Hog’s Head PubCast #34: Snape, a Hero?

First of all, thanks for the link to the Classic Tales. I love listening to stories anyway, and there are some great ones there. I listened to several the other night (having followed the link from here), and stayed up way too late. I’m looking forward to the Poe selections, as they are some of my favorites, but, um, not late at night. (I remember finding the Tell Tale Heart scary when I read it, and that was when I was sitting in class.

Now for Snape–please forgive the extreme length, but I’m one of those who find him to be the most enigmatic of all the characters. (A shape shifter might be the most appropriate explanation for who Snape is–thanks for that definition.)

No, I don’t want to be like him, and I certainly hope I never even meet anyone like him, nor would I have wanted him as a teacher. I am as appalled as Rowling when young girls or women talk of wanting to marry Snape–makes me shudder to think of it. He is not a nice man, no matter how you view him, and he wasn’t about to change for anyone, especially since we learn that he wouldn’t change, even for Lily. Snape doesn’t even seem to have friends among his colleagues. Other than his unique friendship with Dumbledore, and as we found out in Deathly Hallows, his childhood friendship with Lily, Snape led a very solilary life–and probably would have done even if he hadn’t turned spy.

I expected to learn more about Snape’s life with his parents, but I was absolutely OK with not getting that in this story. Rowling had given us the hints that Snape was from an abusive home, that he was bullied by his peers and that he was a loner. The piece that was missing was that he did have one friend, and apparently it was a real friendship, marred as friendships sometimes are, by the choices that he made.

A side note here–Travis, I liked what you quoted from MacDonald. I do think that we, as individual readers, sometimes get something completely different out of a story because of our own experiences. And perhaps that’s the reason I feel some empathy for Snape. I had a friend who was, to put it plainly, just odd. Not abused in any way, rather she probably had too many advantages, most of which she did not appreciate. But she was always like a square peg trying to fit into a smaller round hole. We were very different, but for some reason we were best friends for three or four years, and then she made a choice that ended the friendship. The situation was different for Snape, of course, as he loved Lily; whether or not Lily felt the same was never quite clear, but implied. But she at least seemed to love him as a friend. When she told him she couldn’t abide his choice of friends, I knew how that felt (even though for Snape it was love, and for me it was a friendship) because I had felt that same disappointment of feeling betrayed by my friend’s choice. (She stole my boyfriend, actually–not a good thing for a best friend to do. Turning Death Eater might have been easier for me to accept– er, well, maybe not.)

My point is that I think we do find ourselves identifying more with some characters than with others. In the beginning of the books, I identified very much with Harry; (again, there was no abuse in my life, only love and a caring family) but I was adopted and didn’t know anything about my birth parents. That’s where that character identification stopped for me, except that my adoptive dad died when I was ten–so I did somewhat understand how Harry felt about not having parents.

However, the time that Harry spent in front of the Mirror of Erised brought tears to my eyes, as I thought of what I would see. It would be my mother, who had died in 1996, three years before I started reading Harry Potter. And then hearing later that it was Jo’s favorite chapter, for much the same reason as mine, resonates incredibly with my own feelings and understanding of what it feels like to be without parents.

There are other things in all the books that are particularly poignant to me and that I seem to understand differently than some readers who are younger who have not experienced the death of parents or grand parents. Especially the thestrals–that was another moment when I felt so close to Luna and Neville and Harry, having seen someone die when I was a child.

I know that many readers had problems with the manner in which Snape died, even those who expected that he would. I think that’s where some of the dissatisfaction arises. There was no glory, no heroic sort of scene, and after Harry and Snape looked into each others’ eyes–a scene which I found so very powerful, Harry and Ron and Hermione rushed off, leaving this fallen hero alone, in a place that held the unpleasant memories of his childhood enemies.

While I get their point, I think they have missed the bigger point with Snape’s death, as well as with the deaths of Sirius in OP, and of Remus and Tonks, and even Fred. In the middle of a war, particularly a civil war being fought on the grounds of their school (the stand-in for their homes), not every death is going to have the honor and significance of Dumbledore’s or Dobby’s deaths. War is ugly; it is not fair; it is not a respector of the worth of a person’s life. And war does not stop and wait while we properly mourn for our beloved and fallen friends and families.

Snape had spent the rest of his life, after Lily was killed, full of remorse, and trying to atone for his unintentional betrayal of the only person he ever loved, or who ever loved him. Sirius had found his friends and his god son and should have had some happiness after 12 years of misery and two years in hiding. Remus and Tonks had finally found each other, and had a son to raise (though, looking at the alchemy of the story, I knew they were toast as soon as they had Teddy). And Fred. Fred, at the moment of reconcilliation with his brother Percy, having a laugh, was killed as well.

Senseless deaths? Some think so, from what I’ve read on a few forums. All of those characters deserved to live and all deserved to have some sort of glorious death–isn’t that what happens in the movies? The good guys all come out on the other side, perhaps injured or scarred, but OK, and the bad guys either die or get what’s coming to them. Neat and tidy, and totally unrealisitc.

The best thing about Rowling’s books is that she’s not writing unbelievable stories with glorious deaths, or allowing characters to live because we like them; it wouldn’t be realistic in the middle of a war. And for her readers to feel what that means, if they haven’t expereinced the loss of a family member or friend to the tragedy of war, Rowling had to kill off some of the characters we loved, or at the very least, that we respected or for whom we felt empathy.

Of course, I wasn’t happy that Snape died–I wasn’t happy that any of my favorite characters died either. Those deaths, however, make the point of the senselessness of deaths during war time, the randomness, and the unfairness. The Epilogue shows us the model (young readers especially), that survivors must go on with their lives; they cannot live in a state of mourning forever. But we also must remember those who died and honor them in significant ways, meaningful ways that remind the next and future generations that honorable people died to preserve their freedoms. Harry naming his son after Albus and Severus, and his comments about Severus being the bravest man he ever knew, was better than any elaborate funeral or monument. By that one act and that one comment, Rowling filled in the missing pieces of Snape’s death. Harry venerated him during his final battle with Voldemort, in front of all assembled in the Great Hall, and then he let his son (and all of us) know that he had forgiven Snape and understood just how brave he had been.

I think one of the other things that I took away from Deathly Hallows, was that not every hero has to be acting for the noble reasons we expect from heroes. Harry, who was the hero of the story, did act selflessly to save others, throughout the books. Ron and Hermione had their moments, though they were sometimes heroic because of their loyalty to their friend, rather than acting for the greater good.

