Moral Fibre and Outstanding Courage: Harry Potter's Ethics of Courage as a Paradigm for the Muggle World

Chapter Four Moral Fibre and Outstanding Courage: Harry Potter’s Ethics of Courage as a Paradigm for the Muggle World Eliana Ionoaia The Harry Potter novels, with their flowing, but undemanding prose, do not seem to advocate morality, or so the critics claim. The absence of any overt religious messages might lead the reader, or critic, astray in believing there is no morality behind this world of fantasy. However, it should not be mistaken for a lack of moral centre as the books do provide a consistent, yet adjustable, ethical code—thus remaining enjoyable while adding a dimension of moral seriousness. Although Harry Potter is constantly under threat from Lord Voldemort, he triumphs over evil despite his slight chances of success chiefly due to the guidance provided by Dumbledore and other teachers in the guise of directions on paying attention and efficiently identifying good and evil at any level. The foundation for the morality of the Harry Potter novels seems to be based on Thomas Hobbes’s concept of summum malum which must be avoided—thus, Harry Potter and his friends all strive in that direction. The summum bonum of eudæmonism or deontologism is not truly present here, although it may be argued that defeating the summum malum, symbolised by Voldemort will lead to the summum bonum. The battle between good and evil in these novels is portrayed vividly, and this ever-waging war is brimming with insights about how to conduct one’s life; thus no matter at what stage in life we are located, the lessons present in this series of children’s books can be essentially insightful and applicable to the Muggle world. On reading such fantasy books for children, the reader would expect to find everything solved magically—to his surprise this does not happen. Challenging problems, looming menaces, frightening spells, dangerous creatures lurking in the dark are all present in this world of wizards and witches, yet they are not countered simply by magic. Instead, intelligence and reason, courage and determination are the qualities required to overcome them. Spells do not solve problems, and they can even make things worse. Planning, friendship and courage as well as the resourcefulness of the main characters are inspiring virtues to be learned from these books. Incantations and spells do not epitomise the meaning of life in the Harry Potter world, nor in our Muggle world. On the other hand, moral virtues may be the key to success in life in both worlds. The moral virtue of courage in the Harry Potter books—with a lesser emphasis on virtuous choice of the right path in life and of friendship as a mechanism enabling such choices—makes the characters well-rounded. These novels may be considered as a guiding light for their readers in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, which have seen a crumbling of the observance of traditional moral codes, a collapse of religious faith and a growing belief in science leading to an understanding of morality as relative and futile. To a great extent, this mistrust of morality and ethics, attributed to Nietzsche’s works, moral and ethical relativism and postmodern thinking all contribute to a questioning of apparently universal standards. The age of modernism was concerned with disciplining individuals and making them obey rules and codes of ethics, whereas the Postmodernist period has been associated with “the celebration of the ‘demise of the ethical’, of the substitution of aesthetics for ethics” undergoing a denigration or derision of ethics as a modern constraint abandoned and “destined for the dustbin of history”; thus, according to Gilles Lipovetsky (1992), humankind has reached a post-deontic age, “where our conduct has been freed from the last vestiges of oppressive ‘infinite duties’, ‘commandments’, and ‘absolute obligations’.” The Demise of the Ethical Zygmunt Bauman (2004) discusses the inadequacy of our current moral codes in comparison with the moral quandaries humanity faces in the twenty-first century since he deems it true that the rules inherited from the past, making an attempt at deontic norms by telling humans how to decide which actions are good (and thus ought to be taken) and which actions are bad (and thus ought to be avoided) depending on their visible and predictable effects (18) do not offer an absolute certainty of a positive outcome. In a more practical vein, how can the moral rules expounded by our forefathers be applied to those able to obliterate every living being from Earth through weapons of mass destruction? Thus, Bauman’s exposition of our moral predicament as a race is essentially accurate: “Our ethical tools—the code of moral behaviour, the assembly of the rules of thumb we follow—have not been, simply, made to the measure of our present powers” (18). Another interesting point made by Bauman (2004) is that, while we are all supposed to be moral subjects—aware of ethical norms of conduct—few actually choose to act in a moral way, opting for the morally good (28). The “strongly felt moral ambiguity” of postmodern society (28), the freely chosen actions and the agonisingly uncertain states lead to a dire need for reliable guidance and a yearning for relief from moral responsibility. In fact, humanity seems to be requesting a moral code to be trusted, to lift the ambiguity of moral judgements (21), to rectify wrongful actions, preferably without involving higher powers seen as authorities (God, for instance) (25). In Bauman’s words, Paradoxically, the very freedom to judge and choose … necessitates an external force coercing the person to do good “for his own salvation”, “for her own welfare”, or “in her own interest.” (28) The freedom to choose moral or immoral behaviour rests within individual hands and with the demise of the higher authority (God) there are no restraints placed on humans. Without a higher authority, without the threat of punishment in the next life, if not in this one—acting as karma—there is no deterrent to immorality. In a more genial mood, Bauman offers a possible solution to our predicament: the re-personalising of morality, in other words a reverting of moral responsibility “from the finishing line (to which it was exiled) to the starting point (where it is at home) of the ethical process” (34). This re-personalising means the moral being needs to ask “What kind of person should I be?” and then extrapolate the correct answer. Similarly, Alasdair MacIntyre (2007) in After Virtue describes a collapse of ethical thinking in an irreligious world (24), as a result of the lack of moral concepts, moral sentences (oughts) laid down by God (53). The “moral injunctions were originally at home in a scheme in which their purpose was to correct, improve and educate that human nature” (55). MacIntyre is an exponent of the thesis that moral practice in our age consists of “fragmented survivals” of the morality of the past (110-11). These fragmented, irrelevant concepts of morality have been reassembled in disarray, unlike an ordered, Christian morality. Michael Slote’s From morality to virtue (1992) attributes the cause of MacIntyre’s perceived collapse and rebirth of morality to a call to arms of several philosophers in the twentieth century who “have urged us to start approaching ethics as a whole through a primary or initial focus on virtue-related concepts” (87). They heralded the demise of the ethical as an attempt to make humankind react, to steer us into action. They deemed that a war needed to be waged on the current and fundamentally flawed ethical abstractions. In response to the proclaiming of a gloomy outcome for morality, Robert Merrihew Adams (2006) considers that the current shift from an ethics of action to an ethics of virtues is a laudable and welcome change from the deontic “ought to” of morality, the ethics of action as prevalent meme, to “virtue, or moral character, as an important subject of moral reflection” (4). In his own account of an ethics of virtue, similar to that of Aristotle, Merrihew extolls “being for good” (discriminating between good and evil and acting towards the good) and “excellence” (virtus in Latin and arēte in Greek in an Aristotelian tradition) (14): “I identify virtue with persisting excellence in being for the good” (6). Recovery of the Greek Ethics of Virtue In effect, this move towards an ethics of virtue is a return to Greek morality as developed by Plato and most prevalently by Aristotle. The shift is from “What ought we to do?” to “What kind of person should I be?” The interest in virtue ethics was encouraged by the works of Elizabeth Anscombe (2000) and Alasdair MacIntyre (2007). Anscombe discussed the disappearance of the explanations for concepts such as morality, thus leaving ethics in a quandary. In the same vein, MacIntyre (2007) posited that modern society inherited multiple ethical traditions, or at least fragments of contradictory theories instead of a unitary tradition (2). These two views result from Nietzsche’s undermining of Christian morality in beyond good and evil (1990), The genealogy of morals (1956) and The will to power (1968). From his advocacy of moral relativism and his expounding of the slave revolt in morals (1968, 301; 1956, 182), Nietzsche rewrites the history of Christian morality in terms of slave and master moralities competing to