Adam Ross, an English major and senior, about ‘Power in Harry Potter.’ As he wrote to me: “Independently from classes, I’ve written an essay on how the Potter series views power and power relations (from a Christian perspective), focusing on the contrasting views of Harry and Voldemort and how they both respond to gaining power, especially when the Hallows are concerned.” The Christian perspective is never unwelcome here, so I offer it the HogPro All-Pros for your reflection and comments. Thank you, Adam, for sharing this with us.
Hallows or Horcruxes? Power in Harry Potter
There is no good and evil. There is only power, and those too weak to seek it. Lord Voldemort (SS, film version)
What do the Potter books have to say about power and our relationship with it? Is it good, bad, worthy of being sought, even hungered for? How does the view of power in the Potter epic mesh with the view of power laid out in Scripture?
We can never analyze what a work of literature is saying apart from its text. Literature analysis is not an abstraction where we can grasp at straws which may or may not actually be there. All works of analysis and criticism must hold the text as the absolute standard, and what the text portrays as good we must (in order to see the text for what it is) call good, and what the text portrays as bad we must call bad. So when looking at the Potter series, we must keep the text in mind as we look to what the story is saying about power. We must ask which characters are doing what and how the text portrays those actions.
Our modern era is one veritably obsessed with power; getting it, getting more of it, using it, and keeping it close. Even Christians are interested in power. Many evangelicals are actively seeking political power the same way as their secular opponents, and as Rev. Douglas Wilson notes, “Modern evangelicals have gained money, power, and influence, and it has been like giving whiskey to a two-year-old. The need of the hour is theological, not political. The arena is the pulpit and the table, not the legislative chamber. Before we are equipped to proclaim His lordship to the inhabitants of all the earth, we must live as though we believed it in the Church. ” (Wilson, Mother Kirk, p. 22)
Harry Potter
The key character comparison in the Potter books, certainly in terms of power, are between Harry himself and Lord Voldemort. Harry, of course, is the Boy-Who-Lived. The Avada Kadavra curse Voldemort used on baby Harry rebounded back upon him, leaving him a horrific dark spirit, not living and not dead (SS, pp. 12-13, 54-57). As a result of Harry being the focal point of Voldemort’s defeat, and as the only known survivor of the killing curse, he became famous. “He’ll be famous—a legend—I wouldn’t be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter day in the future—there will be books written about Harry—every child in our world will know his name!” (SS, 13)
Yet, despite his fame, he is kept with his muggle Aunt and Uncle, who treat him very poorly, “away from all that” fame (SS, 13). When he finally is reached by the wizarding world through the half-giant Rubeus Hagrid, groundskeeper for Hogwarts (SS, ch. 4), he has no desire for that fame. When it is discovered he is the Harry Potter on the Hogwarts Express, people begin staring. Instead of showboating, boasting, or feeling worthy, he “felt himself going red,” when they “gawked at him” (SS, 95).
As he sets out trying to attend classes at Hogwarts, he finds he cannot get away from his own legend: “Whispers followed Harry from the moment he left his dormitory the next day,” and “people lining up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at him,” but for his part, “Harry wished they wouldn’t,” (SS, 131). When wizarding celeb Gilderoy Lockhart draws attention to Harry in the Flourish and Blotts bookshop, the gathered crowd “parted, whispering excitedly,” and “burst into applause,” but “Harry’s face burned as Lockhart shook his hand for the photographer” and he “tried to sidle back over to the Weasleys,” (CS, 60). A photo taken of Harry and Lockhart has its problems, for when Harry is accosted by Colin, hoping for autographs, he finds the following:
A moving, black-and-white Lockhart was tugging hard on an arm Harry recognized as his own. He was pleased to see that his photographic self was putting up a good fight and refusing to be dragged into view, (CS, 106).
Harry, it seems, even in the first two books themselves, absolutely refuses to be taken in by vain-glory or inflate his own self-image, and always keeps his ego in line. Humility is nearly always Harry’s modus operandi and default opinion of himself in the books. In Goblet of Fire, he remains humble in the face of being the only fourth and youngest champion of the Tri-Wizard Tournament for all of the millennia of the game’s history. When he and Cedric are trapped in the third task and the Tri-Wizard Cup is only feet away, Cedric insists that Harry take the Cup for Griffindor for saving his life: “Cedric was serious. He was walking away from the sort of glory Hufflepuff House hadn’t had in centuries,” (GF, 634). If there was ever a moment (before Deathly Hallows) for Harry to seize at power, this would be the moment. He cannot deny he was tempted:
Harry looked from Cedric to the cup. For one shining moment, he saw himself emerging from the maze, holding it. He saw himself holding the Triwizard Cup aloft, heard the roar of the crowd, saw Cho’s face shining with admiration, more clearly than he had ever seen it before . . . (GF, 634)
This was the moment of truth. Would he take the power and the glory for himself, or would he give it up?
