Dear James,
As Harry’s father, and as someone who died in the battle against Voldemort, you have been cast as a hero in the Harry Potter series. It is clear that you loved you wife, Lily, and your son, Harry, very much, and that in the larger battle that we read as good versus evil, you chose the side of good. You joined the Order of the Phoenix, you sided with Dumbledore, and you lost your life as a result. In death, you have sought to protect your son where and how you could, lending him your energy and your spirit as he continued to fight the good fight.
No one is perfect, James, and it would be unfair to hold you to a higher standard than anyone else. Everyone makes mistakes, not only but perhaps especially in adolescence, when we seek to discover ourselves, to find out who we are and who we are not. Often, we find and attach ourselves to groups, which can provide a lifeline of safety and security as we test the waters of adulthood.
It can be easy, in a group, to hold onto that identity, at the exclusion of others – other aspect of your own identity, and other people as well. It can take effort, and attention, not to do that – to let yourself be a full person, not reduced to a particular characteristic, and to step outside of that group to interact with people not like you, or less like you, or perhaps, like you in ways you are not ready to acknowledge or admit.
You are a Gryffindor, James, and you formed a group of other Gryffindors. But it was not your Gryffindor qualities that held that group together. In fact, I would argue that those characteristics were incidental and at odds with the clique that you formed. it was your charisma that brought the group together. You were the leader, James, with Sirius as a close second, and I think Sirius, Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew looked up to you, and respected you, and wanted to be like you. With leadership, as with power, comes responsibility.
You grew up to be a responsible young adult who did what was right rather than what was easy, James. And that is important. But it is also important to be able to look back and acknowledge the mistakes you made, the damage you did, and apologize and take responsibility for all that. Now, to be fair, you are dead; if you were alive, you might have done or be doing exactly that. But I’m not convinced.
When you were in high school, you had moments of meanness and cruelty. Again, that doesn’t make you unique, James, and we have all had those moments. But those moments have consequences. We saw those moments in particular with respect to Severus Snape. You had many things – through luck and circumstance – that gave you an advantage over him. You were well-off financially. You were attractive in that stereotypical way that is so painfully important in high school. You were popular, with confidence that often spilled over into arrogance.
I want to tell you that Snape got beyond your treatment of him, James – that he was able to let go, to see you for the young, headstrong boy that you were, to understand that your treatment of him said far less about him than it did about you. I want to ease any shame or guilt that you might be feeling, that might get in the way of your ability to recognize and take responsibility for any pain or damage that you might have caused.
But I can’t, James. I’ve struggled with this letter for weeks now. I want to have empathy for the position you assumed as a teenager, to connect with you around all the good you did afterwards as a member of the Order of the Phoenix, to see in you what Lily and Lupin saw in you. I want to suggest to you that Snape’s protection of your son was a sign that he had forgiven you, that the pain you had caused was not lasting, and that even without your acknowledgment, he was able to grieve and move on. I want to do those things because that might make it easier for you to own up to what you did.
And yet, I can’t, because I don’t think that’s true. I think that your treatment of Severus was cruel, and caused real and lasting damage. That he was able to do the right thing and protect your son, whatever the reason, is somewhat incidental to that. Someone else in his position might have had the same experience but been more resilient and sustained less damage.
But that wasn’t Snape’s experience. And perhaps in part because of the trauma he sustained as a result of your bullying, while he was able to protect Harry, ultimately, he wasn’t able to be kind to him, or empathic toward him, or compassionate toward him. He protected Harry because of his love for Lily, but he abused Harry, I think, as a way of getting back at you. And while we have to hold Snape accountable for those choices, and his behavior, we can only do that if we are willing to hold you accountable for yours.
I know you’re dead, James, but you are a ghost, and it’s a magical world. I feel certain there was a way for you to have gotten a message to Snape while he was still alive, and even more certain that you can find him now that you’re both in the same realm. I know that the best way to facilitate your apology is to find a way to help you, without shaming you, to recognize your own behavior and take responsibility for what you did and try to make amends.
But to be honest, James, I’m really tired, and even more tired of seeing people behave aggressively and cruelly toward others; I just to have the energy to sugar coat this for you. I’m not your therapist, although I have some I could recommend.
So look in the mirror, James, own up to what you did, and apologize. You say you’re a Gryffindor – act like one.
Sincerely,
Professor Cermele
