The new novel sees Harry's sense of wonder challenged, writes Eileen Battersby, Literary Correspondent.
Destiny is relentless and in the experience of Harry Potter - orphan, boy wizard and increasingly exasperated super hero - there seems little hope of an ordinary life, even by wizarding standards.
Book six, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, at 607 pages, more than 150 shorter than its predecessor but burdened by a weighty shock, has now appeared, and thousands of copies have already been delivered by either security van or heavily muscled elite flying corps owls, for readers anxious to find out what happens next.
As is obvious with any plot-driven narrative, particularly one spanning six books sustained by time-shifts, flashback, detail, cross-reference and, above all, its accumulating interior history, literary style is not a major factor, and cursed be the reviewer who gives any plot development away. It is acceptable though to stress, the situation has worsened. That dark undercurrent created by the return of Lord Voldemort, an egomaniac desperate for power and immortality, is far from his vendetta with the Boy Who Lived - it has become a fact of life ranging far beyond Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. No one is safe. The undulating boundaries between the wizarding community and that of everyday British Muggle life have become more uncertain.
As this new book opens, the British prime minister, weary from a demanding day, reluctantly agrees to meet, and not for the first time, Cornelius Fudge, outgoing Minister for Magic. Two years have passed since the publication of the fifth book, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, but for Harry and his pals, that lull was shorter, only the length of a summer holiday, and with it, waiting for Ordinary Wizarding Test results. The reader though is presented with a jarring re-immersion into Rowling's clever and subversive alternative society.
The first of the usual cast to appear this time is the sacked Fudge. He briefs the prime minister, a dim character who appears well out of his depth as regards things magical while, having lost his job, Fudge appears to have developed a sense of irony. It is surprising to hear Fudge explaining that a number of disasters which have hit the Muggle world are the result of upheaval being caused by Voldemort's followers such as the Death Eaters and Dementors. Dim though he is, the prime minister is able to say "I thought Dementors guard the prisoners at Azkaban?" As with Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (2003), still the best, Rowling chooses to begin this instalment with a chapter far removed from Number 4, Privet Drive, smug suburban home of Harry's unlovingly, begrudging aunt and uncle. Still, the exchange between Fudge and the Muggle prime minister is the weakest opening chapter in the series because, prior to this, it was clear that while most wizards have a passing awareness of Muggle life, and a few, such as Arthur Weasley are obsessed with Muggle memorabilia, Muggles know nothing.
By chapter two, the action is firmly back on course. Intrigue and conspiracy set the tone. Two female figures are furtively, one reluctantly, seeking a house in order to discuss urgent business with the most ambivalent character in the series. They are sisters and one of them is the depraved Bellatrix Lestrange, killer of Sirius Black, Harry's godfather, a wronged anti-hero and my favourite character. The death of Sirius, a desperate blow for Harry, was also the pivotal plot shift in what is a saga of twists and turns.
Though not the first fatality, Harry's parents had died violently when he was a baby, and Cedric Diggory in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, emerged as a sacrificial victim in the excitement surrounding the Triwizard Tournament.
For all the drama of the early books, with each new development testing the courage and resourcefulness of Harry and his pals, there remained a sense of the everyday rituals of school life, the tensions, the scary creatures as well as the fun. Hogwarts is the home Harry never had but even its sense of sanctuary, which has always endured despite the presence of the bitter teacher, potions master Severus Snape, has finally been compromised.
Growing up is an adventure, marked by opportunity, but also the usual responsibility, tensions, rivalries and doubts. The arrival of Dolores Jane Umbridge and her legacy of petty cruelty in The Order of the Phoenix introduced a nasty, harder atmosphere.
Harry and his friends are beginning to have their sense of wonder challenged - such is life - but also their faith in the power of the elders to protect them. Several times throughout that narrative, it became possible to not only understand but to share in Harry's multiple resentments. There was also the new uncertainties of boys and girls no longer seeing each other as simply fellow classmates.
As the books have progressed, the magic has become more violent. It should be pointed out that magic as used by Dumbledore and taught by his staff is intended in the name of defence, not entertainment.
Violence has always featured as a narrative device throughout the series and has consolidated the most exciting episodes. In keeping with any team sport, the playing of Quidditch, a robust form of Lacrosse-cum-hockey on broomsticks, is approached with all the seriousness of war.
Comedy, particularly in the context of school life, has been another sustaining support. The various characters are seen in moments of crisis, but insights into their respective personalities emerge when we see them dealing with ambition, loss, rivalry and feeling.
Our hero for all his glamour also knows what it is like to be viewed with suspicion, to be denied his pleasure - playing Quidditch - and also to experience what he sees as the loss of Dumbledore's favour. It is almost a relief when, this time, Dumbledore comes to visit Harry and accompany him to the Weasley home, the Burrow, for the remainder of the vacation.
Tougher, sadder, curiously more realistic, more blunt - for all the magic, it is less magical. The language is sharper, more slangy, the romance is of the "teasing and/or snogging" variety. Some of the older characters are also less formal.
There is less character development because the cast is now familiar, and an overwhelming sense of loss and the betrayal of trust. It is serious. And six books on, Rowling has her readers, and no one will enter this narrative without having read the previous five.
Eileen Battersby is Literary Correspondent of The Irish Times