achieve supremacy: for him the Christians—weak and under the yoke of Roman domination—perpetrated a shift from master morality, extolling opulence, pride, power, and freedom, to slave morality, subscribing to the slave virtues of meekness, patience, and industriousness thus leading to a glorification of the abused and oppressed (1990, 195). Alasdair MacIntyre analyses Nietzsche’s claims and rejects them, preferring to return to Aristotle and to update virtue ethics through a neo-Aristotelian approach to integrity and to the practice of virtue in individual lives. In the “Prologue” of the third edition of his work “After Virtue After a Quarter of a Century,” he states I remain equally committed to the thesis that it is only from the standpoint of a very different tradition, one whose beliefs and presuppositions were articulated in their classical form by Aristotle that we can understand both the genesis and the predicament of moral modernity. (2007, x) The 25 years which have elapsed have not convinced MacIntyre that the situation is any different than in the past century. Thus, it is Aristotle who provides the key to the morality of our modernity. Due to the potential new theory of ethical virtue, the 20th century ended on a very different note from that of earlier decades: the last few years were crowned by a movement towards ethics and a rejection of Postmodernism, through the emergence of debates on global ethical issues, the appearance of foundations and research centres in the field of ethics, the spread of ethical codes and ethical boards, of bioethics, humanitarian actions, ethical concerns in business, all of which have led to a revitalising of values and responsibility. This last decade of the twentieth century has proven that our times needed a return to the fundamentals which were rediscovered in the spiritual and religious sphere of the classics. According to Zygmunt Bauman (2004), “it remains to be seen whether the time of Postmodernity will go down in history as the twilight, or the renaissance, of morality” (3-4). Michael Slote in Morals from Motives and From Mor ality to Virtue describes virtue ethics as agent-focused, not based in moral laws, rules, and principles but focusing on the “virtuous individual and those inner traits, dispositions, and motives that qualify her/him as being virtuous” and emphasising “the ethical assessment of agents and their (inner) motives and character traits [more] than … the evaluation of acts and choices” (Slote 2002,4;1992,89). Thus, moral rules or the deontic character of morality lost their ascendancy in modern moral philosophy and they are being substituted by aretaic morality which attempts to understand what constitutes the virtuous individual, considering dichotomies such as admirable and reprehensible, good and bad, since, if something is not good and admirable, it definitely will not be held up as a virtue (2001,4;1992,89). The corpus of philosophers supporting a theory of virtues in antiquity comprises Plato, Aristotle and the Stoics; however, for our purpose, Aristotle’s theory of virtue may be best applied considering the focus on the bravery of the main characters of the Harry Potter novels. Aristotle’s Account of the Virtues The existence of a moral philosophy in Plato is questionable; however, in The Republic the four cardinal virtues of temperance (sophrosyne), prudence (phronesis), fortitude (andreia), and justice (dikaiosyne) are depicted in Book 4. These four virtues are recycled by Aquinas, who adds a further group of three, considered the Christian virtues: hope, faith and love or charity. Since the four cardinal virtues are not moral in character in Plato’s conception, as they belong to the city as well as to the human soul, their relevance for us is limited. Plato does, however, believe, like Aristotle, that happiness results from living a moral life, although for Aristotle, the virtues (aretai) are moral in character. The latter begins his project by stating that all our actions aim at some good (kalos) and that knowledge of the good is of the highest importance. The highest good for Aristotle (2004) is happiness, defined as an activity of the soul, and identified with virtue (15): Of all the good things to be done, what is the highest? Most people, I should think, agree about what it is called, since both the masses and sophisticated people call it happiness. (5) Virtue of the soul is attained through habit and experience, while happiness, despite being the highest good, is a mean between pleasure and pain. The characteristic of acting voluntarily, of making deliberate choices and of the mean are all extremely significant for Aristotle’s conceptions of goodness and of virtue. The acquisition of virtue plays a crucial role in relation to happiness, and it is essential for understanding happiness. The word used for happiness—eudaimonia contains the prefix “eu” meaning good or well-being; thus eudaimonia is not simply happiness or joy; it is tantamount to living and acting well, and it represents an instance of human excellence — the attainment of those actions and sentiments which make life worth living. The philosopher states that the virtuous person has to have the appropriate motivation for his good actions. Aristotle inseparably links virtue and its exercise to the good life as happiness (eudaimonia) which, however, is the final goal (telos) of life. The doctrine of the mean could be explained as a precept of moderation in all our actions since the two opposites of the mean are the extremes—either in deficiency or excess—and the path to tread is equidistant from these extremes through the choices we make in order to lead a harmonious life. In accordance with the concept of the mean, courage is found in between confidence and fear, temperance between pain and pleasure, truth between boastfulness and self-deprecation, appropriate indignation is found between envy and spite (Aristotle 2004, 32-34).Thus, these triads consist of two vices and a virtue, the extremes symbolising a missing of the mark, whereas the mean is a difficultly attainable aim. The virtuous choice or excellence of character (arête) is an informed, rational choice (prohairesis) made according to the mean, avoiding all extremes, and it has to be a voluntary choice. Prohairesis seems to indicate something chosen before something else—either preferred to the alternative or subjected to deliberation as a rational process before the actual selection of the action to be undertaken. The moral action, for Aristotle, must be chosen for its own sake not for some other possible collateral benefits or as a way of attaining something else. The same is true of happiness since individuals can only be happy by manifesting their excellencies of character—the virtues—in all activities. While agreeing with the philosophers of antiquity that virtues, being or character rather than acting, are at the forefront of our morality, I also believe that morality does not stem simply from “being” and that the virtuous person must act in accordance with his/her beliefs because the choice to act virtuously is commendable, even in the most dire of circumstances seemingly admitting little choice. These actions are likely to produce positive outcomes. [moved it here from the end of previous subchapter] The Ethics of Virtue Applied The quandary of morality characteristic of the twentieth century seemed to be well on its way to being solved towards the fin de siecle, and the Harry Potter novels inscribe themselves in this trend. These seven novels provide a consistent, yet adjustable, ethical code whose role is to encourage young people to distinguish between right and wrong and act accordingly. The focus on a moral code in these books makes necessary a definition of concepts such as morality and virtue, applicable to the Harry Potter novels. According to Bernard Gert, morality is an informal public system applying to all rational persons, governing behavior that affects others, and includes what are commonly known as moral rules, ideals, and virtues and has the lessening of evil or harm as its goal. (Gert 2005, 27) The moral system in these novels governs the conduct of Harry and the Order of the Phoenix. They inculcate certain virtues within an ethical theory of virtues, leading to a lessening of evil and harm in the wizarding world. The behaviour of Harry, Ron, and Hermione as well as the conduct of the DA (Dumbledore’s Army) and the Order of the Phoenix is concerned with the welfare of the inhabitants of their world and with defeating the summum malum, represented by Voldermort, in order to achieve what in the wizarding world would be regarded as the summum bonum. At the very beginning of Harry’s adventures, though presumably dead, Voldemort is still very much present in the minds of all who have ever heard the terrifying stories of the atrocities he perpetrated. More than 10 years after his disappearance and alleged defeat by a mere infant, Voldemort still looms as a ubiquitous menace: he inspires a fear so great that it borders on panic every time anyone dares pronounce his name. In fact, with the exception of Albus Dumbledore, the Order of the Phoenix and of Harry himself, everyone else shies away from pronouncing Voldemort’s name, using a euphemism instead: You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named among the general populace, and Dark Lord, among his inner circle, the