Tag Archives: Slytherin

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how Harry Potter defeated Voldemort

Over the weekend, I responded to a Facebook post asking how the main character of the story I’m writing would respond if he were in the place of the main character of the last movie I watched. The last movie I watched happened to be Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2 (the odds were pretty good), and the main character in my zombie apocalypse story is Sam Larson, whom you can read about here and here. I said that Sam wouldn’t be in Harry’s position at all; he’d be in Hufflepuff minding his own business. But, I wrote, if he did happen to find himself in such a critical situation, he’d probably do what Harry did: sacrifice himself for his friends and accomplish a quiet, understated defeat over evil.

That last part surprised me as I wrote it. My character, Sam, is certainly quiet and understated. But what’s quiet and understated about the most epic battle between good and evil of our time? With wands and spells and people flying through the air and Hogwarts castle burning to the ground? The answer is that Voldemort isn’t defeated in a battle. He’s defeated after a battle. In the final movie, which follows roughly the last one-third of the book Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, the first half is loud and fast, with lots of cuts and lots of people on the screen at any given time. Then, when Harry, Ron, and Hermione slip away from the aftermath of the battle and witness the intensely private death of Severus Snape, things slow down. Harry watches Snape’s memories and learns his fate alone (and this is quite a long scene in the movie), and he walks into the woods to face Voldemort alone, except for the unseen presence of the spirits of his loved ones. When Voldemort finally faces Harry, there’s no music and no sound from the other characters, just Voldemort’s curse ripping through the silence.

A quiet, thoughtful conversation between Dumbledore and Harry ensues in Harry’s personal version of limbo, a whited-out King’s Cross Station (even the muted color creates a sense of hush in this scene). And when Harry returns to life, he stays silent, pretending to still be dead, until the right moment. Keeping quiet about his defeat of death is surely difficult for the ultimate Gryffindor, but Harry has learned wisdom to balance out his eagerness.

Once Harry reveals that he isn’t dead, chaos breaks out, and the battle resumes, but it isn’t the focus of the story. In the book, everyone eventually stops fighting and watches and listens while Harry and Voldemort face off and Harry gives a long, detailed explanation of the Horcruxes and why the Elder Wand doesn’t work for Voldemort–why, in fact, Tom Riddle is already defeated. In the movie, the conversation is much shorter, and the face-off has no audience; Harry and Voldemort fight alone on the ramparts of their mutually beloved school. Both portrayals, in different ways, value privacy over display and wisdom over physical force. Voldemort goes out, to quote T.S. Eliot, “not with a bang but a whimper.” And, in an anticlimactic but perfect move, Harry destroys the wand that brings about Voldemort’s defeat, knowing that it would come to defeat others.

Much has been written on how the valued qualities of all four Hogwarts houses are necessary in the defeat of Voldemort, but I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anyone explain how Harry comes to embody all four in the end. (I’m sure someone has written about this; I just haven’t seen it.) Obviously, Harry is most of all brave like the Gryffindor he is. He faces death, “the last enemy” as the Apostle Paul puts it. But he is also incredibly logical and thoughtful, like a Ravenclaw, figuring out the wand conundrum that still confuses me a little bit every time I read the book. He is wise in a different way, too–“wise as a serpent” (to use Jesus’ words), shrewd like a Slytherin, knowing when to hold back information and when to reveal it. And like a Hufflepuff, he gives credit to the others who participated in Voldemort’s defeat. Harry knows that although he is the Chosen One, his bravery, wisdom, and cunning would fall short if not for the friends he remains loyal to, even when (as he often is) he is tempted to strike out on his own. And not just friends, but surprising allies like Snape.

Well, shoot, I just made myself cry while blogging–AGAIN. Harry Potter fans, I’m interested to know what you think about all this. Let me know in the comments.

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guest post: “Slytherin will help you on your way to greatness”

Today, I’m pleased to be able to feature the work of our Slytherin correspondent, Andy Ford, who will be looking at the hallmark traits of the serpent house from a Christian perspective. Let him know what you think on Twitter: @Andy_Ford

“Or perhaps in Slytherin,

You’ll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means,

To achieve their ends.”

Pride.

Ambition.

Cunning.

