Good, Evil, and "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone."

Some thoughts on the first Harry Potter novel.

“Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn’t realize that love as powerful as your mother’s for you leaves its own mark… to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed, and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good.”

Starting off with a quote—a preferred lazy way to begin a piece of writing.¹ This method is doubly lazy if the quote is emblematic of the central theme that you are trying to convey, and triply lazy if the quote is tediously long, saving you the trouble of deciding which words to leave out. I’m often tempted by tricks such as this, especially when it’s late at night and the blank page looms large and I’m desperate to get something down before the sun rises and my consciousness wanes. Often, the first paragraph is the hardest to wrangle together, when I’m still in my own head and the piece I’m writing still hasn’t found its direction.

If J.K. Rowling shares this trouble with beginnings, she hides it well. I’ve recently finished reading Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone,² which starts the Harry Potter series off beautifully. Like any good introduction, the book exemplifies an overarching theme that will go on to connect the entire series. Interestingly for a series that centers around magic, the book starts off with a vivid picture of normalcy—a description of our titular protagonist’s Muggle family and their darkly comedic aversion to any slight departure from bland, ordinary suburban life.

These introductory pages already suggest some deeper meaning. How can the hero of this story, a boy with magical powers and a backstory which makes him extraordinary even amongst other wizards, be related to such dull, stunted people? People who treat him horribly, no less? This is a common theme in narrative: a hero who is beaten down and abused, yet triumphs against all odds. Perhaps there is some archetypal significance here. I believe there is also some significance to the juxtaposition between Harry, a talented wizard, and the Dursleys, the personified antithesis of magic.

Muggle-born wizards (and select “pure-bloods’” biases against them) are a recurring topic throughout the series. This bias appears to be the magical equivalent of “Muggle” racism,³ and themes of acceptance and equality are apparent throughout the series. Let’s examine an interaction which occurs before Harry even gets to Hogwarts, when he meets his rival Draco Malfoy for the first time at a shop in Diagon Alley. After a long conversation in which Harry is reminded of how little he knows about the wizarding world, Malfoy says this about allowing Muggle-borns into Hogwarts:

“I really don’t think they should let the other sort in, do you? They’re just not the same, they’ve never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families.”

Harry is visibly upset by this in his conversation with Hagrid upon leaving the store. Harry tells Hagrid about his interaction with Malfoy, and Hagrid reassures Harry that he isn’t from a Muggle family, that his parents were both remarkable wizards. Then he says,

“Anyway, what does he know about it, some o’ the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in ‘em in a long line o’ Muggles — look at yer mum! Look what she had fer a sister!”

Such a strange distinction, this “blood status” stuff. Harry comes from a family of wizards, but according to Malfoy’s reasoning, he is as unworthy to attend Hogwarts as a Muggle-born wizard—after all, he was not brought up among wizards, and had not heard of Hogwarts until he got his letter. Sure, Harry is only a “half-blood,” not a member of the “old wizarding families” Malfoy was referring to. This fact didn’t seem to bother Malfoy when he offered his friendship to Harry on the train to Hogwarts.

Here, Malfoy acknowledges Harry’s unfamiliarity with the wizarding world (implied by his assumption that Harry needed assistance in sorting out the right and wrong sorts of families to associate with), and still extended an offer of friendship. Perhaps he makes an exception to his “brought up by old wizarding families” rule when faced with a wizard of immense fame and prestige. In the same conversation he also condemns the Weasley family, a family of pure-blood wizards, because of their poverty. Clearly, the parameters for who the Malfoys think should and shouldn’t be taught magic are not as clear-cut as they seem. Muggle blood seems much less important to Malfoy than wealth and status, no matter what he may claim. I have no doubt that this irony was crafted purposefully.

Of course, this magical bigotry is not exclusive to wizards. The Dursleys are just as prejudiced against magic-wielding folk as the Malfoys are against Muggles. In Aunt Petunia’s case this can be written off as mere jealousy, as her sister, the only witch in the family received most of their parents’ attention growing up. Uncle Vernon, on the other hand, is a more puzzling case. It seems as though he just simply despises anything out of the ordinary. Either way, their hatred of wizards is scathing, and their resultant mistreatment of Harry is cruel, showing that evil exists on either side of bigotry.