. . . and then the picture faded, and he found himself staring at Cedric’s shadowy, stubborn face.
“Both of us,” Harry said. (GF, 634)
Clearly what is important to Harry is not raw, merciless power or ambition so typical of Slytherin or even of Percy Weasley, who abandoned his own family for a bit of political power. Selflessness is the characteristic that shines forth from Harry’s actions. He cares for the Other even when it is disadvantageous to himself and his own goals, even when being selfless risks even Harry’s own life. In the confrontation with Quirrel and Voldemort below the halls of Hogwarts over the Philosopher’s Stone, Harry must look into the Mirror of Erised and see his deepest desires at that moment.
What he finds is both surprising and revealing: instead of wanting the stone’s power for himself, all he wants “is to find the Stone before Quirrel does,” (SS, 291). And as he thinks it, he finds the Stone materializes in his very pocket, (SS, 292). After the fact, he discovers that Dumbledore’s spell was very interesting: “You see, only one who wanted to find the Stone—find it, but not use it—would be able to get it,” (SS, 300). Only a person committed to selflessness, who kept the best interests of others before themselves, would ever be able to get the Stone. It is therefore the most astonishing example of Harry’s character that he managed to get a hold of it. He never wanted the immortality the Stone could offer, even though earlier he couldn’t even imagine anyone not yearning for the Stone:
“A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying!” said Harry. “No wonder Snape’s after it! Anyone would want it,” (SS, 220).
Yes, anyone. Except, apparently, Harry Potter. By the time he finds the Stone within reach, he is no longer interested in the Stone for itself, but to keep the corrupt Quirrel from gaining it. As it happens, Dumbledore was wise enough not to trust anyone who wanted the Stone selfishly to actually access it—they were not worthy. The only worthy candidate was the candidate that intentionally excluded themselves from the running; the only trustworthy individual wasn’t even looking for power, and as a result power was given, or bestowed to the one not seeking it. They were, after all, the least likely to abuse it.
Voldemort
Almost the polar opposite of Harry is Lord Voldemort, who above all else is seeking power—magical, political, even spiritual power over the hold of death itself. The difference between Harry and Voldemort could not be wider. Harry was born into a fame he did not want; Voldemort was born an orphan who determined to make the world remember him. In other words, Harry has fame and influence but never wanted it (who would trade their parents for fame?), and Voldemort was born into nothing, but desired everything:
“You think I was going to use my filthy Muggle father’s name forever? I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother’s side? I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me even before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch? No, Harry – I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world! (CS, 314).
Because Voldemort wants power, he cannot understand anything apart from magical might and the strength of violence. This is why he overlooked the protection provided to Harry by his mother and does not understand the true power of love; a power made powerful through the selfless laying down of power. Everything in Voldemort’s mind is measured by its might or strength:
Riddle began to laugh again. He laughed so hard that the dark Chamber rang with it, as though ten Riddles were laughing at once—
“This is what Dumbledore sends his defender? A songbird and an old hat! Do you feel brave, Harry Potter? Do you feel safe now?” (CS, 316)
Voldemort finds no power in Fawkes the Phoenix nor in the school’s Sorting Hat, and so he immediately dismisses them. “Let’s match the powers of Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin, against famous Harry Potter, and the best weapons Dumbelore can give him. . . .” (CS, 317). Yet, his confidence is misplaced, because it is exactly something so weak as a bird and a mangy old hat that destroy the Basilisk serpent and deliver Harry the greatest weapon he could ever have needed – the sword of Godric Griffindor. The lesson is very clear – apparent weakness delivers a strength beyond imagining – one must simply seek the right and you will be delivered. The basilisk’s tail brushed the hat into his hands, so he “rammed it onto his head” desperate for aid, and low and behold, a “gleaming silver sword had appeared inside the hat,” (CS, 319, 320).