Can a person be both a believer in Christ and a Slytherin? Can a person balance Pride, Ambition, and Cunning with following Christ? I’m not sure. I’d like to think so. I’d like to be both, a Slytherin and a Christian. I’d like to be one unified person, rather than have two sides of myself warring with each other.

The first problem for the Christian Slytherin, at least on the surface, is that Pride, Ambition, and Cunning are all things to which the Christian must die. Pride is often condemned, Paul warns against selfish ambition and vain conceit, and the serpent in the Garden is described as cunning. The question, then, is: can a Christian exercise Pride, Ambition, and Cunning while maintaining his or her witness? To answer this question we must first define terms. For the purposes of this discussion, I will use the word “Pride” to mean the opposite of humility, I will use the word “Ambition” to mean “a strong desire to do something, typically requiring determination and hard work,” and I will use the word “Cunning” to mean “having or showing skills in achieving one’s ends by deceit or evasion.”

So first, Pride. Pride is and has long been considered sinful; ask Thomas Aquinas. But is there a difference between, for example, Lucifer’s pride in Ezekiel 28:17, and being a proud alumnus of Liberty University, or being proud of a child when he succeeds at something he cares about. Again, the Pride I am discussing is the opposite of humility. One of my Graduate School professors taught me that all sin is ultimately idolatry, and all idolatry is ultimately Pride. Which means that all sin is Pride and thus all Pride is sin. As believers, we are instructed to die to ourselves daily and that includes dying to our own Pride. However, for every command against in the Bible, there is a command to. In the case of Pride, we die to it to embrace what I would call holy confidence. We are told to approach the throne of Grace with confidence. Confidence that we will not be turned away. That confidence has nothing to do with our accomplishments but has everything to do with the character of God. Brennan Manning (who is always a Win) wrote that God’s fundamental attitude toward us is one of affection. This affection directly contradicts Pride, because it is not dependent upon our own actions. Regardless of how holy or unholy we think we are, God’s attitude does not change. There is nothing we can do to change God’s attitude toward us; we are loved. Period.

This raises the question of how a Christian can exhibit the Slytherin trait of Pride without contradicting his or her walk with God. The answer, I think, lies in the type of Pride discussed. A person can be proud to be part of Slytherin House without falling into the sin of Pride. This does not mean being ashamed of being a Slytherin, or making excuses for the Sorting Hat’s decision, but rather it means that one understands both the benefits and the weakness of the House.

Ambition raises a slightly different question, although one that still has its own complications. Ambition is frequently pointed to as the defining characteristic of dictators and tyrants, like the titular character in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, but the Apostle Paul writes that we should do nothing out of selfish ambition, which implies that there is another type of Ambition that is not selfish, and I think that’s the type of Ambition Slytherin House should emphasize. Salazar’s personal desire for greatness aside, being a Slytherin is not about being the greatest ever for the sake of being better than anyone else. That way leads to Voldemort’s obsession with becoming the Master of Death. Instead, I think true Slytherin Ambition is about becoming the best version of one’s self for the sake of being better than one was. Hemingway wrote, “There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self,” and I think the same can be said for Ambition. True, Godly ambition is the desire to improve one’s self and the desire for continuous sanctification.

I’ll be honest, Cunning put me into a quandary. On the one hand, in the New King James Version of the Bible, the serpent in the Garden is described as Cunning. (The New International Version and the New American Standard Version both use “crafty,” while the King James Version uses “subtil.”) On the other hand, Jesus tells his disciples to be as wise as serpents and innocent as doves. As the symbol for Slytherin House is a serpent, I find this to be an interesting connection. So, which is it? Is Cunning evil or not? The problem is: Cunning implies deceit, deceit implies dishonesty, dishonesty implies lying, and lying is a sin. By telling his disciples to be as wise as serpents, is Jesus instructing his disciples to get what they want through deception? Obviously not. I think the proper, Godly use of cunning is in a sort of “it takes one to know one” sort of a way. The context of Jesus’ words is: he’s sending his disciples out into the world to spread his message, and he’s instructing them on how best to keep themselves safe. One of my all time favorite movies is Gone Baby Gone, and the film opens with the main character, Patrick Kenzie, discussing this exact question: “When I was young, I asked my priest how you could get to heaven and still protect yourself from all the evil in the world. He told me what God said to his children. ‘You were sheep among wolves. Be wise as serpents, yet innocent as doves.’” I think Jesus meant: you are about to enter a fallen world, be aware of how people will try to take advantage of you and do not let them. But, and this is the “innocent as doves” part, do not do anything that would compromise your witness. Do not be taken advantage of, but in your attempt to avoid being taken advantage of, do not take advantage of someone else.