On the subject of evil, this book is at its essence a good versus evil story. Let’s examine the most basic structure of the plot: the hero is introduced, along with a villain. The hero has combated the villain before and won, but the villain is still out there. At first, the hero is unaware of his powers, but he soon learns that there is something different about him. He makes friends, and learns of the responsibility that comes with his power. His foe has returned, must be stopped, and despite this, most of the people around him remain ignorant. After seeking the aid of authorities who dismiss his requests for help, he learns that he must break a few rules if his nemesis is to be defeated. Aided by his friends, he takes a risk, a risk which pays off. Evil is defeated—for now. It is a common narrative structure, and one that underlies the entire series. As we progress throughout the books, the stakes get higher, but they do not change very much. It is at its core battle of good versus evil, fought with friends, often against authority, in which good always prevails.

Let’s take a closer look at our antagonist: Lord Voldemort, the most powerful and most evil wizard in the world, one who leaves death in his wake, whose targets never escape his wrath alive. He had never performed an unsuccessful killing curse until he tried to kill Harry when he was only a baby. Facing the protection of Harry’s parents’ love, his spell backfired, forcing him into a ten-year period of dormancy. Despite this fall from power, he remains so feared that most people do not dare speak his name, instead calling him “You-Know-Who,” or “He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.” Even his followers do not dare speak his name, referring to him instead as “The Dark Lord.” This is an interesting title, “Lord.” It is a title of power, of respect. It also conjures godlike images—after all, Jesus is referred to as “Lord” in Christianity. But Christianity’s Lord is a figure of good. Why would this title be assigned to a figure so evil?

It is obvious why his lackeys would call him this. They idolize him, have chosen to serve him. Why, though, would people who loathe him still choose to refer to him as their “Lord?” I suppose it is because fear gives one power over others. By terrorizing the world, he became its lord, reigning over it more absolutely than any figure of good could possibly manage. Let’s examine a statement from the wand seller, Mr. Ollivander:

“He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things—terrible, yes, but great.”

Isn’t it strange, this distinction between goodness and greatness? Despite his evil nature, Voldemort commanded a certain respect for his capabilities. Figures of evil often attain a godlike status in peoples’ minds. Powerless before them, people regard them with superstition. This is perhaps why nobody dares speak Voldemort’s name. Their superstition becomes the only protection that they feel they have against the evil force, and they cling to it, in fear of otherwise incurring its wrath.

It is at its core battle of good versus evil, fought with friends, often against authority, in which good always prevails.

There are only two wizards who do not fear Voldemort’s name: Harry and Dumbledore. We may not expect Dumbledore to fear saying Voldemort’s name. After all, he is a legendary, powerful wizard, the only wizard that Voldemort fears. He may fear Voldemort—not to fear him would be foolish—but he is not powerless before him. But what about Harry? Voldemort killed his parents. He’s only a child, one with a target on his back, no less. He certainly does not appear to be a match for “Lord” Voldemort. Could it be because he was not brought up in the wizarding world, and was not raised to fear Voldemort’s name? Neither was Hermione, a Muggle-born, yet we never hear her speak Voldemort’s name. Maybe it was because Harry had defeated Voldemort as a baby, had attained a certain power over him from that point on. Or maybe, as the archetypal hero, it was simply his instinct to stand up to his fears, rather than cower superstitiously before them. For whatever reason, Harry did not fear the name Voldemort. However, he soon found that speaking the name in other peoples’ presence made people uncomfortable, and he began correcting himself and adopting the euphemism simply because it was the socially acceptable thing to do. At the end of the book, Dumbledore discourages him from this:

“Sir?” Said Harry. “I’ve been thinking…Sir—even if the Stone’s gone, Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who—“

“Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself.”

These are wise words. Voldemort was dangerous because of his great power, yes, but it was peoples’ reaction to him that made him the godlike figure that he became. Would his reign have been so terrible if everyone regarded him as merely a man? Could they regard him as such, given the devastation that he wrought?

Viewing the story from Harry’s eyes, ten years after Voldemort’s defeat, we as readers have not yet experienced firsthand the full extent of Voldemort’s power. We learn that he is evil and immensely powerful, but his powers remain the stuff of legends—we know it through the fear that he conjures, and the devastation he has caused to Harry’s family. Even at the end of the book, when Harry faces Voldemort head-on, he faces a weakened, parasitic version of what he used to be. The main threat Voldemort poses at this point in the story isn’t what he is, but what he could become. It’s interesting, how much we can fear the unknown, how we can fear someone’s potential more than their reality.