Neville turned out to be very much like Harry in his actions, and I loved it. It showed that he very well could have been the “Chosen One”.

Fred and George were heroic in their own way; Percy came through in the end. Ginny and Luna were heroes as well. Many of the adults were heroes, but some fought for noble reasons and others fought to save their families or their way of life.

Dumbledore, who had always seemed to have the most pure motives of all, turned out to not be our perfect hero, and often told Harry so. Outwardly, he seemed to be doing everything for the good of all, while in reality, it was much more personal, and so very private, for Dumbledore. He fought, not out of the purity of his heart, but because of the choices he’d made because of the darkness of his heart.

That leads us full circle back to Severus Snape. Snape did many heroic things in fighting against the Death Eaters and Voldemort. In some ways, his sacrifices and deeds far surpassed those of any of the other heroes. He fought his battle without ever receiving the recognition that was his due, except from Dumbledore, and posthumously from Harry.

I wish I could remember who said that heroes are ordinary men who do extraordinary things. It’s not the obviously brave and strong who are the real heroes, but those who aren’t, those who are flawed human beings, who do something in their life that earns them the distinction of being called a hero. And that’s how I see Severus Snape–a loner, a man in need of redemption (as we all are), but a man who in the end, made the right choices to fight against evil. Did he do it for the noble reasons that we saw with Harry or with Neville? No. Severus Snape felt the pain of his own guilt, felt true remorse, and he sought forgiveness from the one person he had loved–Lily. He literally gave his life because he loved Lily, and in doing so he found his redemption. The more I think of it, his death was very much like that of Sydney Carton in “A Tale of Two Cities”. Carton, a character who reminded me of Snape even before I read “Half-Blood Prince”, acted to save someone he didn’t care only because he loved Lucy. And no one knew what he had done at the time of his death. All his imaginings were just that. He could only envision that his name and heroism would be known later. As readers we were left hoping and believing that Carton got the honor and recognition he deserved for his sacrificial death; in “Deathly Hallows” we learned that Snape was honored as a hero, in the best possible way.

Pat

Just finished listening to the podcast. Interesting stuff.

Travis, you were disconcerted by the Snape-obsession you saw at Prophecy 2007. I have a couple of questions: what was the average age of the Snape-o-philes, and were they mostly women or men?

My first thought is that adults reading the series might be more likely to identify with another adult than a child/adolescent. This is a good thing, if you think it through. My second thought is, a lot of people find the dark side sexier than the light side. You might not want someone who is entirely on the dark side – although there are people who are into that, too – but you might find someone who is totally good, such as Harry, to be not very intrguing, too predictable, and dare I say, a little boring? Snape, who is sardonic and sarcastic and angry and bitter and hostile, but who ultimately serves the good side, is a good compromise.

It sounds like I’m talking about romantic love here, but I’m actually talking about fantasy relationships. I’m also talking about what kind of person you want to be in your fantasies. Comparing Snape to Harry, Snape knows more, can do more, can hang out with both sides, is inscrutable, and powerful. In fact, as a wizard, Snape is more skilled and powerful than Harry. And no one messes with Snape, not even Voldemort. That is a potent combination.

Now I’m not sure that JKR deliberately wrote him like this. More and more I think that while Harry might be her alter ego, Snape is her animus. This goes back to the question I asked earlier: why does she dislike her most compelling character so much, or at least, have such conflicting feelings towards him?

Barbara MacManus writes of this Jungian archetype:

“Animus is the personification of all masculine psychological tendencies within a woman, the archetypal masculine symbolism within a woman’s unconscious.”

and also:

“Animus Projection: The unindividuated woman identifies with those personal qualities that are symbolically feminine; she develops these potentialities and to some extent integrates their unconcious influences into her conscious personality. However, she does not recognize qualities that are symbolically masculine as part of her own personality but rather projects them onto men. She will project her animus—those particular characteristics and potentialities that are significant components of her personal unconscious and therefore carry a special emotional charge—onto a few men for whom she will then feel a strong and compelling emotion (usually positive but occasionally negative). Infatuation (an instant, powerful attraction for a man about whom she knows little) is one of the signs of animus projection, as is a compulsive possessiveness.”

Now I’m not calling JKR psychologically undifferentiated. She seems totalls differentiated to me. But I think that her animosity towards Snape suggests that she has put a lot of herself into him, which makes him a very compelling character. And for some unknown reason, has very mixed feelings towards him.

Black Angus, that’s my thinking on why some girls/women are so attracted to Snape–they are convinced that they will be the ones to save him from himself–AND it’s an Alan Rickman thing.

I don’t know about the attendees for Prophecy, but my daughter and her husband and I went to Lumos last year. Quite an experience to be around so many fans–while it was great to meet some of the people I’d been chatting with for several years, some of the fans, particularly the Snape, Lucius, and Death Eater fans were a bit on the scary side; we tended to avoid them after the first day. My very unofficial observation is that most avid Snape fans (not the ones who just find him a fascinating character because he’s so complex) were women, between the ages of 20 and 45. For some it was clearly the Rickman factor, while for others, they’ve been Snape devotees since the first book. Like Travis, I find that very disturbing as I saw nothing redeeming about Snape in the first book, or even the first two books actually.

reyhan, thank you–I’m glad that you understand my point of view about Snape. Like you, I’m somewhat baffled by Rowling’s comments about Snape. It seems to me that she intended to create a character that would be so nasty as to be unlovable to all the readers, but who would ultimately be redeemed, and it was all tied in with love–and now that I think of it, Lily’s love for Harry saved him when she died sacrificially, but her love for Severus ended up being his redemption/salvation as well, though she didn’t die for him. Not sure how that one works out, but hopefully someone can put it together.

Anyway, I really am beginning to think that Snape was a character who took on a life of his own, and she had no intention of having him do so. But I don’t think that there is anything she could have done to prevent it. I just don’t think that she liked who Snape was, and so to see so many readers obsessed with him, was beyond her reasons for having him in the story. In several interviews she tried to head readers away from Snape, but I think at that point it had more to do with protecting the redemptive aspect of his story line.

I’ve heard a few people say that learning that Snape loved Lily was what they expected so what should have been a big twist wasn’t. And I suppose in some ways I could see it that way. But for me, I was just glad that one of the things I thought would happen did, and I was pleased that I figured it out. That was all part of the mystery of just who the character of Snape was.

It seems to me that I remember reading a long time ago that Margaret Mitchell didn’t like the character of Scarlet, but readers did, and she found it disturbing, much as Rowling has been disturbed by Snape’s popularity. Neither character is “nice”, but that really is what makes them more interesting to read.

