Narnia and Hogwarts (or, why I like Eustace better than Harry)
Author mary-j-59
Title Narnia and Hogwarts
Genre Informal essay, g-rated, about 2,800 words
Summary Is Rowling really the C.S. Lewis of this age, as some have claimed? why or why not?
I was one of those readers who, early in Rowling's career, grew convinced that she might be a modern-day C.S. Lewis. After all, she was also an English fantasist; she was engaged in writing a series of seven books; and those books were full of Christian symbols. After Deathly Hallows, I think there is still a connection between Lewis's work and Rowling's, but it is not the one I expected to find.
In his autobiography, Surprised by Joy, C.S. Lewis explains why, as a boy of ten or so, he was fascinated by popular school stories.
My reading was now mainly rubbish . . . I read twaddling school stories in the Captain. The pleasure here was, in the proper sense, mere wish fulfillment and fantasy; one enjoyed vicariously the triumphs of the hero. When the boy passes from nursery literature to school stories, he is going down, not up. Peter Rabbit pleases a disinterested imagination, for the child does not want to be a rabbit . . .; but the story of the unpromising boy who becomes captain of the First Eleven exists precisely to feed his real ambitions. (Surprised by Joy, Harcourt paperback edition, page 35.)
It's pretty clear which of these literary models Rowling's books most resemble. They are school stories, not fantasies in the mold of Peter Rabbit. I say this not because they are set at a boarding school, but because of the way the reader is asked to identify with Harry, and the way Harry develops - and does not develop.
One young man I know remarked, after Half Blood Prince, "We were supposed to identify with Harry because he was an outsider, but he's not an outsider any more. He's one of the jocks." Exactly. In fact, Harry becomes one of the jocks early in the very first book, when he is the only first-year allowed to join a quidditch team - against the rules - and is given a fine, expensive broom. Children who do feel like outsiders, as young Jack Lewis did at his cruel boarding school, are asked to identify with Harry and vicariously share his victories. And Harry, who may have seemed an "unpromising boy" initially, actually does become captain of the First Eleven - or the Wizarding equivalent.
But don't all children read school stories? Don't they all want to identify with the unlikely hero who triumphs against all odds? Of course they do! It's also true that children were - and are - just as passionate about the Narnia books as they are about the Potter stories. They want to go to Narnia and be heroes and heroines; they want to talk to animals and meet Aslan. I certainly did! If today's children want to go to Hogwarts, that's just as innocent and natural a wish as the desire to visit Narnia. It's also very natural for children to want to be special, and to long for adventure. But there are some very key differences between the two series, and the identification young readers will naturally have with the main characters in them. To begin with, the Potter books are not merely harmless wish-fulfillment fantasies. There is a pattern in these books that is both subtler and more pernicious than this. Children are asked to look down on ordinary human beings - because the only non-wizards we actually see in any depth are Harry's loathsome aunt, uncle and cousin. And every book begins with a reminder that Harry is not an ordinary boy. He is special, set apart, not like any of his family or neighbors. This is actually quite a contrast with Lewis, as we can see if we look in greater depth at some of his characters.
As I said, Rowling spends a good deal of time telling us how special Harry Potter is, even in the Wizarding World. She also remarked, in an interview, that her favorite character in the Narnia series is Eustace Clarence Scrubb, because Eustace is funny. Some readers have speculated that Draco Malfoy may be partially based on Eustace (who gets turned into a dragon.) But the characters I'd like to compare and contrast are Eustace and Harry.
Eustace is introduced in the third Chronicle to be written, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. When we first meet him, he is a somewhat precocious and obnoxious little boy. He is - like Dudley, Draco, or James in the Potter books - the only son of fond and indulgent parents; his parents, furthermore, are "advanced" and have no use for imagination. As a result of his upbringing, Eustace is self-absorbed, whiny, competitive, and selfish. He enjoys teasing and putting others down. On the positive side, he's intelligent, articulate, and has a scientific bent (he is "really rather good at botany").