Of course, this dark potential can exist in anyone, not just Lord Voldemort. Let’s reexamine the conversation between Harry and Mr. Ollivander on the day that Harry purchased his wand. “The wand chooses the wizard,” and the wand which chose Harry Potter was the “brother” of Voldemort’s own wand, the wand which killed his parents.

“I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather—just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother—why, its brother gave you that scar.”

Harry swallowed.

“Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember…. I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter…. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things—terrible, yes, but great.”

Nemeses for Harry’s entire life, how could Harry’s and Voldemort’s wands share a core? Perhaps this is a testament to the thin line that separates good from evil. Perhaps it also suggests something prophetic—something which will be explored later on in the series. One thing that is for sure, however, is that there is a great significance to these two wands. Harry’s wand: phoenix feather, holly, 11 inches. Voldemort’s wand: phoenix feather, yew, 13.5 inches.

Rowling seems to choose her numbers carefully. Their currency is based on prime numbers: there are 17 Knuts in a Sickle, and 29 Sickles in a Galleon. The number seven—a number of Biblical significance, which symbolizes completeness—pops up a lot in the book. There are seven players on a Quidditch team, seven potions in one of the traps protecting the Sorcerer’s Stone, seven books in the series. Slytherin was anticipating the celebration of their seventh consecutive House Cup victory. The vault at Gringotts which contained the Sorcerer’s Stone was the number 713—combining the number seven and the number thirteen. Thirteen is often seen as an unlucky number. A quick Google search shows that it has a bit more depth than this. Thirteen is said to symbolize death and rejuvenation, fitting for the number of the vault that contains a stone that grants immortality.

It logically follows, then, that the lengths of these wands hold some significance as well. Eleven is a number associated with spirituality and creativity. It is typically associated with goodness. On the contrary, we have already spoken of the number thirteen’s reputation. Interestingly, though, Voldemort’s wand is thirteen and a half inches—distinguishing it somewhat from thirteen’s symbolism. Perhaps this off-kilter measurement is indicative of his divergent madness? Regardless, it is clear that eleven conjures up images of good, while thirteen-and-a-half conjures up images of evil. Nothing is entirely good or bad, however. The sum of the numbers one through eleven add up to sixty-six, eerily close to 666, the “Number of the Beast.” Thirteen, although associated with death, is also associated with rebirth. The core of their wands, phoenix feather, also suggests this dualism, since the phoenix, like the number thirteen, is a symbol of death and resurrection.

The woods that their wands are made of follow this pattern, as well. Harry’s wand is made out of holly. In Druid symbolism, Holly is a symbol of eternal life. In Christianity, it is associated with Christmas, the joyous celebration of the birth of Christ. But, Holly has thorns, and its berries are poisonous. On the contrary, Voldemort’s wand is made out of yew. All parts of the yew plant are poisonous, including its bark. Its most immediate association is with death. However, the Druids worshipped yew trees for their longevity,⁴ and the tree is a Celtic symbol of death and resurrection (which appears to be a common theme). Both of these woods contain a light and dark side, even if Harry’s is more predominantly light and Voldemort’s is more predominantly dark. Perhaps Rowling is suggesting that good and evil are merely two sides of the same coin. After all, the two wands are brothers.

Perhaps Rowling is suggesting that good and evil are merely two sides of the same coin.

We see based on the “greatness” of Harry’s wand that he is full of potential.⁵ Given the dual nature of its components, and the dual nature of reality in general, it follows that the choice between good and evil ultimately rests upon Harry. We even see Harry tempted by the dark side, a bit. Let’s examine the Mirror of Erised, a mirror which shows those who look into it their deepest, most urgent desires. Harry looks into this mirror and sees his family—what could have been, had his parents not been killed. After beholding it once, Harry yearns to return to the mirror with the urgency of a junkie. Dumbledore permits this for a time, letting him explore his dark urges for a time. Then he warns him:

“‘[T]his mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible.

‘The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live…”

What is strange about this conversation is that Dumbledore seems to know already that Harry might go through the trapdoor (the Mirror’s new hiding place) to protect the Sorcerer’s Stone. Another hint that this may be the case is given at the end of the book, when Dumbledore reveals his plan for the mirror. Harry asks how he got the stone out of the mirror, and this is Dumbledore’s reply:

“Ah, now, I’m glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that’s saying something. You see, only one who wanted to find the stone—find it, but not use it—would be able to get it, otherwise they’d just see themselves making gold or drinking Elixir of Life. My brain surprises even me sometimes…”

It is implied that Dumbledore bewitched the mirror in some way, to allow it to reveal the stone to the person who sees the stone within it. It is also implied that this is the only way to obtain the stone. This seems simple, on its face, until you remember that the mirror shows someone their deepest desire. In what circumstances would someone who does not intend to use the stone wish to have it more than anything else in the world? This would only occur in a circumstance of great danger, a circumstance exactly like the one that Harry faced.