Harry, our hero, was nice (most of the time), and most people didn’t doubt that he would succeed in vanquishing Voldemort–otherwise the title of the books would have included someone else’s name. So that automatically made him more predictable and less interesting than the one character about whom we knew very little. As it turns out, we didn’t know nearly as much about Dumbledore as we thought, either, but that wasn’t brought out much till the end of the sixth book.

I really think that Snape just got away from Rowling and in having him fill a role she wanted for the story line, he became much more complex than she intended; but it is the complex characters that are the most interestng to read, the ones that we can’t figure out, not the ones that are easy and straight forward.

Pat

Matthew and Mary Jo, I don’t see Snape as a gloryhound, but I don’t think he is motivated by the Truth, either. Snape villifies Harry and Lupin to Dumbledore, but I think it’s pretty clear that Snape’s motivation is his prejudice born of his own torment. Snape’s onto Quirrell in PS, but his zeal on this point doesn’t compare to the fervor and glee with which he pursues everyone into the Shrieking Shack. It’s pretty clear that Snape will revel in turning over Sirius to the authorities, and if he can roll up Lupin and get Harry expelled in the process, then Christmas will come early for him.

Snape’s motivations are muddied, and he doesn’t have any interest in the pursuit of Good for the sake of itself. Penny and Greg in their HPProgs podcast have discussed Snape a little bit, and they’ve rationalized some of Snape’s nastiness with his need to be covert.

But, I’m disturbed by Snape’s lack of response in DH. Charity Burbage is murdered, and Snape doesn’t blink. I don’t think this is purely out of necessity for maintaining cover (and even if it were, I’d still have a hard time justifying it). I think Snape here simply isn’t concerned for his colleague.

He’s almost a person operating purely on rationalization, except when it comes to Harry and those most closely associated with him.

Yes, reyhan, I thought the same thing when I read that passage. I know it seems too simple to say that Snape did nothing and seemed to not react at all when Charity Burbage was murdered before his eyes, by saying it was because he needed to protect his status as a spy and Voldemort’s most loyal follower.

But, Dave, imagine what would have happened if Snape had intervened to prevent her death or if he had winced or recoiled from watching it. He did exactly what he had to do at that moment; all those at the table were observers, and in some way culpable for the death they witnessed because they did nothing to stop it. However, they all seemed, to me, to be more like prisoners, without the choice or opportunity to changed anything. They were as trapped in the Malfoy Manor as Harry and company were later when they were imprisoned in the cellar. It’s one more example of the horror of following a tyrant, who cares only for himself, and has no regard for human life.

But mostly what struck me in the passage reyhan quoted was how shocked and horrified Snape was–he, after all, admits that he never cared for Harry, only for Lily. Yet when he finds out what Dumbledore’s purpose has been all these years, that kind of detachment is too much for Snape. I think that shows that he wasn’t quite as cold and nasty as he’d been portrayed.

As for the spy part, I don’t think I could ever be a spy. I’m not a good liar, in the first place, and I would not be able to play my part, watching or taking part in something that harmed someone else, just for the sake of defeating whatever evil in the end.

I was reminded of the movie, “Donnie Brasco”, and the moment where he finds himself taking part in some horrific events–the disposition of a body for one, but the worst was the beating of a man who crossed his boss. Had he backed away, he would not have been able to remain in his spy (undercover) position (likely would have been killed on the spot), which ultimately led to the arrest and conviction of some horrible people. Being a spy is a nasty business, and an extremely lonely one, it would seem. Perhaps it’s wrong for anyone to be a spy–I certainly couldn’t. Back to the movie, though–if you watch the extras, one part includes interviews with the real person who was “Donnie Brasco”, and in doing that undercover job, he nearly lost his family, his marriage, and his life. It was six years out of his life and they now live somewhere unnamed with new identities. So he essentially did lose his life when he did his job as a spy.

Snape did that job for 16-17 years, seeming to play both sides of the fence, which would be even harder. And the only person with whom he could discuss any of it was Dumbledore–then he learns that Dumbledore essentially lied to him as well. It’s not that any of that makes Snape a nicer person or that we should overlook his abysmal treatment of students, but that may have been, by his own convoluted reasoing, one way to ensure that his status as a loyal follower of Voldemort remained intact.

Pat

I think the Alan Rickman factor in Snape-ophilia (sp? is HUGE. Even if those attracted to Rickman then go back to the books afterwords and “find” reasons to like him, I think it’s a very rare Snape fan who isn’t at least in part reacting to Rickman’s interpretation of the part. But maybe that’s b/c I find nothing particularly to like about Snape in the books so have to find some explanation for his popularity….

Mary Jo, that’s a horrific thing to even think about for parents, or for your family, to experience. It does change one’s feelings a great deal when it is personal rather than just something in a book, whether it is fiction or fact. (I have a very different perspective on the events of the Clutter family murders depicted in Capote’s “In Cold Blood”, because that happened 8 miles from my home town when I was 9 years old. It, to this day, colors my thoughts on capital punishment.)

reyhan, I took something different away from the MacDonald essay. Which I suppose, in a way, proves his point. I liked that he brought in our perceptions of art and music, because they are a bit more concrete than a story, which ends up with one person reading and imagining a story that someone else imagined and wrote down. Perhaps the end results would be more similar if we could all hear the author read the work aloud–just reading words can lead us in a totally different direction, as we all know from posting things on forums, and having someone completely miss our point, especially if it involves satire, which seems to need those raised eyebrows and cryptic tones only our voices can convey.

But I was thinking about what you said, and I glanced at a painting on my living room wall. It was the last oil painting my mother did–when I was a baby. She put away her oils, fearing that ten eager little fingers would find them and paint things in the house other than a canvass.

I think my mom’s reason for painting it was because she liked a picture she found and wanted to experiment with the colors, the shading, the perspective. I don’t think she attached any particular meaning to the painting of the lady in the green dress, standing in an attic, admiring herself in an old full length mirror, with the wooden trunk behind her, with some material draped over the side.

As a child, I looked at that painting every day–it hung in our living room, being one of the few things my mom had painted and kept for herself. (Most she had given away, and all of her drawings were given to the people she’d drawn.)