Along with his cousins, Lucy and Edmund, Eustace finds himself plunged into a painting that has come alive, and ends up in the midst of a sea voyage. He scorns the ship and its company, whines constantly, and refuses discipline. Then, about midway through the book, when the Dawn Treader has survived a terrible storm, he escapes the ship's company to explore the island where they have landed - and to avoid work. Losing his way in the mountains, the young boy finds himself, literally, in the abode of dragons. Falling asleep in a dragon's lair and dreaming greedy dreams of treasure, he becomes a dragon himself. The physical transformation may be striking, but it doesn't matter half so much as the spiritual and social transformation Eustace undergoes. He had wanted to avoid work, but, once he's able to rejoin the company, he does all he can to help his shipmates. He had sneered at his cousins and at the ship, but now he sees that he has been nothing but a trouble and a nuisance all through the voyage. Eustace is deeply grateful for the kindness his shipmates (especially the mouse Reepicheep, whom he'd teased earlier) show him. It is only after he's undergone these social and spiritual changes that Aslan the lion comes to him and shows him how he can rid himself of his dragon's form.
There are several things to note about the chapter in which Eustace again becomes human. First, the first person he speaks to is Edmund - and, as all fans of the Narnia series know, the older boy is the person best able to relate to Eustace, since he, too, behaved very badly the first time he came to Narnia. Edmund says to Eustace, "You were only an ass, but I was a traitor." (The Complete Chronicles of Narnia, page 327) Because he himself has made serious mistakes, repented them, and become a better person as a result, Edmund is the person best able to understand Eustace and his experience. And the younger boy's experience - and his healing - are not complete until he has shared them with his cousin. Lewis wasn’t Catholic, but, from a Catholic pov, this is a wonderful metaphor for the Sacrament of Confession.
Second, when Eustace encounters Aslan, he feels a wholesome fear of the lion. In spite of that fear, and in spite of the possibility of pain, Eustace so longs to bathe in the well the lion shows him that he first scratches off his outer layer of skin, and then allows the lion to peel the dragon hide from him. In this scene, Eustace shows himself capable of two important virtues: obedience and courage. But there is more. As he describes his experience to Edmund, we hear Eustace express humility - not the false humility which is actually another form of pride, but true humility, which is strongly connected to gratitude and joy. He is overjoyed simply to be himself again, though he recognizes he is just an ordinary small boy. He says to Edmund, for example, "You'd think me simply phony if I told you how I felt about my own arms. I know they've no muscle and are pretty mouldy compared to Caspian's, but I was so glad to see them." (The Complete Chronicles of Narnia, page 327).
In fact, Eustace's adventures in Narnia bring him closer to his cousins, earn him a worthwhile friend (in the next book) and put him in a better relationship with the universe in general. He is no longer at the center, and no longer thinks only of himself. His parents, of course, notice the change in him, and, at the end of his adventure, his mother thinks, "he had become very commonplace and tiresome" (Complete Chronicles, page 370). But, in becoming "ordinary", as his mother complains, Eustace has become a better person. He is still Eustace - a bit too fond of showing off his knowledge and common sense at times of stress, and of telling people that they should be reasonable, but his scientific aptitude, humor, and even some of his more negative feelings are strengths, not weaknesses, now that Eustace is in the right relation with the world.
In saying that Eustace is healed, and put in right relationship to his world, by becoming (and accepting that he is) an ordinary boy, I don't mean to minimize this character in any way. We are all ordinary, and we are all unique. As Aslan says to the young king Caspian at his crowning, "You come of the Lord Adam and the Lady Eve . . .and that is both honor enough to erect the head of the poorest beggar, and shame enough to bow the shoulders of the greatest emperor on earth." (Complete Chronicles, page 284). But this does point to a major difference between the children who visit Narnia and those who visit Hogwarts.
All the young heroes and heroines of the Narnia books are ordinary boys and girls. They may have gifts and talents, as we all do (Eustace for science, Edmund, as a teen, for rock climbing, Susan for swimming and archery, Jill for horsemanship, and so on). But they also have obvious faults - even brave, loyal, truthful Lucy, who succumbs to jealousy on one occasion. And they are not called to enter Narnia because they are special, or gifted, or talented. They are called because they are needed there, and they are needed, most of all, for their basic humanity. Any child reading these books knows that she would be welcome in Narnia, if she could get there, because human beings of all kinds are welcome there, and all that is required of them is faith and trust in Aslan.