Voldemort seeks the secret of immortality. He wants to have power even over death itself, through magical means. On his dark resurrection night he tells his Death Eaters he is disappointed in their lack of faith in him: “And then I ask myself, but how could they have believed I would not rise again? They, who knew the steps I took, long ago, to guard myself against mortal death? They, who had seen proofs of the immensity of my power in the times when I was mightier than any wizard living? . . . What I was, even I do not know . . . I, who have gone further than anybody down the path that leads to immortality. You know my goal—to conquer death,” (GF, 648, 653). He truly believes that “there is nothing worse than death,” (OOP, 814).
Voldemort is so desperate to escape death that he actually tore his soul into pieces and stored them for safe-keeping in objects of evil and dark magic—Horcruxes (HBP, 496, 499-506).
The Deathly Hallows
So, how do Harry and Voldemort respond when presented with the tale of the Deathly Hallows, the three most powerful magical objects in the entire universe? Long ago in antiquity, three brothers on a long journey encountered a “river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across,” (DH, 407). They were so powerful magically that they waved their wands and made a bridge from thin air and crossed safely.
Once they reached the other side, Death appeared to them, “angry that he had been cheated out of three new victims, for travelers usually drowned in the river,” (DH, 407). Death wove a deceitful yarn and told the brothers they had each earned a prize for defeating him.
The first and eldest brother, “a combative man” demanded a “wand that must always win duels for its owner,” (DH, 407) and so Death fashioned him a wand from a nearby elder tree and delivered to him the Elder Wand.
The second brother, “an arrogant man” who wished to “humiliate Death still further,” demanded “the power to recall others from Death,” and so Death gave him the Resurrection Stone (DH, 407).
The youngest brother was “the humblest and also the wisest of the brothers,” who “did not trust Death,” (DH, 408). He asked for something that would hide him from Death’s eyes, and Death gave him his very own Invisibility Cloak (DH, 408).
The eldest brother went to a distant village, naturally seeking out a fellow wizard with whom he had a disagreement, and with the Elder Wand, slaughtered him, boasting of stealing it from Death himself. That night, as the oldest brother “lay, wine-sodden, upon his bed,” a thieving wizard stole the Elder Wand and killed the brother, “and so Death took the first brother for his own,” (DH, 408).
The second brother went to his home, where he lived alone. He took the Resurrection Stone, turned it three times in his hand, and the shadow of his true love came to him, yet she was “sad and cold,” because “though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered,” (DH, 409). Finally, having been driven mad by longing for her, the second brother committed suicide “so as to truly join her,” and “so Death took the second brother for his own,” (DH, 409).
The third brother managed to evade Death for many years, though Death hunted relentlessly for him. But finally, having “attained a great age,” the third brother removed the Invisibility Cloak willingly and “gave it to his son.” When he did, Death found him, “and then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life,” (DH, 409). Together, it is said, the “three objects, or Hallows . . . if united, will make the possessor the master of Death. . . . Conquerer. Vanquisher,” (DH, 410).
Of course, the connection between Hallows and Horcruxes is very fine; they both seek power over death, Horcruxes through a deep perversion of nature by the rending of souls, Hallows through magical objects of ultimate power. They both have one thing in common, they are the response of fear—fear of death. Perverted as the idea of Horcruxes is—tearing apart the soul to remain alive—it is ultimately only a reactionary movement: I don’t want to die.
It is the same with the Hallows; with a wand that never loses, no one can kill you, with a resurrection stone you can (kind of) bring people back from the hands of death, and with the invisibility cloak death himself can never find you, but with all three the idea is one of fleeing.
The one with the Elder Wand will always worry that someone will kill them in their sleep and take the wand. The one with the resurrection stone will never really be with those they love who have passed on. And the one with the invisibility cloak can never be a part of the human community; no one can see them, and they are forced, because of their fear of death, to be the unseen and invisible man, always alone and always isolated from life. The third brother, then, seems to realize, no doubt in part because of his isolation, that it is better to have lived well and died than to have retained mere existence for an eternity by hiding from the world.
So is there really a difference between Hallows and Horcruxes? Yes, I think there is, in the sense that the Hallows are not evil per se, just misguided. We cannot run from death forever—it will get us in the end—so why spend your life worried about it? The wise man embraces death as an inevitability and leaps into its arms a contented man when at last it comes for him. The wise man accepts death and, like the youngest Peverell, “greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life,” (DH, 409).
Harry is initially tempted by the allure of the Hallows: “And he saw himself, possessor of the Hallows, facing Voldemort, whose Horcruxes were no match . . . Was this the answer? Hallows versus Horcruxes? Was there a way, after all, to ensure that he was the one who triumphed?” (DH, 429-430). “Everything fit, everything . . . His cloak was the third Hallow, and when he discovered how to open the Snitch he would have the second, and then all he needed to do was find the first Hallow, the Elder Wand . . .” (DH, 431).