I created a story to go with the painting. The woman had discovered the old trunk in the attic, and in looking through the things stored in it, she tried on the green dress, perhaps knowing that it had once belonged to her mother or her grandmother. As she looks in the mirror, she thinks of the woman to whom the dress once belonged and reminisces over the life of this relative, and of the significance of this particular dress, one that had been special enough that it had been packed into a trunk. But my imagination went farther than just what is in the painting. I could see the rest of the attic, filled with old furniture and other treasures, (and a journal or two, hidden somewhere, waiting to be found), not to mention that I could picture the rest of the 19th century home.

So, for me, it isn’t a stretch to see what MacDonald means when he says that someone reading will find something there that the author did not intend nor understand. My mother certainly didn’t intend me to see all that when she painted that picture; I am certain of that, because I remember asking her one day who the woman in the painting was. I think the question surprised her, and the only answer I got was “Oh, no one. Just a lady I wanted to paint.”

Does that help at all? Or is it too far from the topic for any but my convoluted imaginings? Hmmm, probably so.

Pat

That’s a pretty good stab, actually. I do see your point. I find myself, now, standing somewhere between your point and MacDonald’s. Not sure where that leaves me.

To bring it back to Rowling, I think the Harry Potter books, for me, fall somewhere in between as well. There were things that resonated in particular with things in my own life, that I am sure I took further than she meant them to go. And there were things in the books that made me think of some aspects of human nature, in particular, bravery (which seems to be something she esteems more than I had), in a different way. Is that a little of what you mean, or have I gone a different direction all together?

Pat

Yes, I think we’re talking about the same things. But for me it’s not so much the artist going in a different way, but going beyond, and taking us beyond ourselves.

One of the best examples I can think of from my own experience is seeing Michelangelo’s Pieta, not the beautifully finished one in St. Peter’s, but the rough, unfinished one which he did near the end of his life, the one at the Duomo in Florence. One contemporary wrote of it:

“It is impossible to speak of its beauty and its sorrow, of the grieving and sad faces of them all, especially of the afflicted Mother. Let it suffice: I tell you it is a rare thing, and one of the most laborious works that he has yet done… He intends to give the Deposition from the Cross to some church, and to be buried at the foot of the altar where it is placed.” – Asconio Condivi, The Life of Michelangelo, 1553.

I stood before this, looking at the face of the Mother, and at the face of Nicodemus, at the images of grief beyond expression, and tears came to my eyes. I have never been so moved by any work of art. When I read Rowling’s chapter ‘The Forest Again’, a pale echo of that feeling came to me again.

Of course, the grief that Michelangelo put on those faces resonates with grief that we ourselves have experienced. That is why it resonates so deeply. But go stand before the Pieta of the Duomo, and you will feel something more, something beyond.

Interesting aside. I have read that Michelangelo put his own features onto Nicodemus. If that is so, you can at the same time see how the sculptor felt about his work. It makes me think of Rowling crying as she wrote of Harry walking through the forest, in the company of his dead.

There is another story I have to tell you. Anthony Burgess wrote a play/commentary/book called “On Mozart”. I have never completely deciphered it, but one part of it takes place in heaven, where famous historical figures are gathering together to hear a piano recital by Mozart. While waiting, Beethoven and Mendelssohn and others converse amongst themselves. And then Mozart appears. This is how it ends:

Beethoven: Ach, mein Gott – the infant prodigy.

Mendelssohn: And now his father appears, presumably to turn the pages. Strange. It does not seem to be Leopold Mozart.

Beethoven: Oh, God.

Mendelssohn: Precisely.

That thing which genius has and does, is divinely inspired. We don’t go beyond it, it takes us beyond ourselves.

Thank you so much, Travis, for the link to George MacDonald’s essay. Since my background is more linguistic than literary, I was curious as to why he commented on the lack of a word comparable to “Maerchen” in German. I do read and speak some German, but I had always translated it as simply “fairytale.” I checked my German dictionary to find the derivation of the word, and found that it originates from on old German word, now obsolete, “Maer” meaning “Nachricht-news, information, tidings, in English. Perhaps part of MacDonald’s intent is to express that the German word implies there is information contained within the story that is being presented which is important to us to understand. It is meant to be informative.
The second word which came to my mind while reading MacDonald’s essay was the Greek word “kosmos”, which means unity, order and beauty. He stresses that narrative must have within itself an essential unity, and in this it is a small reflection of the greater, more beautiful creation which is the essence of the divine creator.
Finally, his analogy of comparing a “fairytale” to a sonata was brilliant. I love music,particularly medieval and baroque music, and regularly sing in our church’s choir. As I have aged, I have lost the ability to hear certain notes. What I hear is real, but it is different from what another person is hearing at the same time next to me. Moreover, I love to present at live performances, because I am sensitive to certain vibrations from instruments and voice. Some people feel those vibrations; others do not. That is why it is so wonderful not only to read literature, but to be able to share our reactions with others, for we each may hear certain notes that are harder for others to hear.
Mary Jo

Mary Jo, That reminds me of comment Travis made in the podcast about Gollum in LotR. I just watched the movies over the long holiday weekend and was struck by the character of Gollum. In many ways, he was similar to Snape. Alone and unloved for most of his life. He even had the stringy, greasy hair (well, a little bit anyway). Both characters had one person who believed that they could be redeemed. In Snape’s case, we find out he kind of was. In Gollum’s, he almost was for a time, but couldn’t overcome his obsession with the ring.
I’m not sure if there’s a larger point to be made there, but it stuck in my head after seeing the movies again.
Another thing I found interesting as a comparison, which may be best put in a different topic. Tolkien makes a point of having Sauron put a large part of his power and himself into the Ring. Christopher Tolkien published a whole book about this concept. Sauron’s master, Morgoth, had essentially done the same thing. He put most of his essence into the physical elements of the world he tried to corrupt. Sauron learned that concept from him and put much of his essence into the One Ring. In both cases, it diminished them to the point where they could be defeated by the right hero. I wonder if that is where JKR got her idea for the horcruxes. It had to at least have influenced her.
And there I go again bringing up Tolkien. Sorry about that.

I don’t understand JKR’s feelings towards her creation, Snape, either. But the good thing is, if he comes from a part of her which she hasn’t quite assimilated, or which she rejects, he will emerge again and again in her writings. Look for hostile, bitter men who do the right thing seemingly against their own will.

I agree that Dumbledore didn’t love Snape. But I wonder if Dumbledore was capable of loving anyone, in the way that Harry loves people, and the way his mother loved him.

I would feel compassion for Snape’s loneliness if I didn’t think that he preferred things that way. I think there was only one person whom he wanted to love him, his evolution as a caring human being, as per Rex, notwithstanding.

Travis, there is an emotional detachment to Dumbledore which maintains a distance between him and others, which I believe also limits his ability to love.