This would not be the only time that Dumbledore watched as Harry fulfilled his destiny in the face of great danger. In the Order of the Phoenix a prophecy is revealed which indicates that Harry must be the one to kill Voldemort. Throughout the series, Dumbledore guides Harry, but ultimately allows him to fulfill his destiny for himself. This prophecy is already foreshadowed here. At the end of the story, after facing Voldemort once again and defeating him, Harry asks Dumbledore a question: why had Voldemort tried to kill him the first time, when he was only a baby? To this, Dumbledore replied:

“Alas, the first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now. You will know, one day…put it from your mind for now, Harry. When you are older… I know you hate to hear this… when you are ready, you will know.”

Put yourself in Dumbledore’s shoes for a moment. This is a young boy who has been through so much, a boy you have cared about since he was a baby. You know that he is destined to face incredible darkness in his future, threats that he may not be able to survive. Would you not wish to protect him? Yet Dumbledore knows that he cannot protect him. To do so would be a detriment to his fate and the fate of the entire world. The best he can do is guide him, give him the knowledge that he needs to proceed, and hope for the best. Considering this predicament gives depth to a lot of Dumbledore’s actions throughout the entire series.

Let’s follow this conversation further. Harry asks Dumbledore another question: why couldn’t Quirrell touch him? When Harry faced Quirrell, Voldemort’s host, below the trapdoor, Harry’s touch blistered Quirrell’s skin, caused him agonizing pain. Why? This was Dumbledore’s response:

“Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn’t realize that love as powerful as your mother’s for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign… to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed, and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good.”

Here we have the essence of the story boiled down to its most basic form: good’s ultimate triumph over evil. Power, hatred, and greed can kill and destroy, but they are not absolute. They can be conquered by love. The story’s “deus ex machina” ending—a young boy on the brink of death scathing an evil wizard’s skin simply because his parents loved him—may seem cliche, twee, even. But what was Voldemort at this point in the story? A shell of a being, sustained by unicorn blood and the fractured remnants of his split soul. How could it be possible for a force of evil reduced to something so weak to be able to stand up to something so good?

It is important to note here that Voldemort never stands alone. Here, at this point in the story, this statement can be taken literally. After having met his match, faced a force of love more powerful than his force of evil, he is left a parasitic being that must latch himself onto a host’s body in order to do anything. However, this statement remains equally true even as he gains power. What match is an isolated madman, even if that madman is a powerful, untamed sorcerer, for an entire population of goodness? He would be defeated immediately. His followers are what protects him. Alone, he is vulnerable. With a whole army behind him, he becomes formidable. Being able to manipulate such an army is an incredible source of power, and it is a completely separate skill from magical capability. We can see his manipulative skill here already—he convinced a Hogwarts professor to tether the most notoriously evil wizard in the entire world to the back of his head, simply by promising him power and glory. It takes a great deal of ill-intentioned charisma to get someone to agree to such a thing.

This is what makes “fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself” such a terrifying concept. In this book, Voldemort commences his return to power with a head-start. He already has control over virtually the entire population; whether they idolize him or loathe him, everyone in the wizarding world fears him. The hardest battle had already been won over a decade ago. He has already penetrated peoples’ minds, instilled fear in their hearts. All that he needs now is a body.

This brings me to a question which I cannot answer: what real-life evil does Voldemort symbolize? Could he be analogous to a large, powerful crime boss, or an authoritarian leader who amasses a cultlike following through deception and emotional pandering? Perhaps he represents the dark side of humanity itself, which forever oscillates between periods of good and evil. He can perhaps be a stand-in for all of these things. I don’t think it really matters what real-life force Voldemort reminds you of. What matters here is the narrative, which is representative of something universal. All forces of evil have great potential for destruction. They can instill fear in peoples’ hearts, corrupt minds, destroy lives. They are also all conquerable, through pure love.