Now Harry has a choice to make, possibly the hardest choice he has ever made. Does he trust Dumbledore and continue to hunt Horcruxes or will he abandon Dumbledore’s quest for the powerful Hallows? As Ron says, “I think we’re supposed to get rid of Horcruxes, Harry. That’s what Dumbledore told us to do. Maybe . . . maybe we should forget about this Hallows business,” (DH, 434) but “desire for the Elder Wand . . . unbeatable, invincible, swallowed him once more. . . .” (DH, 435) and he “could think only of the Deathly Hallows. . . . longing for the Hallows burned inside him,” (DH, 435). As with the Philosopher’s Stone, “anyone would want it!” (SS, 220)
Finally, only with the death of a close companion does Harry’s obsession with the Hallows break.
His scar burned, but he was master of the pain; he felt it, yet was apart from it. He had learned control at last, learned to shut his mind to Voldemort, the very thing Dumbledore had wanted him to learn . . . (DH, 478)
He could have used magic to dig the grave of the first free house-elf, Dobby, his friend, but instead he finally understands the truth:
He dug with a kind of fury, relishing the manual work, glorying in the non-magic of it, for every drop of his sweat and every blister felt like a gift . . . (DH, 478)
He finds this to be the climactic moment. Does he seize at power, or does he lay it down? “Horcruxes. . . . Hallows . . . Horcruxes . . . .Yet he no longer burned with that weird, obsessive longing. . . . now was the moment to decide: Horcruxes or Hallows?” (DH, 479, 484).
He chooses to have faith in Dumbledore’s quest; he would give up chasing the power of the Hallows (DH, 484). This choice is nearly a coming to terms with death, or the voluntary acceptance of a death sentence. Harry understands that if Voldemort locates the Elder Wand, even if all the horcruxes are destroyed, Harry would be facing down the great serpent king, who may very well wield an unbeatable weapon. And yet he chooses to lay down his quest for the power of the Hallows, and instead continue destroying evil, trusting in Dumbledore’s plan.
As a result, in the course of his quest to destroy all of Voldemort’s Horcruxes, he finds himself armed with all three Hallows. It was only in intentionally and consciously saying, “No, I won’t go after power,” that he really and truly was able to use them for good.
But there is a larger question, beyond what Harry Potter tells us about power. What do the Scriptures tell us about power and its pursuit, and how does that relate to Harry Potter? Do the two connect or is this truly a parting of the ways?
Well, that is the question, isn’t it?
The Garden of Eden
Our first parents were placed in the Garden of Eden. In the center of the garden were two trees, the Tree of Life and the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. Adam and Eve were forbidden to eat of the Tree of Knowledge, but were not barred from the Tree of Life (Gen. 2:9). In time, when they had lived faithfully and matured in their knowledge, the ban on the Tree of Knowledge would have been lifted (they would eat of all the trees eventually – Gen. 1:29). They were promised the whole world (Gen. 1:28-31), but serving in the garden would allow them to grow in maturity, and hone their judgment in discerning good and evil (Deut. 1:39; 2 Sam. 14:17; 1 Kings 3:9; Heb. 5:4).
The choice in the Garden was whether or not Adam and Eve would wait patiently in faith to be given authority, or whether they would attempt to seize power for themselves. Obviously, we know what they did. They tried to seize authority before they were ready and all mankind was enslaved to sin and death. This is inevitably what happens when people seize at power; they become enslaved (Gen. 3; Gen. 9:23-25a), but those who wait patiently to be bestowed with power are given greater and greater dominion and authority (Gen. 9:25b-26).
And we desire each one of you to show the same earnestness to have the full assurance of hope until the end, so that you may not be sluggish, but imitators of those who through faith and patience inherit the promises. For when God made a promise to Abraham, since he had no one greater by whom to swear, he swore by himself, saying, ‘Surely I will bless you and multiply you.’ And thus Abraham, having patiently waited, obtained the promise, (Heb. 6:12-15).
Power is only ever bestowed; those who seize it will lose it: “For every high priest chosen from among men is appointed . . . and no one takes this honor for himself, but only when called by God,” (Heb. 5:1, 4). The only way up is down.