Thinking of all the conversations between Snape and Dumbledore in The Prince’s Tale chapter, I can only see one man using another to further his own goals. Dumbledore uses Snape’s remorse over Lily’s death to get him to help defeat Voldemort. But this isn’t how he presents it to Snape; to Snape he says that their goal is to save Lily’s child:

‘Help me protect Lily’s son’.

He even conjures Lily’s eyes to enlist Snape’s support. BTW, this isn’t the last time he uses Harry to get someone to work for him: remember the recruitment of Slughorn?

He is very deceptive with Snape until almost the end, letting him believe that he wants him to help save Lily’s son, instead of keeping him alive until he is ready to sacrifice himself. He is also willing to use Snape to end his own existence. To add insult to injury, he wants Snape to kill him so that Draco won’t damage his soul in the act. When Snape protests:

“And my soul, Dumbledore, mine?”

Dumbledore turns on the pity-a-poor-old-man trip.

And even then, he is not being truthful. The truth is, he wants Snape to end up with the Elder wand.

Deception upon deception upon deception.

When I started to write this comment, I was thinking: well, at least Dumbledore cared for Snape’s soul. But everything I see tells me that Dumbledore does not care for Snape for himself, only as a means to an end.

I don’t think you can love someone and use them like this.

Matthew, the book I referred to is Morgoth’s Ring (I think), edited by Christopher Tolkien. JRR basically said in some of his notes that Morgoth DID put much of his essence into the world that he corrupted. It did diminish him to the point where High King Fingolfin met him in single combat and wounded him. Beren, a mortal man, and Luthien were able to take one of the Silmarils from him. That is diminished from the powers of the Valar, of which he is one. Perhaps I did not speak what I meant there. No, he wasn’t defeated because he put his essence into the world, but it did make him susceptible.
Sauron was also very much diminished by making the Ring. True, it gave him some power over the other rings, but it also allowed him to be destroyed utterly just by destroying the Ring. Before he made the Ring, he was not even destroyed by the destruction of the island of Numenor.

Colourless blue, I don’t quite get the meaning of your second to last paragraph; perhaps you could clarify it?

I can comment on two of your ideas: that just as God, in his love, does not tempt people more than they can handle, so Dumbledore, by analogy, is doing the same with Snape. And that Dumbledore’s purposes and means are good.

I’m not sure I’d agree with St. Paul’s interpretation of the bruised reed analogy: it seems to me to mean more that God won’t kick you when you’re down. But accepting that St. Paul is more of authority on the Bible than I, does that fit Snape and Dumbledore? Well, it depends on the ultimate goal, doesn’t it? God doesn’t push us past our strength because he doesn’t want us to sin, but to do good, to do the right thing. And again, to what end? This is really heavy stuff, beyond my scope, but I think our redemption, salvation, our eternal souls, those things, are at least part of why we need to do the right thing.

Does Dumbledore display any concern for Snape’s eternal soul? He tells him:

‘You alone know whether it will harm your soul to help an old man avoid pain and humiliation.’

Now, earlier I called this a pity trip. And it is. But there is another idea there. That only the owner of the soul is responsible for the welfare of that soul. Dumbledore isn’t going to watch out for Snape’s soul because Snape is a grown man and can take care of his soul himself.

Now I kind of like this idea of making people responsible for their own redemption. But isn’t there something off with the logic? Snape has to take care of his own soul but Dumbledore is watching out for Draco’s soul, and wants Snape to help him in that task?

Now let’s assume that this is because Dumbledore still considers Draco a child, and children need help and guidance. So where’s the magic line? At what point is it, sorry Draco, you’re on your own now?

Don’t get me wrong. Helping people, helping people so they won’t be tempted beyond their ability to bear, there’s nothing wrong with that. But I notice that Severus Snape is not on the list of people Albus Dumbledore wants to help.

Trying to give Dumbledore the benefit of the doubt (because you are not Dumbledore’s greatest apologist, Travis is, and I can imagine what he’ll say if he reads this), let’s assume that Dumbledore, like God, gives Snape a hard task, and doesn’t make it any easier for him because a) Snape does need to atone for the evil which he did, for the sake of his eternal soul and b) Snape is a strong man, and a brave man, and more is expected of him because of that.

Then why not level with him?

Because of course if Dumbledore had told him: “I need you to keep Lily Evans’ son alive because he needs to sacrifice himself so your boss can die”, and: “I need you to zap me so Draco won’t and you can inherit the Elder wand which your boss will cheerfully kill you for”, Snape might conceivably have told him to get stuffed.

My final point, actually my main point, is this: Dumbledore is not God or even godlike. Somewhat wise, compassionate when it suits him, murder on those he loves. His purposes are good: stop Voldemort. But his means leave a lot to be desired. I’m repeating myself here, but he is far closer to Machiavelli’s Prince than our sad half-blood Prince ever was.

Matthew wrote:
“That he was so completely broken when the Ring was destroyed is not an indicator that he was weaker but that he had put all his eggs in one basket.”

Isn’t that by definition weaker? Sure he was able to build up armies and start to conquer the world again, but that was all on appearance and with the help of the Nazgul. And he was very powerful before. He was the 2nd in command to Morgoth. So even diminished, he would still be quite powerful. When it came down to it, though, destroying his horcruxe destroyed him.
To use HP to answer your response, Voldemort broke his soul into multiple pieces. That certainly allowed him to be destroyed once the horcruxes were destroyed. And yet he was still quite powerful when some of them were already destroyed. Being diminished in power is a relative thing.