Death Eaters. Harry uses the title the Dark Lord has designated for himself, Lord Voldermort, while Dumbledore uses both this name as well as his real name, Tom Marvolo Riddle. By depicting a code of conduct in the face of evil and adversity, the Harry Potter novels develop an ethical theory of virtues. Thus the next concept to be defined is that of virtue. Lee H. Yearley (1990) provides one based on Aristotle’s exposition of the virtues: A virtue is a disposition to act, desire, and feel that involves the exercise of judgment and leads to a recognizable human excellence or instance of human flourishing. Moreover, virtuous activity involves choosing virtue for itself and in light of some justifiable life plan. (13) Knowing that life would be better in the world without the menace represented by Voldemort, and being willing to act on that very judgment, leads to morally good actions that may be identified as human excellence in the case of Harry and his friends. The main character deems himself obliged to act in such a way since he feels that it is the right way to act—thus he chooses virtue for its own intrinsic value—yearning to live a life his parents would be proud of and refusing to crawl under a rock and hide behind those who may be able to defend him. Moral Fibre and Deliberate Choice One may say that Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley flourish through the seven novels, from frightened first years to courageous adults who thwart Voldemort’s plans, finally defeating him in The Deathly Hallows. They choose the right path to act in light of a ‘justifiable life plan’—as they do not want to live in a world controlled by Voldemort. Indebted to Aristotle, Steven W. Patterson’s (2005) tripartite definition of what it means to be virtuous includes the following three criteria: 1. Knowing what is morally good and what it requires of one; 2. Choosing to do what is morally good because it is morally good, and 3. One’s morally good acts are done out of a firm disposition to act in such ways.(124) Thus, Harry Potter and his friends know what is good and choose to act morally due to their own firm disposition to act in such ways: Hermione creates SPEW because slavery is morally wrong and helps Hagrid save Buckbeak by researching practices and laws regarding unruly beasts because it is morally right. Ron saves Harry in The Deathly Hallows by diving into a lake to stop him from drowning because it is the right thing to do morally (instead of just standing by and letting it happen). While Dumbledore makes Harry see that even if Voldemort had not hurt him personally, he would still want him destroyed: “He thought of all the terrible deeds he knew Voldemort had done. A flame seemed to leap inside his chest, searing his throat” (HBP, 478). Dumbledore himself best illustrates virtuous living since in his long years he has chosen wisely how to act in difficult situations: 50 years before the action of the novels, Dumbledore knew that the morally good thing to do was to fight Grindewald in a duel and defeat him in order to put an end to the latter’s evil deeds. Dumbledore chose to act in accordance with the morally good, regardless of his own fear that he might find out which of the two had, in their adolescence, caused Dumbledore’s sister Ariana to die. Despite his fears, he concluded that it was something that needed to be done and opted for the moral action for its own sake, knowing that he could not live with himself if he did not. Thus, for Dumbledore, just as for all virtuous persons, the actions to be done are value-laden in the field of emotions. Our emotions, as virtuous persons, are the ones that tell us that we have chosen the right path. Harry’s moral development in choosing morally virtuous acts is constant; he never falters when the plot requires some definitive action. He chooses to act in a moral manner because, being who he is emotionally, he cannot behave in any other way. He explains his deliberate choice by expounding the worst that could happen if Voldemort did acquire the stone, showing that he would rather put himself in the way of a lesser harm—being expelled—than not deterring what might well prove to be a catastrophe for the wizarding world. In the first novel of the series, Harry decides to go after the Philosopher’s Stone so as to prevent any of Voldemort’s acolytes from getting it first because he knows this is the best way to act: ‘I’m going out of here tonight and I’m going to try and get to the Stone first.’ … ‘You can’t!’ said Hermione. ‘After what McGonagall and Snape have said? You’ll be expelled!’ ‘SO WHAT!’ Harry shouted. Don’t you understand? If Snape gets hold of the Stone, Voldemort’s coming back! Haven’t you heard what it was like when he was trying to take over? There won’t be any Hogwarts to get expelled from! He’ll flatten it, or turn it into a school for the Dark Arts! Losing points doesn’t matter anymore, can’t you see?’ (PS, 196-97) In The Chamber of Secrets, Harry and Ron locate the entrance to the chamber and, after he opens it uttering words in Parseltongue, realizing that Professor Lockhart would be of no help with the basilisk, Harry makes up his mind in just a few seconds, knowing that saving Ginny—if he can—is the right thing to do: “He had made up his mind what he was going to do. ‘I’m going down there,’ he said” (CoS 222). After the adventure is over and Ginny is safe and sound back with her parents, and Lucius Malfoy arrives at Hogwarts, Harry decides in a split second what to do—he is determined to free Dobby the house-elf from the bond of slavery because he knows it to be the right action: Harry stood for a moment, thinking hard. Then it came to him. ‘Professor Dumbledore,’ he said hurriedly, ‘can I give that diary back to Mr Malfoy, please?’ … Harry grabbed the diary and dashed out of the office. … Quickly, … Harry took off one his shoes, pulled off his slimy, filthy sock, and stuffed the diary into it. … Mr Malfoy ripped the sock off the diary, threw it aside, then looked furiously from the ruined book to Harry. … Dobby didn’t move. He was holding up Harry’s disgusting, slimy sock, and looking at it as though it were a priceless treasure. ‘Master gave Dobby a sock’ … ‘Dobby is free.’ (CoS 248) In The Prisoner of Azkaban, Harry allows Peter Pettigrew to live. Despite Harry’s feelings of animosity, he considers this to be the moral choice, although the adults present, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, were inclined to end matters once and for all with their old school friend: ‘Harry, this piece of vermin is the reason you have no parents,’ Black snarled. … ‘I know,’ Harry panted. ‘We’ll take him up to the castle. We’ll hand him over to the Dementors. He can go to Azkaban…just don’t kill him.’ … ‘I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it because I don’t reckon my dad would’ve wanted his best friends to become killers—just for you.’(PoA, 275) In the same novel, Harry and Hermione together, by employing a Time Turner, go back in time to save Buckbeak from death and Sirius Black from a fate worse than death, the kiss of the Dementors, because they know Buckbeak as well as Sirius to be innocent. They are aware that it would be immoral for Sirius to pay for the crimes committed by Peter Pettigrew. In all of these occasions, choosing a different path to act would have been much easier; however, Harry and his friends do not base actions on what is straightforward and undemanding psychologically or physically. Harry chooses to act in a moral way after giving due consideration to the options presented to him, knowing each time that the path he chooses is more difficult and, perhaps, more dangerous. He acts as his character demands. In the fourth novel, Harry tells Cedric Diggory that the first task of the Triwizard Tournament consists of fighting dragons since it would have been unfair if Diggory alone, among all the competitors, had not been aware of it. In the third task Harry decides to share the glory of having attained the Triwizard Cup in the maze since both he and Cedric reached it at the same time. Harry considers it only fair for them to share a victory to which they only arrived by helping each other. In the Goblet of Fire, during the second task of the Triwizard Tournament, Harry refuses to leave the other hostages under water because he believes they will die, owing to the only information he has: An hour long you’ll have to look, And to recover what we took But past an hour—the prospect’s black Too late, it’s gone, it won’t come back. (GoF, 402) This is the reason why, despite being first at the side of the captives, he awaits the arrival of the other competitors before saving his captive. While waiting, both Cedric and Krum surpass him in the task. Harry even helps Krum untie Hermione, so that she would not get hurt in the process; owing to the fact that Krum’s partial Transfiguration into a shark was inappropriate for untying a rope (434). When Fleur does not show up, he saves her sister as well, thus showing “moral fibre” according to the judges (440). In The Order of the Phoenix, Harry saves his cousin Dudley from the Dementors, not because Dudley is dear to Harry’s heart, or even likable, but because Harry knows what the Dementors can do to a person from first hand experience. He knows that, being able to do something about it and not doing it, would be immoral. Thus he acts on his knowledge