Harry Potter must die.

We Americans like closure. No - we need closure.

The British have no such hang-ups. They demonstrate almost limitless patience (which explains cricket) when it comes to the rather touchy issue of "resolution". We Americans, however, do not want froufrou endings. We want things definitively tied up.

And by "things" I mean lots of people dead. And by "definitively tied up" I mean in excruciating ways that ideally involve lots of gratuitous explosions.

We really like gratuitous explosions. And we like it when characters have pithy catchphrases as the embers rain down on them in slow motion.

At the TV show Lost, we have announced our grand finale 48 short episodes from now. Shockingly, the pundits have already announced that they pre-hate it. The prevailing sentiment seems to be that our ending will be either too wacky to make sense or too anticlimactic to have justified the six seasons preceding it.

I am thrilled by this assessment as there is almost certainly nowhere to go but up.

J.K. Rowling finds herself with the opposite problem. Her story and writing have so captivated the world that expectations are through the roof. In fact, it should not matter how Rowling executes her final dive, but some people (I mean me) will judge all that preceded it based on how little splash there is when she hits the water.

Fair? No. But what do you expect from people who like unnecessary explosions and pithy catchphrases?

I read an article recently saying that 80 percent of American poll respondents said they thought Harry would not survive the final book. As is the case in many polls, there is probably a degree of wish fulfillment here. In other words, we want the little bugger to die.

OK, it was not an article. It was an inset in US Weekly. This makes my point no less valid.

So why do we want Harry to go to that great place in the sky?

The poor child's parents were brutally murdered, he spent his childhood in a closet, and every year one of his friends dies. Yet we do not offer him our sympathy. We offer him our bloodlust.

Do we feel sorry for Harry? No. We want him to take a dirt nap.

And that is because we want to be surprised.

Because if there is one thing we like more than explosions, it is surprises. And even though eight out of 10 of us want him to die, we know in our hearts that he will not.

And that is because Rowling would not dare.

She cannot whack Harry because there are rules that must be followed when it comes to how one ends a grand mythology. Good triumphs over evil. Hope overcomes despair. Paper covers rock. Harry wins. Voldemort loses. The Ewoks sing.

And this is precisely why Harry has to die. It will be tragic, emotional and surprising. But most of all it will be fair.

When Rowling first took us by the hand and led us down the path of her story (a brilliant one, I've neglected to mention), she boldly titled her first chapter The Boy Who Lived.

We come to learn later that Harry has survived an assassination attempt, both his parents had sacrificed their lives to spare his. The most rewarding ending would be one in which he performs a similar act of self-sacrifice. I would just about giggle with glee were I to get to the last chapter (I never peek ahead) and find it titled The Boy Who Died.

So yes. Sorry, children. I hope Harry buys the farm. Even though I know he will not.

Maybe if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named tossed one final spell at Harry? Like a mega-Avada Kedavra curse that nobody had ever survived? And if Harry, like, did some kind of Matrix-slow-motion move and used his wand to deflect? And then his opponent like totally exploded everywhere into a thousand pieces of reptilian flesh? If, like, Harry blew on the end of his wand and said, "I told you not to curse, Voldemort."

That would be fine, too.

Damon Lindelof is the co-creator and head writer of the television series Lost. The New York Times

(China Daily 07/10/2007 page11)