Dumbledore is indeed the strategist in the War Against V.2. He is the equivalent of the Prince, as in Machiavelli, or, if that has too many negative connotations, let us call him the Grand Chess Master. He is playing the ultimate game of strategy, and his logic is impeccable. Dumbledore is also a good man; he wants to destroy the evil that Voldemort epitomizes, and he intends to use every tool at his disposal to accomplish this good goal.
Dumbledore knows that love is a powerful force; he is humble enough to acknowledge that he also has his own weaknesses and faults, and tries to account for his own frailties as he plays the game. I liked his character very much indeed.
But let us ask the opposite of the previous question I posed. Instead of “did Dumbledore love Snape?” let us consider if Snape loved Dumbledore.
Previously, I have written why I think Dumbledore did not love Snape, although he did come to respect him.
However, I do think Snape came to love and respect Dumbledore. As one of the “abandoned boys”(pg.697 DH) who found in Hogwarts a home, Snape found in Dumbledore someone who treated him with respect and trusted him, at least to a certain extent. Snape’s upset over Dumbledore’s injured hand, and his obedience in disputes such as caring for Lupin, or, in the end, killing Dumbledore, demonstrate a deep level of commitment. I think Dumbledore was a type of father-figure to Snape, at least to some degree, and that is why Snape was so hurt when Dumbledore spent hours with Harry, investing a trust in the boy that Dumbledore never gave to Snape. We know Snape had changed, as when he stops Phineas Nigellus from calling Hermione a “mudblood”,and we know the depth of his love to Lily, which Dumbledore did not realize; we know that Severus had spent years as a double agent working to defeat Voldemort, yet at the end of “The Prince’s Tale”, when Snape asks for the same amount of trust that Harry has received: “And you still aren’t going to tell me why it’s so important to give Potter the sword?” Dumbledore replies, “No, I don’t think so.” In response to this denial, Snape still goes out to accomplish what Dumbledore has asked him to do. Severus Snape’s love for Dumbledore is shown in his willingness to obey him, even when the trust he is obviously seeking is denied.

Colorless blue – isn’t that a paradox, btw? – Colorless blue, no matter how you frame it, Dumbledore lies to Snape. You argue that under certain circumstances it is good – even loving – to lie to someone. I would respond that it’s Dumbledore’s greatest weakness not to trust others, not to be honest with others, but to deceieve them, and manipulate them, and lie to them, to get them to do what he wants them to do.

Perhaps all great generals are thus. Perhaps they need to be. But I don’t think you can equate that with love. Generals can not afford to love people they might have to sacrifice. Or if they do love their soldiers, they can’t afford to let that love stand in the way of sacrificing them.

I am struck by this irony. Snape, the bitter social misfit, full of resentment and anger, loved truly, deeply and eternally. Dumbledore, the most respected and powerful wizard in wizardom, was
not controlled by love at all.

I guess it takes all kinds.

Travis,

I used to be a great believer in Dumbledore’s mercy, compassion, and yes, love. But that was before I read the Prince’s Tale. That chapter puts things in a different perspective. I was also a little surprised by his indifference to the suffering of the whimpering creature under the chair.

Perhaps it might help explain my position if I were to confide that I do have a bit of a tendency to put people on pedestals. And to be unforgiving of them when they inevitably topple.

Yes, Dumbledore talked about the power of love. Believed in it too. He had to, didn’t he? If not for the power of Lily and Harry’s love, all would be toast, wouldn’t it? Does that mean he personally knew how to love? Not necessarily. In the vulgar parlance, you don’t have to be a chicken to recogize an egg.

Harry’s struggle had several points. One was to believe that Dumbledore did know best, that the course he had charted for Harry was the right one. Horcruxes, not Hallows. I don’t think that Dumbledore’s love was very relevant to that understanding. Anyways, Harry wasn’t disturbed by whether Dumbledore loved him; he was disturbed because what he found out about Dumbledore contradicted what he thought he knew about him. His hero had feet of clay. His decision to follow Dumbledore’s judgement in any case showed great maturity on Harry’s part: he accepted that people, even the best of people, are human, and flawed, and that doesn’t mean you can’t trust and love them. It’s called growing up.

Was Dumbledore forgiving and kind? Yes, I think so, although I’d leave Snape out of the list of people he was forgiving and kind to. He used Snape. His tough love may have helped to save Snape’s soul (although surely his genuine remorse would have done that), but he more than got his money’s worth out of Snape.

BTW, I do agree that if Dumbledore loved anyone, he loved Harry. But it was a beside-the-point love, and something which, in his opinion, caused him to make mistakes.

Colorless, when people do something which they know is wrong, they justify it to themselves – and others – in a number of typical ways. Sykes and Matza first floated the idea of justifications people use to defend their behaviour. Bandura later developed a similar theory, called moral disengagement: people have moral standards which keep them from doing what they know is wrong; when they do do wrong, in order to keep themselves from feeling guilty, they disengage their moral standards.

Dumbledore lied to Snape and Harry. As you say, he didn’t lie outright: he let Snape believe something which was not true, that they shared the same goal: to keep Harry safe; and witheld from Harry the knowledge of the most crucial thing he would have to: sacrifice himself.

Of all the techniques of moral disengagement, the one that is the most insidious is called moral justification (also, appeal to higher loyalties). It goes something like this: I had to do it for an important cause. And also: I did it for his own good.

Admiring Dumbledore as we do, when we see evidence of his deceptiveness, we try to justify his behaviour. Dumbledore is good. Lying is bad. Dumbledore lied. Therefore, he must have had a good reason which justified his lying.

All this is a fancy way of saying: I think you’re making excuses for Dumbledore’s bad behaviour.

What you say about generals is also an example of moral disengagement, the one called sanitizing. The general sends one thousand men into battle, knowing based on previous experience, that 5%, or 50 men, will die. 15%, of 150 men, will be wounded. He can call it a risky operation. But the cold truth is that he is sacrificing 50 of his men for the sake of the military objective.

Back when I still believed that Dumbledore was the face of goodness in the books, I justified his moral transgressions to myself by saying that they were plot requirements, that JKR couldn’t maintain the suspense if Dumbledore was completely honest with Harry, and by extension, the reader. I now think she knew exactly what she was doing. She was constructing a morally flawed character, a Wise Man archetype whom the hero would have to transcend before he could go on to achieve his quest. The scene at King’s Cross, when Harry looks at the weeping, penitent Dumbledore and decides to forgive him says this beautifully:

‘Dumbledore patted Harry’s hand, and Harry looked up at the old man and smiled; he could not help himself. Hpw could he remain angry with Dumbledore now?’

Another piece or irony. Before the release of Deathly Hallows, we went on and on at this site about forgiveness, about how Harry had to learn to forgive before he could go on. We talked about Harry forgiving Snape, and sometimes Voldemort. We never, ever imagined that the one in greatest need of forgiveness would be Dumbledore.

Mary Jo, that’s a very good example of a man who loves his ambition more than he loves individual people. It’s a very good example because of course Reagan’s public policies did seem to have a very positive effect on the lives of millions of people. His family may have suffered, but in the overall balance, the world was a better place.

And I think that’s where I’m headed with this. There was a human cost to Dumbledore’s plans. Collateral damage is a term that comes to mind. Or am I thinking of friendly fire?

From the greater good point of view, what Dumbledore did was defensible. But to say that Dumbledore did what he did because he loved Snape, or even that he loved Snape is, to me, adding insult to injury.