In contrast, no ordinary child will ever be called to enter Hogwarts. No ordinary child will ever be needed there. In order to go to Hogwarts, you must be born a witch or wizard, and, as we see from Petunia's story, no amount of begging or will or desire will give you magic if you are not born with it. Magic is genetic, and sets you apart from the great mass of ordinary people. And Harry is set apart even in this small, gifted population. He is "the boy who lived", the only one, according to a prophecy, with the power to defeat the Dark Lord. If Eustace's journey is accepting that he is an ordinary boy, and repenting his failings and the harm he has done, Harry's seems to be accepting that he is special and set apart. The little boy cannot at first believe that he is a wizard; he has never heard of magic except as make-believe. But he acclimates to the Wizarding World rapidly, and does not want to return to his boring, humdrum and unwelcoming Muggle home. Of course, a major cause of Harry's rejection is that his aunt and uncle have abused him, and his cousin has bullied him. Why would he want to go back to such people? Why would he want to be with them? The magical world is also full of companionship, adventure and whimsy - at least, in the first couple of books. There are hints, very early on, that the magical world is not all it's cracked up to be; all the same, we are always pleased, as readers, to be boarding the Hogwarts express with Harry and leaving the everyday world behind.
How is this different from the Narnia books? Don't those stories, too, gain momentum once the children reach the magical land of Narnia? And aren't young readers eager, in both cases, to leave the everyday world behind/
That is certainly true. But, again, in the Narnia books, there is no suggestion that ordinary people are inferior and not to be regarded. On the contrary, Narnia is open to everybody, it would seem, provided Aslan calls you there. Also, Aslan makes it quite clear that, with only a few exceptions, human children are meant to live in the human world. And that world is not, in the end, shown as inferior. Calormene, England, Narnia and all other beloved countries are all united in Aslan's country at the end of the world.
Hogwarts and the Wizarding world generally are quite different. It is made absolutely clear that ordinary human beings are unwelcome in the Wizarding World. Those few who have to know about it (the parents of Wizarding children) do not become friends with Wizarding parents; we never see visits back and forth or any but the most casual contact. The Wizarding world is generally hidden from the ordinary world by a statute of secrecy; violating the statute is a crime which, in the case of a schoolboy or schoolgirl, may merit expulsion and confiscation of one's wand; and wizards mind-wipe ordinary human beings without a second thought.
Harry, as I said above, is understandably eager to leave the Muggle world behind. He quickly learns to accept that he is special. Where Eustace has to learn self-knowledge and self-control in order to be his best self, no discipline at all is required of Harry. He greatly resents the one teacher - Snape - who insists on discipline and humility, and for the most part succeeds without working. Cheating, or simply following his instincts, are what get him through. Though Harry starts out a rather likable little boy, he becomes less so as the books proceed. And, over and over, we hear how special he is, how extraordinarily loving, how gifted, how unique - even in the Wizarding world. By the climax of the seventh book, his apparent death is cause for despair, since the entire Wizarding world is expecting this not-quite-eighteen year old boy to save them from a monster.
As I said, Harry is a likeable child in the first couple of books. And he shows gleams of self-knowledge and discipline in the third and fifth books, particularly. But, in the last two, this apparent development is completely dropped. Harry never shows a wholesome fear or awe that I can remember. He never shows joyous gratitude - in fact, in the last couple of books, I cannot remember him showing any gratitude at all. He certainly never apologizes for any harm he has caused, and never truly offers forgiveness to any enemy. He becomes, in my opinion at least, a rather unpleasant young man. And yet he is celebrated as the savior of the Wizarding World, and we are clearly meant to see him as a hero.
If a young reader identifies with Harry or his friends, they will be buying into a mythos very like the school stories C. S. Lewis found twaddling. They will see themselves in children who are special, wiser and better and more capable than the adults around them and able to do amazing things. This, is natural enough, but, carried too far, it can be pernicious. Children who know they are not special can become disheartened and disenchanted. After all, they know that they are Muggles and will never visit Hogwarts. In contrast, even if they never get to go to Narnia, children are told that they can and will meet Aslan, for he exists in the ordinary world, too. (Complete Chronicles, page 370). And, if they love Aslan and do good, all sons and daughters of Adam and Eve will be welcome in Aslan's country. *
Sources:
The Harry Potter Books by J.K. Rowling
The Complete Chronicles of Narnia, by C.S. Lewis, Harpercollins, 1998.
Surprised By Joy, by C. S. Lewis, Harcourt Paperback edition.
• I think the very touching conversation between Aslan, Edmund and Lucy - who have just been told they are too old to visit Narnia again - actually is meant to apply, also, to young readers and hint that Aslan does exist in our world. But, even if you're an atheist or don't accept Lewis's brand of Christianity, one thing is quite clear. In the world of the books themselves, all good people from all countries can and will meet Aslan. In the world of the Potter books, the vast majority of people will never know anything about magic and will never visit Hogwarts.
