The New York Times joins the crowd of those breaking Scholastic's embargo on revealing anything about Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. In a review in today's paper, book critic Michiko Kakutani limns the final volume of the Potter series, and, presumably inadvertently, reveals a major plot point. It's kind of amazing.

So, here it is at last: the final confrontation between Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived (For Now!), the Chosen One, the "symbol of hope" for both the Wizard and Muggle worlds, and Lord Voldemort, He Who Must Not Be Named, the nefarious leader of the Death Eaters and would-be ruler of all. Good versus Evil. Love versus Hate. The Seeker versus the Dark Lord.

J.K. Rowling's monumental, spell-binding epic, 10 years in the making, is deeply rooted in traditional literature and Hollywood sagas — from the Greek myths to Dickens and Tolkien to Star Wars — and true to its roots, it ends not with modernist, Soprano-esque equivocation, but with good old-fashioned closure: Harry dies. Getting to the finish line is not seamless — the last portion of the final book has some lumpy passages of exposition and a couple of clunky detours — but the part where Harry dies possesses a convincing inevitability that makes some of the pre-publication speculation seem curiously blinkered in retrospect.

With each installment, the Potter series has grown increasingly dark, and this volume — where Harry dies — is no exception. While Ms. Rowling's astonishingly limber voice still moves effortlessly between Ron's adolescent sarcasm and Harry's growing solemnity, from youthful exuberance to more philosophical gravity, "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" is, for the most part, a somber book that marks Harry's final initiation into the complexities and sadnesses of adulthood and dying. Because he dies.

From his first days at Hogwarts, the young, green-eyed boy bore the burden of his destiny as a leader, coping with the expectations and duties of his role, and in this volume he is clearly more Henry V than Prince Hal, more King Arthur than young Wart: high-spirited war games of Quidditch have given way to real war, and Harry often wishes he were not the de facto leader of the Resistance movement, shouldering terrifying responsibilities, but an ordinary teenage boy — free to romance Ginny Weasley and hang out with his friends. Who wouldn't, when the alternative is death, which is what happens to Harry Potter.

No wonder then that Harry often seems overwhelmed with disillusionment and doubt on the way to his death in the final installment of this seven-volume bildungsroman. Harry continues to struggle to control his temper, and as he and Ron and Hermione search for the missing Horcruxes (secret magical objects in which Voldemort has stashed parts of his soul, objects that Harry must destroy if he hopes to kill the evil lord), he literally enters a dark wood, in which he must do battle not only with the Death Eaters, but also with the temptations of hubris and despair. Also death.

Harry's weird psychic connection with Voldemort (symbolized by the lightning-bolt forehead scar he bears, as a result of the Dark Lord's attack on him when he was a baby) seems to have grown stronger too, giving him clues to Voldemort's actions and whereabouts, even as it lures him ever closer to the dark side. One of the plot's key turning points concerns Harry dying.

It is Ms. Rowling's achievement in this series that she manages to make Harry both a familiar death-bound adolescent — coping with the banal frustrations of school and dating — and an epic hero, kin to everyone from the young King Arthur to Spiderman and Luke Skywalker. Except all those characters lived. Harry dies.

With this final volume, the reader realizes that small incidents and asides in earlier installments (hidden among a huge number of red herrings) create a breadcrumb trail of clues to the plot, that Ms. Rowling has fitted together the jigsaw puzzle pieces of this long undertaking with Dickensian ingenuity and ardor. Dickens wrote some classic death scenes: The scene where Harry dies certainly measures up.

The world of Harry Potter is a place where the mundane and the marvelous, the ordinary and the surreal co-exist. It's a place where cars can fly and owls can deliver the mail, a place where paintings talk and a mirror reflects people's innermost desires. It's also a place where people — and here I'm talking specifically about Harry Potter — die. That's right: Harry Potter dies. DIES DIES DIES DIES.

For Harry Potter, Good Old-Fashioned Closure [NYT]