Jesus, Crucified and Ascended
Of course, the greatest model of someone who lived and preached patience until he was bestowed great power is Christ. His entire ministry was the reversal of the powers: “Many who are first shall be last, and the last first,” (Matt. 19:30; Matt. 20:16).
“You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones exercise authority over them. It shall not be so among you. But whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be your slave, even as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many,” (Matt. 20:25-28).
It is in the cross that we see the greatest example of this. “None of the rulers of this age understood this, for if they had, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory,” (1 Cor. 2:6-8). Who would think that killing someone would make them more powerful? Yet, this is what happened on the cross. “He disarmed the rulers and authorities and put them to open shame, by triumphing over them in him,” (Col. 2:13-15).
Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father, (Phil. 2:5-11).
Clearly, then, Ms. Rowling understands the point of the gospel. The way up is always down. The humble are exalted, and the proud are thrown down. And, of course, Harry gives his life for his friends, returns and triumphs over Voldemort and his armies. Harry isn’t a Christ-figure, but he is a Christian—an imitator of Christ. Christ slew the dragon of Revelation, and so every Christian is a little dragon-slayer: “The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet,” (Rom. 16:20).
{ 16 comments… read them below or add one }
Many thanks to John for posting my little essay here.
He asked for some bio info for the post itself, and that I introduce myself to all you kind folks. I’ve loved the site and the engaging discussions here in the reply sections for over a year. Never posted myself before though. So may I say that it is a pleasure to greet all of you publicly for the first time!
I’m many things, but I am mostly a big Potter fan, a fantasy novelist hopeful (by which I mean, I would love to write fantasy novels one day, not that I am already in the course of getting published), a Christian (Presbyterian), a student, and addicted to orchestral film scores. I work, live, write, school and church in Ohio.
An excellent essay. Very perceptive of the connections. “When you are invited to a feast, take the lowest chair…so that the master of the feast may say ‘Come up to the place appointed for you’.” I think you really flesh out the need for selflessness so that the true self can be. “If any one lose his life for my sake, he shall gain it back” – full measure pressed down and running over- a weight of glory that shall increase from glory to glory – unimaginably more than one could ask or seek.
I think you demonstrate that JKR got that message very well and retold it very well. Preparatio evanglium IN DEED.
Adam, this is really a great essay! For a first-time contributor–and welcome!–you pack a punch. You’ve written a very good exploration of power in HP, beautifully tying it in with Scripture. I know your thoughtful essay was a lot of work.
What you wrote regarding Harry’s and Voldemort’s attitudes toward power was right on the money. Up is, contrarily, down (and if it isn’t, a severe price is exacted, as we continually witness through tyrants globally and within our own spheres). I liked how you wrote about the Horcruxes vs. the Hallows, explaining the differences and the methods each offered. Your expansion on the Hallows and the Garden was really fine.
As to Harry’s reluctance toward power, might I add an additional angle? Harry grew up with the Dursleys, where he observed and experienced the abuse and misuse of power daily. Dudley was foolishly given great power, to the degree he ruled his parents and friends, bullying all, but was not a happy child unless he got his way in all things…and, really, not even then. Vernon and Petunia misused their power over Harry continually and cruelly.
Harry was the continual target of abusive power from the Dursleys; he’d not known anything else. He spent his days trying to not be noticed and to survive. But he was constantly the innocent recipient of unearned wrath and hostility simply because he was different, because he came from “the wrong people.”
So, Harry was no stranger to the issue of power (and this set his radar a’twanging with Draco from the get-go).
I believe Harry’s discomfort with his fame in WizWorld was in part due to this. I think he simply craved being a normal, ordinary boy, something he’d never had opportunity to be. He’d never had a chance to “fly under the radar” and saw Hogwarts as an opportunity for normalcy in relationships, to be one of the crowd with his “own kind” and make real friends, to not be “different.” To be famous from the outset, stared at, etc., brought extreme discomfort because, once again, he was different and fame, although this time positive, made him again a target and came with the same kind of weight of expectation so traumatic at Privet Drive.
Still, Harry was all you say, pure and fine in character, humble and self-sacrificing from the beginning, as when he declared to Ron and Hermione in PS the necessity to face death in trying to find the stone to save the school. The only reason given for his temptation with the Triwizard Cup was his very natural and human desire to impress his crush, Cho. How painful that his selflessness cost an innocent life.
Thanks for sharing your work with us and adding to my appreciation of Rowling’s artistry.