Mary Johnson, 2009
Title Narnia and Hogwarts
Genre Informal essay, g-rated, about 2,800 words
Summary Is Rowling really the C.S. Lewis of this age, as some have claimed? why or why not?
I was one of those readers who, early in Rowling's career, grew convinced that she might be a modern-day C.S. Lewis. After all, she was also an English fantasist; she was engaged in writing a series of seven books; and those books were full of Christian symbols. After Deathly Hallows, I think there is still a connection between Lewis's work and Rowling's, but it is not the one I expected to find.
In his autobiography, Surprised by Joy, C.S. Lewis explains why, as a boy of ten or so, he was fascinated by popular school stories.
My reading was now mainly rubbish . . . I read twaddling school stories in the Captain. The pleasure here was, in the proper sense, mere wish fulfillment and fantasy; one enjoyed vicariously the triumphs of the hero. When the boy passes from nursery literature to school stories, he is going down, not up. Peter Rabbit pleases a disinterested imagination, for the child does not want to be a rabbit . . .; but the story of the unpromising boy who becomes captain of the First Eleven exists precisely to feed his real ambitions. (Surprised by Joy, Harcourt paperback edition, page 35.)
It's pretty clear which of these literary models Rowling's books most resemble. They are school stories, not fantasies in the mold of Peter Rabbit. I say this not because they are set at a boarding school, but because of the way the reader is asked to identify with Harry, and the way Harry develops - and does not develop.
One young man I know remarked, after Half Blood Prince, "We were supposed to identify with Harry because he was an outsider, but he's not an outsider any more. He's one of the jocks." Exactly. In fact, Harry becomes one of the jocks early in the very first book, when he is the only first-year allowed to join a quidditch team - against the rules - and is given a fine, expensive broom. Children who do feel like outsiders, as young Jack Lewis did at his cruel boarding school, are asked to identify with Harry and vicariously share his victories. And Harry, who may have seemed an "unpromising boy" initially, actually does become captain of the First Eleven - or the Wizarding equivalent.
But don't all children read school stories? Don't they all want to identify with the unlikely hero who triumphs against all odds? Of course they do! It's also true that children were - and are - just as passionate about the Narnia books as they are about the Potter stories. They want to go to Narnia and be heroes and heroines; they want to talk to animals and meet Aslan. I certainly did! If today's children want to go to Hogwarts, that's just as innocent and natural a wish as the desire to visit Narnia. It's also very natural for children to want to be special, and to long for adventure. But there are some very key differences between the two series, and the identification young readers will naturally have with the main characters in them. To begin with, the Potter books are not merely harmless wish-fulfillment fantasies. There is a pattern in these books that is both subtler and more pernicious than this. Children are asked to look down on ordinary human beings - because the only non-wizards we actually see in any depth are Harry's loathsome aunt, uncle and cousin. And every book begins with a reminder that Harry is not an ordinary boy. He is special, set apart, not like any of his family or neighbors. This is actually quite a contrast with Lewis, as we can see if we look in greater depth at some of his characters.
As I said, Rowling spends a good deal of time telling us how special Harry Potter is, even in the Wizarding World. She also remarked, in an interview, that her favorite character in the Narnia series is Eustace Clarence Scrubb, because Eustace is funny. Some readers have speculated that Draco Malfoy may be partially based on Eustace (who gets turned into a dragon.) But the characters I'd like to compare and contrast are Eustace and Harry.
Eustace is introduced in the third Chronicle to be written, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. When we first meet him, he is a somewhat precocious and obnoxious little boy. He is - like Dudley, Draco, or James in the Potter books - the only son of fond and indulgent parents; his parents, furthermore, are "advanced" and have no use for imagination. As a result of his upbringing, Eustace is self-absorbed, whiny, competitive, and selfish. He enjoys teasing and putting others down. On the positive side, he's intelligent, articulate, and has a scientific bent (he is "really rather good at botany").
