the last day of school

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Ch. 26-30

And so the final pieces go clunking into place.

I’ve been thinking about how Dumbledore is the dream English mentor: constantly unruffled, calm, always ready with a quip or judgment. His collapse in front of Harry while drinking the potion is of course suppose to be shocking in contrast to this, but like so much else in this book, it just feels over-written. Dumbeldore has every answer.

In previous books, the point has been for Harry to apply what he’s learned over the course of the year. It’s a pattern that had fallen into predictability to a certain extent, but it left all the problem-solving firmly in the hands of Harry and his friends. But this time, Dumbledore’s here to solve every step. The quest to fetch the Horcrux does not feel particularly perilous, because it seems inevitable—even at the lowest moments—that Dumbledore will know what to do. And he does.

Of course, like last time, we have a double climax: the quest, and the death. Harry’s exposition prop gets kicked out from under him, and he’ll have to go it alone to find the rest of the answers, the rest of the Horcruxes. But that’s what he’s been doing up to this point. While we’ve been made increasingly aware of Dumbledore’s guiding hand throughout the books, and while he’s always been around for a concluding debrief, I felt very aware this time through that actually, Harry’s generally figured things out on his own. The loss of Dumbledore’s smooth implacability simply didn’t hit me in the same way. The kind of comfort his apparent steadiness provided already felt hollow.

That said, the funeral is fairly moving—and it does feel like the farewell to Hogwarts we never properly get (but more on that in the next book…). But it’s just not enough to rescue what has really been a startlingly clumsy book. This is the book where I have very uncharitably but distinctly begun to feel the editor has taken as step back. So many things feel half-baked. The hospital wing sequence where Molly decides she likes Fleur and Tonks reveals her love for Lupin is just so staggeringly clunky. There must have been better ways to convey this information, or at least to create a clearer sense that everyone is acting utterly bizarrely out of exhaustion and grief?!

The Half-Blood Prince reveal likewise feels perfunctory (and again, just weirdly badly handled—why would Snape call himself by that name, even if he knows Harry has the book??). For the thread of mystery that has sustained the book (along with Harry’s suspicions about Draco, which were of course 100% correct), it really doesn’t matter at all in the end. The title and this reveal suggest that throughout the book, Harry has been driving towards Snape, the pair on a collision course perhaps without knowing it. But it doesn’t all slot together.

I just can’t work out what this book is trying to say. The grouping of RAB (which we won’t fully learn about until later), Draco’s inability to kill Dumbledore, Snape revealed as the Half-Blood Prince… it feels like there’s something about not making judgments, about not jumping to conclusions, about maintaining hope that people can and do change. But Harry was right about Draco, and Draco did put the pieces in place to cause Dumbledore’s death, even if he didn’t pull the proverbial trigger. Snape and RAB were Death Eaters, they hurt and killed people. How much patience are you supposed to have? How hard are you supposed to hope?

But the mentor is gone. The quest is explained. Harry’s stunned, in the final paragraphs, that weddings will still happen, that the world will still move forward. He breaks up with Ginny, who of course is proud and understanding and patient and doesn’t cry. The stage is set for Harry and his friends to see it through.

Next time: We begin the final book! It’s Chapters 1-6 of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.