The hero can also represent anything we want him to, whether that is an important cultural figurehead or an everyday person actively trying to make a positive impact in their own lives. Battles between good and evil happen on all different scales—internationally, intranationally, within a social organization, within a group of friends. A battle between good and evil can even exist entirely in someone’s mind. This is why we relate so easily to heroes, what makes their narratives so compelling. The purpose of a story is not to replicate real life, but to capture its patterns. Through story, the laws of the universe are revealed to us.

The purpose of a story is not to replicate real life, but to capture its patterns. Through story, the laws of the universe are revealed to us.

There are a few other things in this book that deserve mentioning. For one, I’ve somehow managed to write this entire thing without once mentioning Severus Snape. By the conclusion of the first book, we haven’t yet learned much about this character. We’ve witnessed his brooding, learned that he seems to have a grudge against Harry. We see him become the subject of Harry’s misplaced suspicions. We learn that Snape’s distaste for Harry comes from a feud between him and James Potter—and his inability to deal with the fact that, despite their hatred for one another, James saved his life. He is certainly a complex character, and we will see him grow in complexity in books to come.

I also haven’t spoken much about Ron or Hermione. They teach Harry about friendship, and are instrumental to his success. At the climax of the story, all three of them were necessary to tackle the series of obstacles that separated Harry from the Sorcerer’s Stone. Harry would have gotten nowhere without Ron’s command of chess, or Hermione’s logic when faced with Snape’s potion riddle. These characters each deserve an in-depth analysis of their own, which they will receive one day.

For an essay ultimately concerned with the forces of the universe and their representation in this familiar story, it feels fitting to end with centaurs. They appear very briefly in this book, when Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Malfoy accompany Hagrid into the Forbidden Forest for detention, looking for an injured unicorn. These centaurs appear to be extraordinarily wise creatures. They possess a remarkable insight regarding the folly of man, but they detach themselves from it, choosing instead to look upwards towards the sky. When Hagrid first encounters Ronan the centaur in the forest (and it becomes clear that they have been previously acquainted), Ronan engages in idle conversation, but he appears distracted, with his real attention directed skyward. However, he appears to possess great wisdom. When Hagrid tells him about the hurt unicorn, this is Ronan’s response:

“Always the innocent are the first victims… So it has been for ages past, so it is now.”

A second centaur, Bane, enters the scene. Hagrid asks him about the unicorns, also. Bane seems detached. His only comment, an echo of something Ronan said previously.

“Mars is bright tonight.”

Perhaps there is some significance to Mars’ inclusion in this scene. It often symbolizes war, after all, and in astrology, it represents our human drive and energy.

Later on in the chapter, Harry is threatened by Voldemort, the slayer of the unicorns, and a third centaur, Firenze, comes to save him. The other centaurs argue about this. They presumably know about Voldemort’s imminent return to power, and Harry’s significance in defeating him. Bane says:

“Remember, Firenze, we are sworn not to set ourselves against the heavens. Have we not read what is to come in the movements of the planets?”

Firenze disagrees about this need for objectivity. He feels that Harry is too important. He wants to fight against evil, do what is right, instead of being concerned simply with what is.

What a mysterious chapter. Beings who can read the future in the stars. A rogue centaur breaking his vow of impartiality to save our hero, perhaps another cosmically determined event. Harry does seem to rely quite a bit on luck.

If periods of evil foretold in the stars, does this indicate that they are a necessary and natural part of life? This would suggest that the resurgence of good is necessary, also. Perhaps this is why Firenze felt compelled to save Harry—to balance the scales. What else do these creatures know?

I’ll definitely be paying close attention to centaurs as the series progresses.

1. Just like using an em dash is a preferred lazy way of punctuating when you are unsure whether a colon or semicolon is the more appropriate punctuation mark for a sentence.

2. The book’s title was originally Philosopher’s Stone, but it was changed to Sorcerer’s Stone in America, because publishers were concerned that American children would not be interested in a book with the word “philosopher” in its title. I think that “Philosopher’s Stone” is a much better name, because the Philosopher’s Stone is an actual mythical substance in alchemy, but will admit that “Sorcerer’s Stone” has a nicer ring to it.

3. The true depth of this problem is explored in the Chamber of Secrets, and becomes increasingly apparent in later books, when the Ministry sanctions an ethnic cleansing that bears a striking resemblance to Naziism. But we’ll get there.

4. This seems fitting, given Voldemort’s near-immortality.

5. His peers soon begin to see this, as well—in the Chamber of Secrets, when the mysterious “heir of Slytherin” is afoot, many people become suspicious of him.