Madame LaScrawny, peering into her glass water bowl, sees a writing future for you…
Excellent essay, Adam. I read it earlier and tried to post a comment but hit the wrong key and lost it.
Anyway, that’s quite something for your first post! Thanks for making all those connections and clearly outlining them. You said so many things that I’ve thought about when reading the books, but I’ve never put it all together in quite such a wonderful way.
Pat
A wonderfully insightful essay Adam, I loved it! What a contrast from Michael O’Brien’s take on “power” in Harry Potter!
I especially liked how you connected the Garden of Eden and the “seizing of authority.” This act of seizing or grasping at gifts that God is prepared to give us freely, all in good time and especially after having prepared ourselves for them, is truly the root of all sin. Lust, power, greed, all stem from our desire to impose our own will on God rather than humbly accepting His. “Father, if you are willing, take this cup away from me; yet, not my will but yours be done” (Luke 22:42). Many of us don’t even recognize our sins until we are able to evaluate our actions in this way.
Your thoughts are bang-on and very well expressed. God bless you and good luck in your future writing!
Many thanks for all the lovely responses!
inked, thanks for sharing those other verses with us. I completely missed them!
Arabella, I think your additional angle is right on the money. And I think Harry always did see a bit of Dursleyism in the wizarding world’s constant interest in him. There is, of course, a wealth of additional angles to take when analyzing the books in terms of power, but I had to stop somewhere.
I had planned on including a look at Dumbledore, the Malfoys, and other secondary characters in the paper (ironically not the Dursleys!), but finally decided it might dilute the thrust of the main contrast, Harry and Voldemort.
Eeyore, I hate it when you just hit the wrong button by accident and your stuff’s just . . . gone. A whole idea, swallowed up like it never was.
James P., right on the money there. You could expand in a lot of ways the Scriptural examples of waiting to be gifted with power; Cain vs. Abel, Noah, Abraham, Joseph, Daniel. I think too it isn’t simply imposing our own will on God (which we do a lot, so lets not forget that), but it is also imposing *God’s* will on God through our own timetable. Too often we’re like Sarah: “God promised us a child. He hasn’t fulfilled his promise. Maybe you should knock up the help.”
Thanks again for all your great responses! And thanks again to John for putting this up amid a week which included a 20 hour revision/proofing session for Tyndale and Looking For God.
Adam, as I read your thoughts on my comments, it occurred to me that you might have something serious in this–a book exploring all aspects of power in the HP books. (You were right to keep your focus on Harry and LV. You would have spread yourself too thinly and weakened your essay.)
Still, there’s a lot to explore about power in the books and you, as aspiring writer, might take it on, even if it’s only for practice and enjoyment. Who knows where it could lead you?
The Dursley’s tyranny and constant scrutiny would have a large impact on how Harry viewed and reacted to power. But what of power related to the Mauraders? Dolores Umbridge? Greyback? Snape? Fudge? The centaurs? The Goblins? Oh, my, so many characters that could be explored. I would read a book on this subject.
Curious Black is interested in everything…
This is so weird! That very thought had struck me today after reading *your* comments. The chapters could be short and focus on a character or characters (Dursleys, Malfoys, etc.) which then could move into the bigger thematic structure of the books and culminate in the Hallows vs. Horcruxes. Then a section of the book expanding on the Scriptural areas I just barely touched on, and maybe a chapter on Machiavelli’s The Prince.
One scene I would love to analyze for power is the scene in HBP when Harry turns down the chance to work with Scrimgeour in the Weasley’s backyard because he was “Dumbledore’s man through and through.”
Dang, now I’m excited about this.
*scurries off to work on an outline*
P.S. Your original discussion about the Dursleys got me to thinking that you really are right. Its how Harry has watched the Dursleys just trip over themselves keeping Dudley happy that is the deciding factor. And then I started thinking that possibly Harry sees that same “let-him-do-whatever, isn’t-he-grand!” attitude in the wizarding world’s constantly wanting to “make much” of him.
Oh, goody, Adam, always happy to encourage a fellow writer. Be excited…a great idea is a great idea.
I have two thoughts to share. One, Harry never used his power to advantage with his friends or schoolmates. He could have, but he didn’t, even when misunderstood, reviled, ridiculed and shunned. He never played the “Hey, I’m THE Harry Potter, you know; you ought to listen to me/never think I’d do that/be impressed with my amazing achievements/give me loads of respect,” etc., card. He’s forgiving. It’s interesting that when Harry first exercises any power, it’s to choose to leave with Hagrid for Hogwarts and to buy his new friend Ron a load of treats on the train with the first money he’s ever had, and not in a “show-off”-y manner.