Neither Pride, nor Ambition, nor Cunning is necessarily evil in its own right. They are simply traits, like having red hair or blue eyes. The question is: how will the person who possesses those traits make use of them? And that depends, in large part, on the character of the person. This is the important part. A person’s sorting says what traits they possess and says absolutely nothing else about the type of person sorted. The Sorting Hat makes no character pronouncements. There are evil Slytherins, absolutely. But there are also good Slytherins (not naming names; I’ve been in that fight before, and it’s not worth it). The point is: Slytherin is not necessarily “the Evil House of Evil.” It does seem to have a uniquely dangerous combination of virtues, especially when compared to the Integrity and Hard Work of Hufflepuff and the Intelligence and Creativity of Ravenclaw, but having traits that are perceived as negative is not the same thing as being evil. A person can balance all three while remaining a good person. The goal, I think, of being a member of any organization is to identify both the strengths and weaknesses of that organization and embrace both, making use of its strengths and avoiding its weaknesses. As Harry tells Albus Severus in the final scene of Deathly Hallows, it does not matter into which House a person is sorted as long as the person does their best and strives to be a good person. For a Christian, as long as he or she is open to the correction and guidance of the Holy Spirit, God will mold them into the type of person God wants them to be.

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“Satisfaction is not in my nature.”

I’ve recently read several books and articles that argue that nearly everyone’s deepest motivations can be placed into one of just a few broad categories, such as power or belonging.  I also recently read The Gift of Being Yourself, in which the author, Christian psychologist David G. Benner explains the ugly side of that same concept: everyone’s besetting sins can be traced back to a deep need they feel is unfulfilled, and that these deep needs can be organized into one of nine categories.  Of course, there’s infinite variety in the manifestations of our motivations, needs, and sins, but at the root, we’re all more similar than we like to think.

The title of my post is something that Loki, in an unusually honest moment, said to Thor in Thor: The Dark World.  His point was that taking revenge on those who had killed the brothers’ mother, Frigga, wouldn’t bring him any closure or contentment.  In fact, as is abundantly clear in the series of films, nothing can really content Loki, because he wants EVERYTHING: a throne, Odin’s respect, the world, the universe…and even that wouldn’t be enough.

Satisfaction isn’t in my nature, either.  I’m realizing that a lot of my surface-level sins and struggles–anger, for instance–arise from a deep desire to have it all.  Here are some examples:

I envy other people their talents.  Because I don’t want to just be good at writing and teaching.  I want to be good at everything.

I sometimes eat more than I should.  Because I want to try one of everything!  And maybe more than one.

I crowd my schedule and wear myself out by saying “yes” not only to too many work obligations and volunteer commitments, but also to too many fun activities.  Because FOMO.

The tricky thing about this lack of satisfaction is that most Western societies today act like it’s a good thing.  Contentment gets associated with mediocrity, laziness, and an unnatural lack of desire.  Lack of contentment, on the other hand, is repackaged as ambition (which is supposed to be good unless you’re talking about Slytherin House or Macbeth), willingness to change and improve, and an insatiable thirst for learning, excellence, awesome experiences . . . you name it.

This is one of the many reasons why the Christian message is so counter-cultural.  Today we use the term “sheep” to refer to lazy conformists who can’t think for themselves, but David in Psalm 23 and Jesus in the gospels use sheep as a symbol for people who admit their dependence on God and who are humble enough to receive, as a gift, something as simple as their daily food.  Content, satisfied people don’t worry about missing out, because they trust that what their shepherd has given them is exactly what they need.

I get where Loki is coming from because I have the same desires.  I mean, I don’t want to rule the Nine Realms, but I want to be the ruler of my own life.  But I’ve learned, over and over again, that I’m a really bad ruler.  I’m a sheep.  And I think I’d be a lot happier if I just admitted that.