I
have begun to re-read the Harry Potter saga – and watching the movies in
tandem. Already finished HP and the
Philosopher’s Stone (and now into The
Chamber of Secrets).
This
time – maybe this is a regression to the child’s mind – I am reading primarily for the thrills, chills and spills. Yet, all
those wonderful words of Dumbledore’s come back…
‘Ah,
music! A magic beyond all we do here’.
‘It
does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live’.
‘The
trouble is, humans do have a knack for choosing precisely those things which
are worst for them’.
And
the grandest utterance of them all: ‘… to the well-organized mind, death is but
the next great adventure’.
Christ,
he said that in the very first book. The awareness of the inevitability and
perpetual nearness of death has been a continuous thread all through the saga.
And one of the dumbest real people I have had the misfortune to know, once a teacher
(!) in a local girls’ school, scorned these as ‘children’s books’. God
help us.
[some new readers might want to read what I wrote on the subject of Harry Potter last time round]
3 comments:
Sir,
I find myself re-reading Harry Potter, Lord of the rings and rewatching the movies more friequently that I would like to. If you love fantasy and would like to spend a considerable amount of time in a single universe which is probably as complex as Mahabharat then you can surely try the Malazan novels.
With love,
Priyankan
Dear Sir,
The Dumbledore quotes also reminded me of the poem 'Swimmers' by Louis Untermeyer where he mentioned..."Death is but a long and vivid holiday.".
With regards,
Saikat.
Having recently finished listening once more — perhaps the umpteenth time — to Stephen Fry’s narration of the Harry Potter saga, reading your two posts felt like revisiting a world that grows richer with each return. What you call a “regression to the child’s mind” seems instead like reclaiming the child’s wonder, now sharpened by adult insight. As the Gita reminds us, the path to wisdom often requires stepping onto the battlefield of life fully aware, much as Harry must step into his own destiny.
What fascinates me on rereading is how early Dumbledore’s lines carry their full weight: “To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure,” “It does not do to dwell on dreams,” “Ah, music! A magic beyond all we do here.” Hearing Fry’s calm, expressive narration brings home that Rowling planted these seeds deliberately, the way Vyasa threaded the wisdom of Krishna throughout the Mahabharata long before the climactic revelation.
Another layer I noticed on this pass is the Dickensian influence, especially from A Christmas Carol, which Rowling has acknowledged. The Dementors echo Dickens’ ghosts, forcing Harry to confront the darkest parts of himself, while the Patronus mirrors the “luminous potential” of one’s better nature. Even the time-turner sequence evokes Scrooge’s journey through past, present, and future: moral reckoning, not mere adventure, lies at the heart of Rowling’s story.
Yet, for all its grandeur, the saga remains rooted in a Western imagination. Characters like Parvati and Padma Patil largely exist as token representations, linked to Divination and fortune-telling, which reduces them to shallow stereotypes. It is a far cry from modern Indian identity or from the rich moral complexity Rowling grants her Western characters — a reminder that even the most magical worlds reflect the limits of their creators’ cultural lens.
The true emotional core, as you eloquently noted, is the triangle of Dumbledore, Snape, and Harry. Dumbledore embodies serene wisdom tempered by fallibility; Snape represents tragic loyalty and unseen courage; Harry is the bewildered yet destined youth, forced to choose, like Arjuna, between comfort and duty. “Light your own lamp and be your own guide,” echoes Buddha (as you have mentioned several times), as does Dumbledore’s insistence that Harry now walk alone. Snape’s torment, his hidden sacrifices, and ultimately Harry naming his son Albus Severus, encapsulate the saga’s greatest moral insight: courage and virtue often appear in unglamorous, even painful forms.
Reading your posts side by side, I am reminded that Rowling’s world continues to offer more than entertainment. It is a moral universe, a philosophical meditation, a mirror to our own struggles, and, as you wrote so beautifully, proof that the world is still full of magic — if only we have eyes, or a heart, to see it.
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