Two, you might also consider the power of “bent” love: The Blacks’ and Malfoys’ love of purity causes the Blacks to alienate, eradicate and drive away their son and the Malfoys to raise a bully and imperil him. Neville’s grandmother’s worship of her son instills deep feelings of inferiority in her grandson, making him unsure, inept and the butt of jokes. (Even when he succeeds, she still compares him to her son.)
Xenophilus Lovegood’s love of oddity makes his daughter a lonely, oddball misfit. Mrs. Weasley’s love of her older children’s successes leaves Ron feeling inadequate and angry. The Dursleys create a spoiled brat. Bellatrix’ sick love for Voldemort makes her hideous. Merope’s deceitful love for Tom Riddle, Sr., brings about her suicide and an unbonded, unloved orphan psychopath.
And we have the “bent” loves of Tom Riddle and Dumbledore, and the respective consequences. There are others I can’t think of at the moment.
Of course, there are fine examples of positive love throughout the books, some even with the same people. For example, Mrs. Weasley again. Her warm love creates and keeps a healthy family and she always has room for more at her table; she becomes Harry’s stand-in mother. Narcissa’s love for her son saves Harry to defeat Voldemort. Kreacher’s love for Regulus drives him to endure horrors.
What does Scripture say about the power of bent and healthy love? For example, Harry exemplifies the 3rd beatitude, “blessed are those who: yield/restrain their power, keeping it under control/could, but refuse to be, agressive.” Actually, you could use several of the beatitudes as well as 1 Cor. 13 in talking about Harry and power.
Just something else regarding power to explore.
The kitties wouldn’t know “bent” love from a hairpin, because they get pure love (and treats) from me…
I like your term of “bent” love. And thanks for all the suggestions.
Of course there’s lots of stuff in Proverbs too, for instance, on power and wisdom. Like, the wise man listens to correction, but the fool is defiant (paraphrased from memory). Certainly Harry is the wise man and Voldemort (who didn’t listen to Harry talking about the Eldar Wand) is the fool who killed himself in his own confidence and refusal to be humble.
The closest he got to lording it over everyone else was at the beginning of Order of the Phoenix, where he’s complaining that Dumbledore doesn’t trust him – him, the guy who saved the Stone, killed a giant snake and a horcrux, tackled a zillion dementors, and won the Triwizard Cup. And later in OOP when they’re starting the DA and those present are all starting to get into the praise and adoration bit, he corrects them by saying he hardly did anything, and nearly every time he had help of some kind or another.
Adam, I respectfully disagree with the first part of your last paragraph. I don’t think Harry was “lording it over” anyone.
He’s filled with grief, anger and guilt over Cedric’s death, he knows the Order is on the move, yet he, with all his experience (which outstrips many adult wizards) and a personal stake, has been left completely in the dark; even his friends, at first, know more than he. That would be humiliating, confusing, hurtful and frustrating to anyone. Gosh, he’s 15 years old, full of passion and rarin’ to go. Then Dumbledore is completely, and puzzlingly, ignoring him (except for testifying for him).
Unfortunately, he nurtures the anger that overtakes him in the book and pays a terrible price for it. He’s human.
But I find it curious that Hogwarts seems to lack grief counseling and care for traumatized students. Think of Cho, as well as Harry. Cedric is killed, school ends with no apparent reaching out to them, helping them to deal with their feelings; for Harry an absolutely silent summer, then back to school, classes, shut out of Order doings, etc. It would be jarring and infuriating to an adult, much less a kid.
I think Harry shows his most critical and creative pre-DH use of personal power in the way he leads the DA classes, always encouraging and instructing, never tearing down, attempting to protect others with what he knows.
My opinion, anyway. And the kitties run when they see one coming…
Arabella, I’m not at all surprised that grief counseling is absent…this kind of supportive behavior would be *too Muggle-ish*, possibly perceived as a *weakness* in the Wizarding world. Consider how much physically- challenging-and-harmful interactions the magical community have on a regular basis that are considered quite the norm! That being said…I believe the Hogwarts staff was in as much shock as the rest of the school, and those in the Order were also dealing with the fact of LV’s return without giving away their allegiences. Remember, too; each House was designed to function as *family*…the students were encouraged to seek support from each other. Not always a good thing. Look at Cho’s attempts to get emotional relief through her relationship with Harry. (Perhaps this is not a good example since they apparently shared a physical attraction to each other as well.)