and uses magic outside of school, although this use contravenes the rules of his school and the laws of the wizarding community. He puts himself in danger of being expelled since for him doing the morally right thing holds a higher value. A few chapters later, Harry is well aware of the general situation in the wizarding community, but he also knows the right thing to do: he knows that Voldemort is indeed alive and has returned and feels he should inform the public of it. The first instance of his telling the truth occurs in Dolores Umbridge’s class, which results in a week-long detention, writing lines with his own blood. Later he gives an interview to Rita Skeeter for The Quibbler regarding what took place after he and Cedric Diggory were transported by the Triwizard-Cup-turned-portkey to the cemetery where Lord Voldermort’s father was buried. Dolores Umbridge’s decision to ban The Quibbler from Hogwarts owing to Skeeter’s interview ensured the success of Harry’s enterprise: prohibition was the best insurance that everyone would read the article. Thus, a much greater number of people believed Harry (and Dumbledore), in effect undermining Umbridge’s authority as High Inquisitor of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Another issue worth discussing is that each of the four founders of Hogwarts valued different virtues. The Sorting Hat songs constitute the source used to determine the virtues preferred by the four founders. Gryffindor preferred those characterised by courage: You might belong in Gryffindor, Where dwell the brave at heart, Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart. (PS, 88) By Gryffindor, the bravest were Prized far beyond the rest. (GoF, 157) Said Gryffindor, ‘We’ll teach all those With brave deeds to their name.’ (OotP, 185) Hufflepuff favoured industrious and loyal students: You might belong in Hufflepuff, Where they are just and loyal, Those patient Hufflepuffs are true And unafraid of toil. (PS, 88) For Hufflepuff, hard workers were Most worthy of admission. (GoF, 157) Said Hufflepuff, ‘I’ll teach the lot And treat them just the same.’ (OotP, 185) Ravenclaw chose the intelligent students to teach: Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, If you’ve a ready mind, Where those of wit and learning, Will always find their kind. (PS, 88) For Ravenclaw, the cleverest would always be the best. (GoF, 157) Said Ravenclaw, ‘We’ll teach those whose Intelligence is surest.’ (OotP, 185) Slytherin selected for his students the ambitious: Or perhaps in Slytherin You’ll make your real friends, Those cunning folks use any means To achieve their ends. (PS, 88) And power-hungry Slytherin Loved those of great ambition. (GoF, 157) Said Slytherin, ‘We’ll teach just those Whose ancestry'’s purest.’ (OotP, 185) The sorting ceremony is particularly relevant for Harry’s character. On hearing about the sorting ceremony, he fears the idea of a test before the entire school. However, within moments he realises there are other things he fears worse, such as not being picked, as used to happen in sports classes at his old school, where other children feared his bullying cousin, Dudley (PS, 89): “A horrible thought struck Harry, as horrible thoughts always do when you’re very nervous. What if he wasn’t chosen at all?” (90). When it was finally his turn Harry didn’t feel brave or quick-witted or any of it at the moment. If only the hat had mentioned a house for people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for him. (89) The Sorting Hat, while perceiving all of Harry’s qualities and defects, had a difficult time deciding where Harry should go, not because, as Harry feared, he did not have any of the qualities required, but because, in fact, he had too many of them. In the Sorting Hat’s words: ‘Hmm,’ said a small voice in his ear. ‘Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. There’s talent, oh my goodness, yes—and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that’s interesting… So where shall I put you?’ (90) Thus, Harry is brave, intelligent, and ambitious all at the same time. Consequently, the only house for which the Sorting Hat does not seem to consider him for is Hufflepuff, since he does not appear to be particularly industrious. On considering the hat’s song and the qualities it enumerates, Harry realises the houses to which he might be assigned are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. No longer afraid of not being chosen, he understands that presented with these choices he can only choose negatively. He knows for sure in which of the houses he would rather not be cast. He does not want to belong to the house that has shaped Voldemort, the murderer of his parents. Hagrid had informed him that “‘There’s not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn’t in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one’” (PS, 61-62). Fearing that his grimmest thoughts would come true, Harry prays that Slytherin will not be the house in which he is sorted, and the Sorting Hat takes his thoughts and desires into account: ‘Not Slytherin, eh?’ said the small voice. ‘Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it’s all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that—no? Well, if you’re sure—better be GRYFFINDOR!’(91) The Sorting Hat takes into account Harry’s deliberate and informed choice not to be sorted into Slytherin. Harry’s choice can be deemed informed, not in the sense that he knew much about the school houses, but that he knew he would not want to be associated with anyone like Voldemort. At this point Harry makes the essential choice: he dissociates himself from the de-centred morality of the Slytherins, cunning individuals willing to use any means necessary to attain their goals, advance their ambitions and seek power. He chooses to distance himself from a group of people unhindered by morals, choosing a life of morality and virtue. Harry’s choice is accounted for in the theory of moral sentiments of Adam Smith (2004): Nature, when she formed man for society, endowed him with an original desire to please, and an original aversion to offend his brethren. She taught him to feel pleasure in their favourable, and pain in their unfavourable regard. She rendered their approbation most flattering and most agreeable to him for its own sake; and their disapprobation most mortifying and most offensive. (135) In other words, humans require the approval of their peers, but most of all they require self-approval: to be despised, while painful, is not as loathsome as being despicable. Humans feel pleasure even more when they know they deserve praise and approval. The behavioural economist Dan Ariely (2008), following Freud’s example, posits that in everyday life the superego controls our compliance with society’s rules (135). In his talk at the TED annual conference, he describes experiments on honesty and cheating he undertook using groups of students (2009). One of the conclusions he reaches is that when cheating occurs within one’s in-group, it is deemed more acceptable, and cheating in that group increases since it seems appropriate to act in the same way as those with whom we associate. If, however, the cheating occurs in another group, we do not want to be associated with those shameful acts; therefore, we reject both that reprehensible behaviour and the group perpetrating it (2009). In light of Ariely’s conclusion, it is understandable that Harry would not want to be associated with the reprehensible Voldemort, and why he strives to be different. This is the intrinsic reason behind Harry’s rejecting Slytherin and why he endeavours to prove to his fellow students that he is not the heir of Slytherin in the second book of the series. Returning to the moral choices of the Harry Potter novels, the first moral choice to mark Harry’s life—literally and figuratively—was not his own; it was a deliberate choice made by his mother, Lily, to stand between Lord Voldermort and the infant Harry. Her love for her son marked him with love and protected him for a long time (until his coming of age) through the power of an ancient magic, love, which Voldermort disregards. Another choice—not moral this time, and still not his own—that determines Harry’s success in the duels with Voldemort, is the choice made by the wand in Ollivander’s shop to give its allegiance to Harry. Harry seems to be a difficult customer who manages to puzzle Mr Ollivander who in the end offers him the twin of Voldemort’s 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. (PS, 65) While deploring Voldemort’s use of power, Ollivander considers that the Dark Lord has achieved greatness and now expects great things of Harry. In The Chamber of Secrets, Harry observes a number of similarities between himself and Lord Voldemort. He thus questions the Sorting Hat when opportunity arises regarding its original intention to put him in Slytherin. The fact that Harry can speak Parseltongue and that the Sorting Hat is unwavering in its conviction that Harry would have done well in Slytherin are not of great help. When his schoolmates find out he can speak to snakes, he is eyed suspiciously, especially by Muggle-borns and those of mixed heritage. His friends explain to him the implications of this unusual discovery: ‘I’m a what?’ said Harry. ‘A Parselmouth!’ said Ron ‘You can talk to snakes!’ … ‘being able to talk to snakes was what Salazar Slytherin was famous for. That’s why the symbol of Slytherin house is a serpent’ (CoS, 146-47) adds Hermione, enhancing Harry’s worries. Harry’s doubts and fears surface in his mind immediately after this discussion: ‘But I’m in Gryffindor,’ Harry thought. ‘The Sorting Hat wouldn’t have put me in here if I had Slytherin blood…’ ‘Ah,’ said a nasty little voice in his brain, ‘But the Sorting Hat wanted to put you in Slytherin, don’t you remember?’ (147) These doubts and fears consume Harry until at the end of the novel he acknowledges them to Dumbledore. ‘[The Sorting Hat] only put me in Gryffindor,’ said Harry in a defeated voice, ‘because I asked not to go in Slytherin . …’ ‘Exactly,’ said Dumbledore, beaming once more. ‘Which makes you very different from Tom Riddle. It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.’ (245) The virtuous choices Harry continually makes are a world apart from the reprehensible crimes and the murders committed by Voldemort. Even when Quirrell tempts Harry in The Philosopher’s Stone and when Voldemort enters Harry’s mind at the Ministry of Magic in The Order of the Phoenix, Harry shows absolutely no interest in the type of power the Dark Lord epitomises. In The Half-Blood Prince, Dumbledore attempts to make Harry understand just how unique he is: ‘Despite your privileged insight into Voldemort’s world …, you have never been seduced by the Dark Arts, never, even for a second, shown the slightest desire to become one of Voldemort’s followers!’ ‘You are protected, in short, by your ability to love!’ said Dumbledore loudly. ‘The only protection that can possibly work against the lure of power like Voldemort’s!’(HBP, 477) Plato (1997) illustrates the importance of moral choice in The Republic in Book Two through the story of the Ring of Gyges which can be conceived of as an early thought experiment. This ring conferred the power of invisibility on the wearer, eliminating the social constraints on his actions. If no one is able to see a person do wrong, self-interest prevails. Gyges seduces the queen, and with her help murders the king, taking his place (40). Glaucon, recounting the story of Gyges, posits that if both a just and an unjust man would have such rings, they would not be shielded from temptation and would not abstain from acting immorally. J.K. Rowling uses a similar device, the invisibility cloak, as an instrument to illustrate Harry’s character. The invisibility cloak, used for concealment, enables Harry to break school rules. How the cloak is employed indicates Harry’s preference for moral behaviour since most of the times he uses the cloak for actions that ultimately help him to solve puzzles and to thwart Voldemort. In several of the books Harry employs the cloak for going to the library or to Hagrid’s hut for information or for offering or requesting help. In the fourth volume, he uses it to go to various empty classrooms to prepare for the first task of the Triwizard Tournament and to the prefect’s bathroom to solve the egg clue for the second task. In the fifth book, the cloak is employed to enter Umbridge’s office and use the fire to communicate with Sirius. In the sixth, Harry employs the cloak to travel with Dumbledore, unseen by others, to talk to Slughorn in order to obtain information about horcruxes and about Voldemort, and to follow Draco Malfoy. In the final instalment of the series, the cloak is used to gather information, to stay safe and clear of Death Eaters, to supply food, to visit Godric’s Hollow and the Lovegoods, to enter Gringotts bank and Hogwarts undetected, and to retrieve the two horcruxes hidden there. In all these instances, while breaking the school rules, Harry does not really commit morally questionable acts. His reason for using the invisibility cloak is to achieve the greater good. The only instance when Harry uses the invisibility cloak for self-interest is in The Prisoner of Azkaban, when he desperately wants to go to Hogsmeade with the rest of his classmates. However, in this novel, the cloak is employed together with another magical object to create mischief: the Marauder’s Map. It seems that the cloak on its own is not sufficient to tempt Harry into immoral behaviour. When Harry first considers going to Hogsmeade using the invisibility cloak, Ron acts as the Harry’s id, urging him to seek immediate enjoyment. On the other hand, Hermione, much like the superego, criticises Harry for thinking only of his enjoyment and not of the dangers involved, acting as his conscience. Harry, the ego, acts according to the mean of self-interest when his two friends are advising him. Once Hermione becomes estranged from the two boys, because she informs McGonagall about the Firebolt that Harry receives for Christmas and because of Crookshank’s attacks on Scabbers, Harry endorses Ron’s side of the argument and recklessly indulges in visits to Hogsmeade. The three-layered structure of the psychic apparatus hypothesised by Freud corresponds roughly to the three parts of the soul Plato expounds in The Republic: an appetitive part, a passionate part, and a rational part. All three parts of the soul have to work together to reach psychic harmony and full potential. Plato (1997) explains his theory in the following words: During the slumbers of that other part of the soul, which is rational and tamed and master of the former, the wild animal part, sated with meat or drink, becomes rampant, and pushing sleep away endeavours to set out after the gratification of its own proper character. (293) In the Phaedrus, the tripartite structure of the soul is depicted through the chariot allegory. The charioteer symbolises the rational part, the white horse embodies the spirited part and the black horse epitomises the appetitive part: [There is] the threefold division of the soul … with each and every soul consisting of two horse-like aspects and a third like a charioteer … . One of the horses was good and the other bad. (Plato 2002, 38) In the Phaedrus, Plato discusses the ideal soul, keeping the three parts in balance, as the soul of the gods. Humans can rarely attain this state, unless they restrain their appetites and worldly ambitions, and subject them to the authority of reason: The gods’ chariots make light of the journey, since they are well balanced and easy to handle, but the other chariots find it hard, because the troublesome horse weighs them down. (29) Seen either as a psychic apparatus or the chariot allegory, Harry’s relationship with his two best friends is essential for his moral growth. Whenever Harry is about to do something reckless or embark upon some adventure, they point out the extremes, thus allowing him to deliberate and make an informed decision. They help Harry make the virtuous, rational choice (prohairesis) and encourage him to avoid extremes. As moral action for Aristotle must be chosen for its own sake, it also must be informed and voluntary, considering both the pleasures and pains it might involve. Thus, in an Aristotelian vein, virtuous character balances out the pains and pleasures, constrains us from choosing immoral actions to gratify our pleasures and spurs us to act nobly disregarding pains. When one of his friends is not present by his side, Harry tends to favour either the appetitive—as when Ron is around, in The Prisoner of Azkaban—or the rational, when Hermione is around—as in The Goblet of Fire (less so in The Deathly Hallows). By the time he starts his fifth year at Hogwarts, Harry has managed to internalise his friends’ judgements, yet he is not always constant in the way he acts. For instance, when Dobby tells him of the Room of Requirement as a possible headquarters for Dumbledore’s Army, Harry is initially ready to follow him at that very moment. Nevertheless, he chooses not to: For a moment Harry was tempted to go now; he was halfway out of his seat, intending to hurry upstairs for his Invisibility Cloak when, not for the first time, a voice very much like Hermione’s whispered in his ear: reckless. ( OotP, 387) Outstanding Courage As Harry is a Gryffindor, whose most salient virtue is courage, this becomes a prominent virtue in whose absence other virtues could not be expanded. In Aristotelian philosophy, courage stands between rashness and cowardice as a mean between the two vices which represent excess and deficiency correspondingly. Courage is not fearlessness; rather, it is confidence in confronting fear, as well as a question of pain and pleasure, with an emphasis on choice: In fear and confidence, courage is the mean. Of those who exceed it, the person who exceeds in fearlessness has no name (many cases lack names), while the one who exceeds in confidence is rash. He who exceeds in being afraid and is deficient in confidence is a coward. (Aristotle 2004, 32) At the same time, Aristotle posits that people do not follow the path of virtue because of their pleasure in acting wrongly. People do not consider immoral actions as pleasant, but may act immorally if the outcome pleases them, thus being guided by their own self-interest. Confronting fear in dangerous situations is painful, not only physically, but also psychologically. Because humans detest pain, they try to avoid it whenever possible, at times avoiding moral actions because they would likely involve pain or sacrifice. The choice of the courageous is often to see courage as an end in itself. Harry’s choices to act in morally correct ways