Along with his cousins, Lucy and Edmund, Eustace finds himself plunged into a painting that has come alive, and ends up in the midst of a sea voyage. He scorns the ship and its company, whines constantly, and refuses discipline. Then, about midway through the book, when the Dawn Treader has survived a terrible storm, he escapes the ship's company to explore the island where they have landed - and to avoid work. Losing his way in the mountains, the young boy finds himself, literally, in the abode of dragons. Falling asleep in a dragon's lair and dreaming greedy dreams of treasure, he becomes a dragon himself. The physical transformation may be striking, but it doesn't matter half so much as the spiritual and social transformation Eustace undergoes. He had wanted to avoid work, but, once he's able to rejoin the company, he does all he can to help his shipmates. He had sneered at his cousins and at the ship, but now he sees that he has been nothing but a trouble and a nuisance all through the voyage. Eustace is deeply grateful for the kindness his shipmates (especially the mouse Reepicheep, whom he'd teased earlier) show him. It is only after he's undergone these social and spiritual changes that Aslan the lion comes to him and shows him how he can rid himself of his dragon's form.
There are several things to note about the chapter in which Eustace again becomes human. First, the first person he speaks to is Edmund - and, as all fans of the Narnia series know, the older boy is the person best able to relate to Eustace, since he, too, behaved very badly the first time he came to Narnia. Edmund says to Eustace, "You were only an ass, but I was a traitor." (The Complete Chronicles of Narnia, page 327) Because he himself has made serious mistakes, repented them, and become a better person as a result, Edmund is the person best able to understand Eustace and his experience. And the younger boy's experience - and his healing - are not complete until he has shared them with his cousin. Lewis wasn’t Catholic, but, from a Catholic pov, this is a wonderful metaphor for the Sacrament of Confession.
Second, when Eustace encounters Aslan, he feels a wholesome fear of the lion. In spite of that fear, and in spite of the possibility of pain, Eustace so longs to bathe in the well the lion shows him that he first scratches off his outer layer of skin, and then allows the lion to peel the dragon hide from him. In this scene, Eustace shows himself capable of two important virtues: obedience and courage. But there is more. As he describes his experience to Edmund, we hear Eustace express humility - not the false humility which is actually another form of pride, but true humility, which is strongly connected to gratitude and joy. He is overjoyed simply to be himself again, though he recognizes he is just an ordinary small boy. He says to Edmund, for example, "You'd think me simply phony if I told you how I felt about my own arms. I know they've no muscle and are pretty mouldy compared to Caspian's, but I was so glad to see them." (The Complete Chronicles of Narnia, page 327).
In fact, Eustace's adventures in Narnia bring him closer to his cousins, earn him a worthwhile friend (in the next book) and put him in a better relationship with the universe in general. He is no longer at the center, and no longer thinks only of himself. His parents, of course, notice the change in him, and, at the end of his adventure, his mother thinks, "he had become very commonplace and tiresome" (Complete Chronicles, page 370). But, in becoming "ordinary", as his mother complains, Eustace has become a better person. He is still Eustace - a bit too fond of showing off his knowledge and common sense at times of stress, and of telling people that they should be reasonable, but his scientific aptitude, humor, and even some of his more negative feelings are strengths, not weaknesses, now that Eustace is in the right relation with the world.
In saying that Eustace is healed, and put in right relationship to his world, by becoming (and accepting that he is) an ordinary boy, I don't mean to minimize this character in any way. We are all ordinary, and we are all unique. As Aslan says to the young king Caspian at his crowning, "You come of the Lord Adam and the Lady Eve . . .and that is both honor enough to erect the head of the poorest beggar, and shame enough to bow the shoulders of the greatest emperor on earth." (Complete Chronicles, page 284). But this does point to a major difference between the children who visit Narnia and those who visit Hogwarts.
All the young heroes and heroines of the Narnia books are ordinary boys and girls. They may have gifts and talents, as we all do (Eustace for science, Edmund, as a teen, for rock climbing, Susan for swimming and archery, Jill for horsemanship, and so on). But they also have obvious faults - even brave, loyal, truthful Lucy, who succumbs to jealousy on one occasion. And they are not called to enter Narnia because they are special, or gifted, or talented. They are called because they are needed there, and they are needed, most of all, for their basic humanity. Any child reading these books knows that she would be welcome in Narnia, if she could get there, because human beings of all kinds are welcome there, and all that is required of them is faith and trust in Aslan.