Would someone care to make a stronger argument here?
On the other hand, Magical Folk seem quite at ease with what we Muggles consider chaotic behavior and abnormally aggressive animal and plant life! The fact that the Triwizard Tournament was redesigned to PREVENT death speaks volumes…yet each of the three tasks would have resulted in death had magic not been involved!
Then, of course, we have the issue of manipulation by Barty Crouch, Jr/AKA Professor Moody…hence the *shock and awe* response from the Wizarding community. Basically, the whole Wizarding world (minus the DE and lesser followers) was in denial re: LV…so how does one counsel in the face of perceived impossibility?
On a positive note, our heroic trio, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, represent the three combinations of magical ancestry( Muggle/Wizard, PureBlood, & Muggle-born, respectively); therefore, we are privileged to experience the blending of the magical and non-magical worlds with their virtues and shortcomings alike. The three compliment each other…they bring balance to the relationship, strengthen each other during the low times, rejoice together in the high times, keep each other level-headed as best as possible. I think that in Harry, Ron, and Hermione, we see the *family* meant to exist in each of the Houses.
Perhaps, Arabella, the DA is the best example of *group therapy* we can find at Hogwarts?
PJ…valuing the opinions of HogPros
First, tonight we’re planning on the midnight premiere of the Wizard Rockumentary; please pray for our ears, and the late hours for early-to-bedders.
You have a point, PJ, about WizWorld being (or seeming) kind of indifferent toward those traumtized or hurting. Just imagine the disorientation to those “frozen” by the Basilisk, losing weeks and months of their lives and schoolwork, but they seem to just briskly move on.
Perhaps this reflects less on WizWorld than on British stoicism and the reality of British schools. And, of course, the books weren’t about grief…but that’s exactly what they were about!
Though I agree the end of GoF was a gobstopper for everyone, still the kids should have been taken care of by their Houses and maybe some of them were, though we’re never shown this (can you imagine Snape grief-counseling a kid? Boggles the mind!). But Harry in particular is left to flounder as he goes from end-of-year trauma to chat with Dumbledore (usually revaling more shocks) to isolation in a bleak bedroom for a summer to brood on all this, only relieved when he’s able to get to Ron’s, the most nurturing environment he has.
I think along with a book on power in WizWorld, there’s a psychology book on it, too. John has made great inroads so far on some aspects, but the subject could be fascinatingly broadened, studying various characters and situations. I look forward to such specific subject books in future.
To Fullatricks there is no future, only now, and she wants my attention in it…
I’m sorry….the second sentence in my first paragraph should read this way:
“Consider how many physically-challenging and potentially harmful interactions the members of the magical community have on a regular basis that are considered quite the norm!”
I confess to composing the post in mad-dash fashion in order to get out the door to donate blood. Ahhh, the life of the unemployed :-0
Hope YOUR job-search is going well, Professor.
I’d like to go back to the “power point” questions of Adam’s first paragraph. He asks if power is “good, bad, worthy of being sought, even hungered for?”
While we are taught to have servant hearts, I don’t believe Scripture condemns power itself. Power is one of those neutral things that can be used for good or ill, such as nuclear power, television, money, politics, etc. I don’t think you can simplifiy it, either, by sayng power (in its best sense) can only be bestowed. Power can be achieved through hard work and used for greatness or even modest goodness. So I don’t believe power is good or bad.
Should it be desired? Carefully. I think the proof is in the pudding. There are people who handle power and influence for good, such as Bono of U2 or Rick Warren. Then there are those who handle it badly, such as despots and Donald Trump. Then there are those who don’t seek power, but win it anyway through genes, wealth and position. Two examples would be Caroline Kennedy (good) and Paris Hilton (execrable).
Power will always be hungered for, it’s fallen human nature and some will seek/work for it more than others. But we should be alarmed over those (and ourselves) who hunger for power to arise over and control others (“whiskey in the hands of 2-year olds”), rather than to serve others and improve the world.
If Luscious Badboy would keep his power instincts under control and his claws sheathed, we’d have a more peaceful household…
Adam, thanks for sharing this very insightful essay with us.
I have actually written about the renunciation of power as a theme in Harry Potter, the Hobbit, and The Lord of the Rings in an unpublished paper. As you know from reading my book “The Lord of the Hallows,” the similarities between Rowling’s and Tolkien’s works are an interest of mine.
I thoroughly enjoyed reading your thoughts on this particular theme. Great work!
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