illustrate his desire to regard himself as agreeable to himself, while viewing Voldermort as mortifying, illuminates his character. In his endeavour to be a good person, Harry rejects his fear whenever he knows that the action to be undertaken affects the greater good. By rejecting fear, and acting in the morally right way, Harry proves his moral bravery and physical valour. According to Tom Morris, Courage is doing what’s right, not what’s easy. It’s doing what seems morally required, rather than what seems physically safe or socially expected. … A courageous person properly perceives danger when there is danger and then overcomes the natural urge for self-preservation. (Morris 2006, 30) An instance of Harry’s courage occurs during the second task of the Triwizard Tournament, when he saves Ron and Fleur’s sister. He does what is right and morally required, not physically safe (time underwater is limited) or socially expected (he had to save his own hostage, and hurry to the surface) thus overcoming his natural urge for self-preservation (merpeople try to hinder him). In the earlier novels, Harry had saved Sirius Black from a fate worse than death, the kiss of the Dementors; Ginny Weasley from the Basilisk; and the Philosopher’s Stone from Quirrell. He fended off Voldemort in books I, II, IV, V and VII, fought Death Eaters and other dangerous creatures such as the basilisk, acromantulas, Dementors and dragons. Harry’s authentic courage comes from his valuing of other people’s lives even beyond his own; he feels strongly about his friends; he truly appreciates freedom, and seems to possess an inner compass pointing to justice. Thus, Harry’s behaviour espouses courage in the terms set forth by Tom Morris: Courage is a fundamental virtue, or strength, without which none of the other classic moral virtues could be exhibited properly in any circumstances of perceived personal risk. … Courage is a necessary condition for consistently living any of the other virtues and for genuinely embracing any positive values that reach beyond the narrowest forms of self-interest. (Morris 2006, 33) The best episode to describe Harry’s courage as defined by Morris is at the end of The Deathly Hallows, when Harry chooses to risk his life to save everyone else from Voldemort, acting as his mother had. According to Morris, the courageous person recognises danger and suppresses the instinct to turn around and run. Harry makes no such mistake. He understands what he is about to undertake: He felt his heart pounding fiercely in his chest. How strange that in his dread of death, it pumped all the harder, valiantly keeping him alive. But it would have to stop soon. Its beats were numbered. … Terror washed over him. … Would it hurt to die? … His will to live had always been so much stronger than his fear of death . … If he could have launched himself in front of a wand to save someone he loved… He envied even his parents’ deaths now. This cold-blooded walk to his own destruction would require a different kind of bravery. … He felt more alive, and more aware of his own living body than ever before. Why had he never appreciated what a miracle he was, brain and nerve and bounding heart? It would all be gone…or at least, he would be gone from it. (DH, 554-55) Harry feels fear and terror but he is able to overcome them, what is harder to conquer is his will to live. While thinking of death he understands that the type of courage needed under these circumstances is very different from the courage he has displayed so many times before. In previous circumstances, Harry’s mind worked feverishly to save himself, to extricate himself from trouble and danger and to protect himself from death, whereas in this case, he has to move past his desire to live, and the urge for self-preservation that comes so naturally to all living beings. He has to will himself to die by willing himself not to react. This is why, on coming face to face with Voldemort, he does not even draw his wand. He simply stands within a circle of Death Eaters awaiting the final blow. Courage according to Morris’s definition depends not on what society expects or what is physically safe but what is morally required. Nobody, except perhaps Dumbledore and Snape who happen to be dead, expects Harry to sacrifice himself. He is merely a child, even if in the wizarding world he has come of age. He is not expected to save the world outright, and yet, since he is the only one to have survived Lord Voldermort in the past—even if only by a fluke of luck and through Voldemort’s incapacity or unwillingness to recognise the power of love—he may be regarded, apart from Dumbledore, as the only one who can stand up to the Dark Lord. Not a single, normally brave, adult wizard in the Order of the Phoenix, would consider a “private” encounter with Lord Voldermort as safe, especially for Harry, Voldemort’s arch-enemy, the Boy Who Lived, the reason why Voldemort bodily disappeared, affording the wizarding world a brief respite. Harry’s understanding of his actions in this extreme situation—not as socially expected or physically safe, but as morally required—is shown by the fact that he refuses to see his friends one last time. This would mean saying his goodbyes and explaining things that others might find hard to grasp, leading them to try and stop him. But he must not be stopped, as his sacrifice was the only thing that could prevent Voldemort from winning (DH, 556). While walking to his death, Harry realises that “Dumbledore had known that Harry would not duck out, that he would keep going to the end, even though it was his end” (DH, 555). Harry perceives fear so strongly when he walks toward his death that “his heart was leaping against his ribs like a frantic bird. Perhaps it knew it has little time left”(DH, 556). He no longer feels part of the world of the living, showing that his resolution to allow Voldermort to kill him and destroy the Horcrux latched to himself has been a deliberate one, well-thought out in advance, and unfaltering in character. At this time, he remembers the Snitch and its shibboleth “I open at the close” (DH, 559), finally solving the puzzle of the Resurrection Stone, bringing back the ones dear to his heart so that they may fetch him to the land of death and keep him company as each excruciating step takes him closer to non-being. Thus, James, Sirius, Lupin and Lily, walking by his side, act as Patronuses. “Their presence was his courage, and the reason he was able to keep putting one foot in front of the other” (DH, 561). Psychologically, Harry feels more and more remote from his body, since he knows that it will no longer belong to him in a short while: His body and mind felt oddly disconnected now, his limbs working without conscious instruction, as if he were a passenger, not driver, in the body he was about to leave. The dead who walked beside him through the Forest were much more real to him now than the living back at the castle: Ron, Hermione, Ginny and all the others were the ones who felt like ghosts as he stumbled and slipped towards the end of his life, towards Voldemort… . (DH, 561-62) We may thus conclude that Harry’s bravery is far from being fearlessness, and that it most intimately resembles an unwavering mastery of his fear, and unwillingness to bow down before what he considers morally reprehensible. From the very first volume of the series, Dumbledore sanctions this virtuous and courageous behaviour by not punishing Harry for the “about a hundred school rules broken” in the process of solving the mystery of the Philosopher’s Stone. Beyond even Harry’s wildest expectations, Dumbledore not only refrains from handing out punishment, but also rewards Harry with sixty house points. At this point, Dumbledore endorses Harry’s physical courage in the face of adversity; after all, he himself had been a Gryffindor. He also mentions and rewards Neville’s moral courage: ‘Third -- to Mr. Harry Potter...’ said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet. ‘…for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points.’ … ‘There are all kinds of courage,’ said Dumbledore, smiling. ‘It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom.’ (PS, 221) Daniel Putnam (1997) postulates in his article Psychological Courage that moral bravery and physical courage are not the only types of bravery known to humankind. While physical courage represents a surpassing of a fear of physical harm and of death, moral courage represents “fearlessness in defending a deeply held greater moral good against society” (1). In Peterson and Seligman (2004), physical bravery, characterised by apprehension of bodily injury or death, is exemplified by valour on the battlefield in the tradition of Plato’s Republic; however, the two authors also mention such things as the fear of physical harm in sport (216). In their view, fear of shame can also prompt courage. Fear of shame compels someone to act in accordance with what he/she believes to be right. Moral and physical courage can be distinguished by duration, since physical valour is usually of short duration whereas moral courage endures in the face of adversity. Physical courage in the Harry Potter novels is most often embodied by the protagonist; however, Hermione and Ron are close seconds, although they are not afforded the opportunity to duel with Voldemort. Moral courage is shared equally between Hermione and Harry. Hermione creates SPEW to promote the rights and welfare of house-elves which is equivalent to Harry’s standing up to the authority of Dolores Umbridge. Hermione labours tirelessly for the liberation of house-elves: she knits little caps and socks for them and tries to campaign on their behalf among her fellow students, without great avail. Yet she creates this society that tries to promote their well-being and to secure for them fair wages and working conditions: ‘It’s S–P–E–W. Stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. … I was going to put [on the badges] Stop the Outrageous Abuse of Our Fellow Magical Creatures and Campaign for a Change in Their Legal Status—but it wouldn’t fit.’ (GoF, 198) Hermione exhibits moral courage as she advocates a position unpopular among her peers. She even confronts Ron when he jokes about the amount of homework, “‘How dare you!’ said Ron, in mock outrage. ‘We’ve been working like house-elves here!’”, since she finds his outburst inappropriate. Ron’s moral courage is illustrated in book two when Malfoy calls Hermione a Mudblood; “Ron plunged his hand into his robes, pulled out his wand, yelling, ‘You’ll pay for that one, Malfoy!’” (CoS, 87). Ron’s reaction demonstrates his willingness to defend his friend in light of the insulting words uttered by Malfoy. This new type of psychological bravery hypothesised by Putnam deals with overcoming fear around a loss of psychological stability … [it is] the courage it takes to face our irrational fears and anxieties those passions which, in Spinoza’s terms, hold us in bondage. These can range from habits and compulsions to phobias. (Putnam 1997, 2) Indeed, this type of bravery, while eschewing shame, does not escape pain and fear. Psychological courage in overcoming one’s fears, phobias and anxieties is depicted through Ron and Harry. Ron has to overcome his arachnophobia when he and Harry go to see Aragog, the acromantula, by following the spiders into the Forbidden Forest: “’OK,’ Ron sighed, as though resigned to the worst, ‘I’m ready. Let’s go’” (CoS, 202). What they find in the forest horrifies Ron beyond any ability to speak Spiders. Not tiny spiders like those surging over the leaves below. Spiders the size of carthorses, eight-eyed, eight-legged, black, hairy, gigantic. … Ron looked exactly like Harry felt. His mouth was stretched wide in a kind of silent scream and his eyes were popping. (CoS, 204-05) While agreeing to go along in this adventure, which symbolises Ron’s willingness to overcome his phobia, he freezes the moment when he perceives the object of fear remaining unable to speak well after the Weasleys’ Ford Anglia rescues them from what seemed a desperate situation. Another instance of Ron’s psychological courage occurs in the last volume when he rescues Harry from drowning in the pond containing Gryffindor’s sword. At this point Ron has to confront his anxieties over what he considers to be his mother’s lack of love for him because he was yet another boy born to her when she had hoped for a girl. He also has to overcome his fear regarding Hermione’s supposed preference of Harry. Ron’s confrontation with his deepest fears is brought about by the locket Horcrux Ron is supposed to destroy with Gryffindor’s sword. Ultimately Ron is able to surpass his insecurity and destroy the locket which speaks to him alluringly: ‘I have seen your heart, and it is mine. … I have seen your dreams, Ronald Weasley, and I have seen your fears. … Least loved, always, by a mother who craved a daughter…least loved, now, by the girl who prefers your friend…second best, always, eternally overshadowed.’ (DH, 306) Harry’s psychological courage is exemplified first by Harry’s fear of being like Voldemort, and secondly by his fear of the Dementors. The first instance was mentioned earlier in relation to Harry’s deliberate choices. This fear Harry feels regarding the likenesses between himself and Voldemort is unuttered for most of the second book in the series—Ron and Hermione are not informed of these feelings that scare Harry so intensely. The reader is aware of them however, since we are party to Harry’s thoughts as well as to the action of the novel, whenever Rowling considers them to be relevant. Finally, once the Basilisk is killed and Riddle’s diary destroyed, after Harry has met the young Dark Lord and heard the sixteen-year-old Lord Voldemort expound the similarities between the two of them—both half-bloods, both orphans, raised by Muggles, both Parselmouths—he voices his fears. Dumbledore is the best person to listen to him in this case: Suddenly, something that was nagging at Harry came tumbling out of his mouth. ‘Professor Dumbledore ... Riddle said I’m like him. Strange likenesses, he said …’ … ‘I don’t think I’m like him!’ said Harry, more loudly than he’d intended. ‘I mean, I’m—I’m in Gryffindor, I’m …’ But he fell silent, a lurking doubt resurfacing in his mind. ‘’ Voldemort put a bit of himself in me?’ Harry said, thunderstruck. ‘So I should be in Slytherin,’ Harry said looking desperately into Dumbledore’s face. ‘’It only put me in Gryffindor,’ said Harry in a defeated voice, ‘because I asked not to go in Slytherin.’ (CoS, 244-245; my emphasis). Harry’s doubts and fears finally surface in this conversation; he acts defensively since he is afraid that they might be true. The apparent conclusion Harry reaches, with all of Dumbledore’s reassurances, is that, indeed, his place was in Slytherin, and Gryffindor, while being his choice, is not where he belongs. Dumbledore correctly perceives that Harry is doubtful of his rightful place, and Rowling makes sure that the reader knows why that is too, through the adverbs she uses in relation to Harry’s attitude and facial expressions: looking desperately, thunderstruck, in a defeated voice, dully. This insecurity holds true, until Dumbledore shows him that the sword he was able to take out of the Sorting Hat was Gryffindor’s own and then explains that only a Gryffindor would have been able to win the sword’s allegiance: ‘If you want proof, Harry, that you belong in Gryffindor, I suggest you look more closely at this.’… Dully, Harry turned it over, the rubies blazing in the firelight. And then he saw the name engraved just below the hilt. Godric Gryffindor. ’Only a true Gryffindor could have pulled that out of the hat, Harry,’ said Dumbledore simply. (CoS, 245; my emphasis) The second instance in which Harry confronts his fears is found in The Prisoner of Azkaban when he is set against the Dementors, the guards of Azkaban—creatures who suck all the happiness out of people and who feed on despair. During Remus Lupin’s Defence Against the Dark Arts class, the students are supposed to confront their worst fears when dealing with a Boggart. Professor Lupin does not allow Harry to take on the Boggart, believing that it would assume the form of Lord Voldemort. When Harry informs him that even though he had initially thought of Voldemort, he reconsidered and felt he feared the Dementors more, Lupin points out: “‘Well, well… I’m impressed.’… ‘That suggests that what you fear most of all is fear. Very wise, Harry.’” (CoS, 245) At Harry’s request, Lupin agrees to teach him the Patronus Charm, which, when used properly, would keep the Dementors at bay. The first few attempts, hardly successful, do not discourage Harry, who perseveres and is able to produce a Patronus: “a huge, silver shadow came bursting out of the end of Harry’s wand, to hover between him and the Dementor” (PoA, 179). It is not until Harry trusts himself that he can drive away a hoard of Dementors with a true Patronus. This happens once he returns in time and realises that he can save his future self, Sirius, and Hermione from the Dementors: And then it hit him—he understood. He hadn’t seen his father—he had seen himself—… out of the end of his wand burst, not a shapeless cloud of mist, but a blinding, dazzling, silver animal. … It wasn’t a horse. It wasn’t a unicorn, either. It was a stag. (PoA, 179) True Friendship as Collaborative Effort Another pertinent concept deserving attention in the Harry Potter novels is friendship, since without it nothing would be accomplished. Aristotle (2004) divides relationships between individuals into three types: the first is friendship founded on utility; the second is friendship based on pleasure; and the third type, true friendship, is founded on goodness, where the friends admire each other for this quality. Even in the case of relationships, Aristotle applies his golden rule, that of the mean. People who expect pleasure and those who expect benefits from their “friends” are at two poles; the true friendship of virtuous people is between these extremes. The best of friendships are based on the virtuous characters of the parties: Complete friendship is that of good people, those who are alike in their virtue: they each alike wish good things to each other in so far as they are good, and they are good in themselves. (Aristotle 2004, 147) Harry, Ron and Hermione’s friendship is of this precious type. They appreciate in each other the willingness to put themselves in danger for the sake of their peers. In fact, their friendship began because of such an incident: Ron and Harry rescued Hermione from a mountain troll set loose in the Hogwarts castle by Quirrell. Their readiness to help others, their outspoken sense of justice, their bravery, and resourcefulness are traits that make