Kill off Harry Potter. My colleague Phil Maynard is right. It pains me to say so, because - like most Harry Potter fans - the prospect of a sequel has consoled me during the gloomy post-Potter withdrawal period. But next time will be different. JK Rowling says the seventh Potter novel will be the last, and that two of the main characters will die. One of them ought to be her hero.
Potter's death would not just offer Rowling a big literary challenge. A death scene subtle and yet powerful enough to be appreciated by her younger readers would be a genuinely impressive achievement. It would not necessarily ensure, as she hopes, that her hero couldn't be resurrected by another author, though I cannot think of a writer who has pulled off that trick successfully. (Arthur Conan Doyle only managed it because he was bringing his own creation back to life.) No, the best reason to kill off Potter is because Rowling needs to take her readers somewhere they are genuinely afraid to go - a world where magic and school no longer offer any protection against danger and evil. In the Potter universe, immortality is not something to be coveted. It is a fearful thing that Voldemort covets and that Harry must not allow him to achieve. Voldemort tries to hide bits of his soul in inanimate objects and animals; Harry knows you can't do that.
It will be tough. Some libraries will refuse to lend the book to children under 12. Christian fundamentalists in the States, some of whom already boycott the Potter series on the grounds of its occultish content, will draw unfavourable comparisons with the redemption offered by CS Lewis's Narnia stories. There has always been a way out for Harry. Magic offers limitless ways for him to defeat his enemies. When the conjuror's hat finally runs out of silk scarves, when Houdini doesn't escape from the tank, there will be shock and hurt.
Rowling may be tempted to suggest that something of Harry stays behind. That would be consoling, but fraught with difficulties. Killing off something nasty and hinting that it might come back can be chilling: Albert Camus did it very well at the end of La Peste when he described how the plague bacillus can lie dormant for years. Leaving behind a bit of Harry will be more difficult. Rowling might hint at the possibility that his girlfriend Ginny is pregnant, for example, but her younger readers won't like that much (and nor will some of the parents). Doctor Who's scriptwriters recently tried to pull off a similar compromise after a young woman was swallowed whole by keeping her face alive in a paving stone. It was strange and rather repellent, particularly when her boyfriend referred coyly to their "love life" ("Let's not talk about that," snapped the paving stone. Let's not, indeed).
Will Rowling be brave enough to kill the character she loves? Let's hope so: by doing so, she would break one of the last taboos of children's literature and open up a Pandora's box of fear and wonder for her readers. It's an awful thought; I can't wait.