I want to throw in a comment regarding the issue of lying to Snape and Harry. Colorless said:
“Perhaps a more fitting analogy is of soldiers in wartime — and Voldemort War II was a real war. There are many reasons why at least part of a battle plan may be close-held by the commander. Subordinates often don’t need to know the big picture; in many cases ; they would find it distracting.”
In real life, there is a good reason for not telling the soldiers the whole plan. Part of it is that it can distract them. Part of it is also that the soldiers on the front lines can be captured. If they know the whole battle plan, they can be forced to tell it. Then lots more people die.
The one thing everyone seems (to me) to be forgetting, is that the bad guy in these books was very adept at looking into people’s minds and reading their thoughts. That was well established in book 5, where Voldy used it to trick Harry. Now, don’t you think that Dumbledore, knowing Voldy’s talent for Legilimency, might have withheld information solely because of that? I know Snape was supposed to be hugely skilled at blocking that and fooling Voldy. But as the so-called Chess Master, I think Dumbledore could not afford to take the chance that Snape was going to always be better at blocking than Voldemort was at invading his mind. If Voldemort had found out Dumbledore’s true plans, it would have ruined everything. I think he even said something like that to Snape, about it not being wise to reveal to much even having a deep trust of Snape. And even more so for Harry, who they already knew was not able to block out Voldemort.
It’s not just concern for them, it is to prevent the Plan from getting to the hands (or mind) of the enemy.

You asked about the somewhat strange attraction many have to Snape. My answer just has two words:

Alan Rickman

I don’t think I can agree that Dumbledore set up Snape’s death. That section of King’s Cross might sound a bit like it, but Harry explains this rather more fully in the final battle with Voldemort:

Voldemort’s hand was trembling on the Elder Wand, and Harry gripped Draco’s very tightly. The moment, he knew, was seconds away.

“That wand still isn’t working properly for you because you murdered the wrong person. Severus Snape was never the true master of the Elder Wand. He never defeated Dumbledore.”

He killed–

“Aren’t you listening? Snape never beat Dumbledore! Dumbledore’s death was planned between them! Dumbledore intended to die undefeated, the wand’s last true master! If all had gone as planned, the wand’s power would have died with him, because it had never been won from him!”

Granted, had “all gone as planned”, Snape probably would have had the Elder Wand, so Dumbledore might have known that the plan put Snape’s life in jeopardy. That doesn’t necessarily mean he intentionally set up Snape’s death. But then, it’s clear that I read parts of this a little differently from some of you; I saw Dumbledore’s phrase “Poor Severus” as neither calm nor casual. To me, that was a statement of horror and regret.

I also find it hard to believe that Harry would have named his own son after Dumbledore as well as Snape had he considered his old mentor to be a calculating and coldhearted man. Harry has a very strong sense of right and justice, which at one point (in book 5) is very much offended by his own father. He forgives individual wrongs; he does not overlook cruelty. He not only forgave Dumbledore; he went back to him, seeking advice, after the final battle, and he gave him the greatest honor he could by giving the name “Albus” to his own son.

colorless.blue.ideas,
Good clarifying questions to reyhan. Though be careful to avoid any attempt at psychological assessment as per the first point in the ‘Rules for commenting’.

Thankyou

Matthew

I’ve said this before, but I’ll say it again, since there has been a lot of water under the blog since then: I do think that Dumbledore loved Harry to the extent that he was capable of loving anyone.

I think he also used Harry, and he didn’t tell him the whole story, but he used everyone, and he never told anyone the whole truth, that was his way. And I think that a general in a war has to be that way. People have to be secondary to the overall goal. The good of the few has to give way to the greater good. You can’t win a war without being willing to make some sacrifices.

I think this dilemma is bigger than Dumbledore and Harry or Dumbledore and Snape. It is the eternal dilemma of the good of the few versus the good of the many. Also called, you can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs.

So Dumbledore loved Harry, but he didn’t let his love get in the way of his main objective.

Dumbledore did not love Snape. Snape did not love Dumbledore. Snape went to Dumbledore before and after Lily’s death because he, like many of us, saw Dumbledore as the one man who could make a difference, fix things, save people. Even when Dumbledore couldn’t save Lily, Snape still saw his as the fixer. And he did what took Harry a while to sort out: he put his faith in Dumbledore, did everything he asked him to, and walked to his death following his instructions.

A good soldier, Severus Snape.

And I think Dumbledore saw Snape as his loyal lieutenant. No love lost between them. They were united by their common goal.

So far, so good. The part where it all breaks down for me is that Dumbledore let Snape believe that they both wanted the same thing. This is deception; it goes one step beyond using someone, and enters the realm of manipulation.

Actually, it enters the realm of John Le Carre. My hat is off to JKR for going there.

Now, I appear to have touched off some strong feelings by some of my comments, so I think it’s time for me to abandon this topic. But following the principle of might as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb, here is one last provocative comment.

Much must be forgiven a dead man. But even accounting for his deadness, does it not strike anyone else that at King’s Cross Dumbledore is somewhat excessive in his self-flagellation, his “profuse apology” as Mary Jo describes it? Does it not sound somewhat theatrical? A little put on? Almost like Horace Slughorn?

Dumbledore rarely put more than one egg in one basket. He told the members of the Order of the Phoenix about the prophecy (because he needed them to protect it from Voldemort), but he didn’t tell Harry. He told Harry – and indirectly Hermione and Ron – about Voldemort’s life and his Horcruxes (because he needed him / them to destroy them), but he didn’t tell the Order members. He let Snape know about his deathly injury (because he needed him to save him and later to kill him), but he didn’t tell anyone else. He told Snape that Harry was a Horcrux and had to sacrifice himself in order to vanquish Voldemort (because he needed Snape to pass that information to Harry in the end), but he didn’t tell Harry himself.

We could argue that he wanted to avoid any risk that could compromise his plan for the greater good. Voldemort could have read those people’s minds or tortured them. However, in not entrusting his close allies with everything he knew and planned, he also put his plan at high risk. If Harry, Hermione and Ron had been killed, nobody would have known about Voldemort’s Horcuxes. If Harry hadn’t accidentally been present when Snape died, he wouldn’t have known that he was supposed to sacrifice his life. Dumbledore’s plan did work out, not because it was infallible, but because JKR wanted it to.

We know Dumbledore had an issue with power:
“I, meanwhile, was offered the post of Minister of Magic, not once, but several times. Naturally, I refused. I had learned that I was not to be trusted with power.” [...] “power was my weakness and my temptation.”
But he was also dealing with power when he pursued his plan using Harry, Snape and others. So, he learned from his mistakes in the past, but he was still not perfect in dealing with power when he died. At least this is what I believe.