them both virtuous, and similar. This friendship is indeed of the “complete” type and it is very important for the plot of the novels as well as the children’s moral development, since “everything Harry is able to accomplish is rooted in the collaborative efforts of many” (Morris 2005, 16). From Aristotle’s viewpoint, friendship between young people is a means of keeping them from making mistakes; in the old, for helping them finish jobs they cannot do on their own; and in those in their prime, in assisting them to do noble deeds, since with friends by one’s side, the reasoning process as well as the exploits one undertakes become effortless (Aristotle 2004, 143). Aristotle’s description underlines the friendship between Harry, Ron, and Hermione, since they keep each other from making mistakes, help each other out to finalise assignments or undertakings and finally support each other through action and in discussions that analyse issues and lead to correct and virtuous decision-making. The three children constantly collaborate and hold each other in high esteem for their respective strengths. This constant interaction and peer collaboration is just what Piaget (1965) advises as the best avenue to achieve genuine morality. In Piaget’s view, it is not the parents or other adults in the children’s life who advance the child’s moral development. What parents and teachers need to encourage are the norms of co-operation and mutual respect developed in a context of social equality. Moral Development as a Paradigm for the Muggle World Dumbledore’s experiential and choice-making teaching methodology promotes courage, friendship and reason. He does not constantly punish wrongdoing, such as breaking school rules, since he understands the reasoning behind disregarding them: “Dumbledore entertains a deep conviction about the value of traditional liberal virtues but recognises that some conflicts are irreconcilable” (Nexon and Neumann 2006, 203). He tries to teach students virtue and choosing right over wrong not by accepting others’ views and arguments but by thinking for themselves and making individual choices. The choices Dumbledore encourages are well-balanced, rational and made in a deliberate manner after due consideration, in other words, in accordance with Aristotle’s concept prohairesis. The importance of choice is pointed out in Dumbledore’s end-of-year conversation with Harry in the second volume: “It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities” (CoS, 245). Ethical behaviour through individual choices in adverse circumstances is what characterises Harry. According to Tom Morris, ethics and law though not the same, do overlap, and the difference between the two can be illustrated by ethical people feeling morally compelled to disobey unjust laws (Morris 2006, 65). Dumbledore does not cultivate the rules as much as the values that inform the rules. He cultivates in each student the spirit of the law, even if this means that the letter of the law sometimes must be broken. (Nexon and Neumann 2006, 203) If rules or laws are unjust, they need not be obeyed by persons with strong concerns for ethics and morality, as they could try changing them instead. Perhaps there is a lesson here to be learned for our own world. The accusation of moral relativism brought against the Harry Potter series by its critics due to the ambivalent nature of good and evil characters and the occasional breaking of rules and laws is better cast by Tom Morris as moral realism. He argues that good and evil persons in real life are never absolutely so: “No realistic depiction of good and evil in the world involves the caricature of deifying the good and absolutely vilifying and demonising the bad” (Morris 2006, 73). The fact is that the more realistically good and evil are portrayed, the better they are perceived later by children in the real world, once they have internalised the concepts present in this series of novels. Jack Zipes (2002), a scholar of children’s literature and fairy tales, does not consider the books immoral, rather that they are moralistic and didactic and advocate against the evil use of magic (174). Bruno Bettelheim (1989) posits that children need “a moral education which subtly, by implication only, conveys to [them] the advantages of moral behavior, not through abstract ethical concepts” (5). He discusses fairy tales as a source for this subtle education, but the same is true for these novels, as the moral code of the books is not overt but may be extracted from the characters’ patterns of behaviour. This method of transmitting moral behaviour and ethics might have been what Plato (1997) had in mind when suggesting that the citizens of his ideal republic began their education with myths (61-63). The distinction between good and evil is salient in the inner lives of children, and, as Vigen Guroian (1998) claims, “children need guidance and moral road maps and they benefit immensely from the example of adults who speak truthfully and act from moral strength” (3), thus the model of the hero is relevant. Bettelheim considers that tales promote morality not because of the final defeat of evil and victory of virtue and good, but because the child requires a role model in life and thus he/she identifies with the hero of the story. The hero of stories based on a good versus evil paradigm “is most attractive to the child, who identifies with the hero in all his struggles” and these identifications are entirely the work of the child, with the result that “the inner and outer struggles of the hero imprint morality on him” (Bettelheim 1989, 9). In making Harry Potter a role model, an important element was setting the story in a boarding school because life in such a place sets Harry apart. It isolates him, while offering him the possibility of growing up without adult interference. Children tend to see themselves apart from the adults in their lives, and observing the model of Harry Potter embodying qualities such as courage, friendship, solidarity, constancy, resolution, self-discipline, and reason, he becomes quintessentially an ideal. The triumph of good over evil is not as relevant in the Harry Potter novels as the decision-making processes, the self-disciplining, the friendship and courage behind all the adventures narrated by J.K. Rowling. Harry, Ron and Hermione live in a fictional world in which good and evil are portrayed quite realistically, since no good character is completely good and flawless, while in most of the evil characters some sort of human sentiment is present to some extent. The three friends evolve into grown-ups worthy of admiration without adult interference; nevertheless they do have adult role models who exude moral strength through their conduct. Through these role models – adult as well as adolescent – the novels encourage moral conduct through individual choices under unfavourable circumstances through constant interaction and peer collaboration. The best avenue to achieve genuine morality is discovered through cooperation, mutual respect, and social equality which promote moral development in the main characters of the novels as well as in young readers. The moral education provided by the Harry Potter novels incorporates friendship, courage and deliberate choice in the true vein of Aristotelian philosophy and ethics. These novels engender in the reader a moral code through the examples set by Ron, Hermione and Harry. Friendship of the true kind between good people who admire each other’s propensity for good and encourage each other’s moral choices is relevant not only in this world of magic but in our more mundane universe as well. Courage in acting for the good, of the physical, moral or psychological sort, is an essential element in making any world a better place; thus, the three main characters manage to rid their world of the summum malum embodied by Voldemort. Their deliberate choices (prohairesis) in envisaging and selecting the right path in life despite the perils, impediments, and tribulations they are presented with can be truly inspiring for the impressionable minds of young readers. Thus, virtue ethics as expounded in these novels seems to be the solution for a world epitomized by moral relativism and the demise of the deontic age: individual virtues, not universal rules and norms, may prove to be our salvation. While the world of the novels is fictional in character, it may yet be able to influence our world through subtle moral education, through guidance and road maps towards moral fibre and outstanding courage. References Adams, R. M. 2006. A theory of virtue: Excellence in being for the good. NY: Oxford Univ. Press, 2006. Anscombe, Elizabeth. Modern moral philosophy. In Virtue ethics. Eds. Roger Crisp and Michael Slote. 26-44. Oxford: Univ. Press, 2000. Quoted in MacIntyre (2007), 2. {Is this the right page number? Yes} Ariely, D. 2008. Predictably irrational: The hidden forces that shape our decisions. New York: HarperCollins, 2008. ———. 2009.“Dan Ariely on our buggy moral code.” TED ideas worth spreading: Inspired talks by the world’s leading thinkers and doers. March 2009. http://www.ted.com/index.php/talks dan_ariely_on_our_buggy_moral _code.html (accessed 1 March 2009). Aristotle. 2004. Nicomachean ethics. Trans. and ed. by Roger Crisp. Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press. 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