In contrast, no ordinary child will ever be called to enter Hogwarts. No ordinary child will ever be needed there. In order to go to Hogwarts, you must be born a witch or wizard, and, as we see from Petunia's story, no amount of begging or will or desire will give you magic if you are not born with it. Magic is genetic, and sets you apart from the great mass of ordinary people. And Harry is set apart even in this small, gifted population. He is "the boy who lived", the only one, according to a prophecy, with the power to defeat the Dark Lord. If Eustace's journey is accepting that he is an ordinary boy, and repenting his failings and the harm he has done, Harry's seems to be accepting that he is special and set apart. The little boy cannot at first believe that he is a wizard; he has never heard of magic except as make-believe. But he acclimates to the Wizarding World rapidly, and does not want to return to his boring, humdrum and unwelcoming Muggle home. Of course, a major cause of Harry's rejection is that his aunt and uncle have abused him, and his cousin has bullied him. Why would he want to go back to such people? Why would he want to be with them? The magical world is also full of companionship, adventure and whimsy - at least, in the first couple of books. There are hints, very early on, that the magical world is not all it's cracked up to be; all the same, we are always pleased, as readers, to be boarding the Hogwarts express with Harry and leaving the everyday world behind.
How is this different from the Narnia books? Don't those stories, too, gain momentum once the children reach the magical land of Narnia? And aren't young readers eager, in both cases, to leave the everyday world behind/
That is certainly true. But, again, in the Narnia books, there is no suggestion that ordinary people are inferior and not to be regarded. On the contrary, Narnia is open to everybody, it would seem, provided Aslan calls you there. Also, Aslan makes it quite clear that, with only a few exceptions, human children are meant to live in the human world. And that world is not, in the end, shown as inferior. Calormene, England, Narnia and all other beloved countries are all united in Aslan's country at the end of the world.
Hogwarts and the Wizarding world generally are quite different. It is made absolutely clear that ordinary human beings are unwelcome in the Wizarding World. Those few who have to know about it (the parents of Wizarding children) do not become friends with Wizarding parents; we never see visits back and forth or any but the most casual contact. The Wizarding world is generally hidden from the ordinary world by a statute of secrecy; violating the statute is a crime which, in the case of a schoolboy or schoolgirl, may merit expulsion and confiscation of one's wand; and wizards mind-wipe ordinary human beings without a second thought.
Harry, as I said above, is understandably eager to leave the Muggle world behind. He quickly learns to accept that he is special. Where Eustace has to learn self-knowledge and self-control in order to be his best self, no discipline at all is required of Harry. He greatly resents the one teacher - Snape - who insists on discipline and humility, and for the most part succeeds without working. Cheating, or simply following his instincts, are what get him through. Though Harry starts out a rather likable little boy, he becomes less so as the books proceed. And, over and over, we hear how special he is, how extraordinarily loving, how gifted, how unique - even in the Wizarding world. By the climax of the seventh book, his apparent death is cause for despair, since the entire Wizarding world is expecting this not-quite-eighteen year old boy to save them from a monster.
As I said, Harry is a likeable child in the first couple of books. And he shows gleams of self-knowledge and discipline in the third and fifth books, particularly. But, in the last two, this apparent development is completely dropped. Harry never shows a wholesome fear or awe that I can remember. He never shows joyous gratitude - in fact, in the last couple of books, I cannot remember him showing any gratitude at all. He certainly never apologizes for any harm he has caused, and never truly offers forgiveness to any enemy. He becomes, in my opinion at least, a rather unpleasant young man. And yet he is celebrated as the savior of the Wizarding World, and we are clearly meant to see him as a hero.
If a young reader identifies with Harry or his friends, they will be buying into a mythos very like the school stories C. S. Lewis found twaddling. They will see themselves in children who are special, wiser and better and more capable than the adults around them and able to do amazing things. This, is natural enough, but, carried too far, it can be pernicious. Children who know they are not special can become disheartened and disenchanted. After all, they know that they are Muggles and will never visit Hogwarts. In contrast, even if they never get to go to Narnia, children are told that they can and will meet Aslan, for he exists in the ordinary world, too. (Complete Chronicles, page 370). And, if they love Aslan and do good, all sons and daughters of Adam and Eve will be welcome in Aslan's country. *
Sources:
The Harry Potter Books by J.K. Rowling
The Complete Chronicles of Narnia, by C.S. Lewis, Harpercollins, 1998.
Surprised By Joy, by C. S. Lewis, Harcourt Paperback edition.
• I think the very touching conversation between Aslan, Edmund and Lucy - who have just been told they are too old to visit Narnia again - actually is meant to apply, also, to young readers and hint that Aslan does exist in our world. But, even if you're an atheist or don't accept Lewis's brand of Christianity, one thing is quite clear. In the world of the books themselves, all good people from all countries can and will meet Aslan. In the world of the Potter books, the vast majority of people will never know anything about magic and will never visit Hogwarts.
Mary Johnson, 2009