We were supposed to trust Dumbledore, the wise old man, completely during the first six books. As Hermione said: “if we can’t trust Dumbledore, we can’t trust anyone.” In Book 7 we find out that we can’t trust Dumbledore – in the sense that he would always tell the truth and never deceive those who were on his side.

When Dumbledore revealed the prophecy to Harry, he said:
“I cared more for your happiness than your knowing the truth, more for your peace of mind than my plan, more for your life than the lives that might be lost if the plan failed. In other words, I acted exactly as Voldemort expects we fools who love to act.” [...]
“And now, tonight, I know you have long been ready for the knowledge I have kept from you for so long, because you have proved that I should have placed the burden upon you before this.”
And in Book 6:
“You said, at the end of last term, you were going to tell me everything,” said Harry. It was hard to keep a note of accusation from his voice. “Sir,” he added.
“And so I did,” said Dumbledore placidly. “I told you everything I know.”

He had a good reason to lie to Umbridge and Fudge about the DA. But in this case it is hard to imagine any good reason why he had to lie to Harry flatly and – even worse – placidly. He says ‘I should have told you the whole truth’, and the very next moment, again, he doesn’t.

Concerning Dumbledore’s behaviour towards Snape, to me, some of his words in ‘The Prince’s Tale’ sound a bit like fake Moody’s “there are spots that don’t come off.” It was not very loving to call Snape “a basket that spends so much time dangling on the arm of Lord Voldemort” and to ignore his 16 years of penance by saying: “Don’t be shocked, Severus. How many men and women have you watched die?”

I think this is what Reyhan means and I agree with her. On the other hand, I also agree with Jennifer that Dumbledore’s tears when seeing Snape’s silver doe shows a good deal of compassion for him – which is a form of love.

I believe that Dumbledore’s intentions were good and that he was acting out of love and for a much better ‘greater good’ than he did in his youth. He felt a personal love for at least two individuals: Ariana and Harry. I do not believe that he felt love for Snape as an individual person, except in some rare situations, but Snape was somehow included in Dumbledore’s detached kind of universal love for all beings (as well as Umbridge and young Voldemort), which, at times, appears to be a bit creepy regarding the collateral damage.

Dumbledore was a flawed human being, as all of JKR’s characters are. In the end, Snape and Harry made their choices voluntarily, despite Dumbledore’s manipulations and deceptions. They trusted him and followed his advice, and on the whole it served them well. Although Harry could have died, he saved the world from Voldemort by sacrificing his life. And although Snape actually died (a sad and vain death), he redeemed himself and had a big part in Harry’s success. Both would probably not have happened without Dumbledore’s assistance.

I looked after it Travis.

Matthew

Rena writes, “We were supposed to trust Dumbledore, the wise old man, completely during the first six books. As Hermione said: “if we can’t trust Dumbledore, we can’t trust anyone.” In Book 7 we find out that we can’t trust Dumbledore – in the sense that he would always tell the truth and never deceive those who were on his side.”

I disagree with the thought that we only find out Dumbledore does not always tell the truth in Book 7. As I have written previously, in the Prisoner of Azkaban, Dumbledore “whose eyes were twinkling behind his glasses ” (pg. 420) in effect, lies to Snape by mocking what indeed had actually happened. It bothered me very much at the time, because I think a profound respect for the truth is extremely important, especially in our everyday relationships. The concept of acceptable social lies, also mentioned previously, is a complex one. I think our society in general is too accepting of lies; Corrie ten Boom’s recollection of her first conscious lie, in her book THE HIDING PLACE, when she began hiding Jews in WW2, ought to be reread and considered by more people today.
In their personal interactions, when Dumbledore, Snape and Harry talked to one another, who told the truth most often? It was the most suspect character, Snape, who turns out to have been the most truthful.

Rena,

I would like to clarify what I meant with regard to the veracity of Harry, Snape and Dumbledore. I had set limited perameters: that is, if we extract only the conversations between any combination of the main three: Harry, Snape, and Dumbledore, we will find that Snape was the most truthful of the three. I was not looking at the general conversations of the three with other characters in the books because I can’t say I am completely familiar with all those conversations. By “to lie” I am using my dictionary’s definitions to 1. to say something that is not true in order to deceive. and 2. to speak the truth in a misleading way so as to deceive.
I disagree with you that the instances you cite are lies.
.The comment to Fudge. I think Snape honestly believes this of himself. I think he considered Harry very spoiled by the other teachers, and he believed that only he was treating Harry like any other student.
2. The statement about Hermione’s teeth is not a lie, in that he is not trying to deceive people into believing that they are not longer, but it is a CRUEL SARCASM.
3. The refusal to believe others’ testimonies is not a lie. It is simply stubborn refusal to listen to others. Such stubborness is a great fault, but it is not the same as a lie.
2. The quote to Harry during his Occlumency lesson can be divided into two parts. The first, “There are many things in the Department of Mysteries, Potter, few of which you would understand and none of which concern you” is a statement of his opinion of Harry’s role with regard to the Phoenix’s work in the Department of Mystery. The Order does not want Harry to be concerned in those matters precisely because the Order(namely, Dumbledore) fears Harry could provide a mental link to Voldemort.
The second comment, ‘“you are neither special nor important” is the closest we come to a lie. We are dealing with an expression of an opinion which I think Snape wants to believe. I would argue that Snape lies to himself here, as well as to Harry.

This thread has died, but I was reminded of it in a news article yesterday on retired Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Marine General Peter Pace. We had discussed above the concept of the love a military commander has for his troops. Here’s one story.

At the start of his career, then-2nd Lieutenant Peter Pace was a platoon leader in Vietnam. During the course of their deployment, seven men of his command were killed in action. He dedicated his life to honor the sacrifices of those seven men. The first of this month he retired from the Marine Corps and from his position as the most senior officer in the U.S. military.

Here is a picture of something he did on his first day in retirement. Here is an explanation. (Read the first half of the article; the latter part transitions to political commentary.)

From the discussion between Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore at the King’s-Cross-in-the-clouds, I would posit that the latter shows his similar love for Harry and respect for Harry’s strength of character. It’s a similar — not identical — love: Dumbledore is much more scheming and ex ante facto than GEN Pace. Dumbledore also doesn’t have four stars to pin up: he only has the Deathly Hallows. He gave them to Harry, trusting that Harry would do the right thing. The trust was not in vain.