What else would I be talking about today?

I’m relieved that the clue planted early on — that Voldemort could only put his soul back together by feeling remorse for his actions — was a red herring. When I hit that I had a horrible dread that the rest of the book would turn into some soppy redemption tale.

I’m equally relieved that the plot didn’t devolve into a Progress Quest-like series of MacGuffin hunts: “Hooray, that was Horcrux number five, and look! Underneath it, a Hidden Clew pointing to number six! Collect ‘em all!” I’d been vaguely worried about this since the end of book six; so many fantasy plots revolve around a series of Collect The Magic Foobars, and it would’ve been very easy for that to happen here. Yes, the macguffins were collected, but the story wasn’t on railroad tracks; I appreciated the month they spent lost in the woods, with basically no idea what to do next.

I’m happy that there was a reason He Who Cannot Be Named really shouldn’t be named. Nice touch.

I loved that most people don’t fall neatly into black hats and white hats. Good guys have flaws; bad guys turn out to have some good in them. More importantly, a lot of peoples’ motives have nothing to do with Harry or his quest. (Scrimgeour dies protecting Harry, even though they have totally different ideas of how the fight should be fought. The Malfoys aren’t evil, just utterly self-absorbed. Luna’s dad just wants to save Luna. Snape has his own separate plot, beautifully revealed, to which Harry is basically irrelevant.)

This has always been one of the things that I’ve felt differentiated the Harry Potter books from most fantasy or children’s books: it doesn’t feel like the world is just sitting around waiting for the main characters to reach them, and then help or hinder them according to which team they’re playing for. All the way back to the centaurs in the very first book, the other races — particularly the goblins — have their own morality and their own goals that don’t necessarily mesh with the wizards’ world. (The movies completely screw this up; Chris Columbus’s version of the first meeting with the centaurs is, literally, “Hello, Harry! We’re here to exposit for a while, and then send you on your merry way! Good luck!”) I was a tiny bit disappointed to see them join the final battle: the house-elves definitely had reason to, what with Kreacher (and the memory of Dobby) egging them on, but we’re not shown any reason for the centaurs to now, finally, take sides — well, the “halfbreeds” thing from the Ministry, sure, but that goes back a book or two. (ETA: ...and wasn’t even Voldemort’s doing, now that I think of it.)

Speaking of which: the Ministry’s fascist response to the war, which starts even before its undermining by Voldemort: the interrogations, the racial purity laws, the rounding up of “Undesirables” — and on the other side the graffiti at James and Lily’s house, Radio Free Potter, the resistance at Hogwarts... this wasn’t exactly subtle, but it wasn’t meant to be. If we’re to judge these as childrens’ books — and I’m not sure if we are or not anymore — this was a pretty deftly handled political lesson: evil doesn’t only come from the guy with the snake nostrils and the big wand, but from the average wizards’ complicity through fear... that’s really quite something. It’s never made clear if Umbridge is a Death Eater or just a totalitarian. Doesn’t matter. Same thing.

Plotwise, there really didn’t need to be the big showdown at Hogwarts. But c’mon, you have to have the big showdown at Hogwarts, it’s not an epic without a climactic battle scene. Besides, you’ve got to give Flitwick and McGonagall and Sprout and Neville and Mrs. Weasley and even professor Trelawney their moments. Trelawney. I think that may be my single favorite scene in the whole book, the enraged lunatic seer shooting crystal balls around like cannonballs.

Finally — I’ve been reading other peoples’ posts, and it seems like a lot of people dislike the epilogue. I loved it. First off, I really needed to be let down gently after that final battle; I needed more pages to turn, simple as that. And second, the epilogue felt like Rowling definitively putting her foot down and saying, No. There will be no more sequels, we will not milk this. Harry is finished, this story is complete, they all live happily ever after. The. End.

Oh, and I’d also like to mention that because I’ve been sitting out on the deck reading since about ten this morning, I have an unbelievable sunburn. Kinda lost track of time, there.