Mary GrandPré
A Reluctant Beginning
When Scholastic art director David Saylor reached out to Mary GrandPré in the late 1990s with a proposal to illustrate a book about a boy with magical powers, her answer wasn’t the enthusiastic yes one might expect. At the time, GrandPré was a freelance illustrator with a handful of children's books under her belt—and a very full schedule. “I don’t think I’ll have the time,” she told Saylor.
But Saylor believed in her. He had long admired her jewel-toned pastels and luminous atmospheres, and he knew she was the right fit. He sent her the manuscript of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, hoping the story might change her mind.
It did. GrandPré read the book, connected with the lonely, mistreated boy in the cupboard under the stairs, and called Scholastic back: she would take the job.
What began as just another assignment would become one of the most iconic illustration careers in publishing history.
Sorcerers, Sketches, and Secret Safes
Once she agreed to the project, GrandPré approached it with meticulous care. Her process began with reading the manuscript two or three times, highlighting characters in one color and events in another. She mined visually descriptive passages, gathering imagery that would form the foundation of both the cover and interior chapter illustrations.
She created “pencil roughs” on tracing paper—loose, early sketches—and faxed them to Scholastic. David Saylor and editor Arthur Levine would review her work and, when necessary, consult with J.K. Rowling for input. Although GrandPré and Rowling never worked together directly, their creative visions aligned so naturally that GrandPré rarely had to revise anything. “She was always very agreeable,” GrandPré later reflected.
The final illustrations were rendered in GrandPré’s signature unfixed pastels—a medium that produces rich, velvety colors but is highly fragile. This nearly led to disaster when Rowling, seeing the artwork in person for the first time, reached out to touch it, not knowing the pastel wasn’t fixed. “Her finger came away covered in color,” Saylor recalled. “It didn’t ruin the piece, but it gave me a heart attack!”
Creating the Icon
The final cover of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone was packed with visual Easter eggs: Quidditch players (not clouds) in the background, a glimpse of the Forbidden Forest, the castle turrets peeking from the right. “It’s kind of a walkway,” GrandPré explained—a corridor of possibilities where Harry can fly between columns and encounter new magic.
She submitted several cover concepts, including one featuring Fluffy, the three-headed dog, guarding a trapdoor. But the editorial team agreed: Harry needed to be the focus. The image of him flying on a broom after the Golden Snitch was simply too iconic to pass up.
In addition to the illustrations, GrandPré made another lasting contribution: the Harry Potter logo. It wasn’t part of her original assignment, but as a typography enthusiast, she asked if she could try lettering the title. Her sketch of “Harry Potter,” complete with its now-famous lightning bolt in the “P,” was instantly embraced—and became one of the most recognized logos in the world. The design was so strong, Warner Bros. later adopted it for the film franchise, something rarely done with book typography.
Growing Up with Harry
Over time, as the tone of the books darkened and Harry aged, so too did GrandPré’s illustrations. The early books were rendered in jewel tones and whimsical compositions. But with Order of the Phoenix, she began to explore mood, atmosphere, and emotion more deeply. The figures became larger, closer, more intense.
“It started out light-hearted,” she said. “But as Harry changed, I think my portrayal changed in the same way—more based in reality.”
Each cover took about a month to finish in color, plus another month for the chapter headings. The later books required even more secrecy and pressure. Scholastic would fly down with the manuscript and hand it off like a secret agent passing classified information. GrandPré had to lock it in a safe, sign NDAs, and keep quiet—even with her family.
“I couldn’t even say I had it,” she admitted. “It was very serious stuff.”
Despite the immense scrutiny, GrandPré never stopped approaching each book with her characteristic thoroughness and heart. She even tried to age Harry year by year through subtle facial changes—a challenge she likened to being his parent: “I comb his hair or mess it up, I make sure he looks good before he goes out the door.”
Easter Eggs and Oversights
Every GrandPré cover invites close inspection. She intentionally included hints, shadows, and symbols—never spoiling the plot, but always teasing the reader forward.
Her chapter sketches followed the same approach. Saylor noted that nearly every one of her first-draft ideas was used. However, one surprising omission stood out: Ron and Hermione did not appear in any of the interior illustrations of Sorcerer’s Stone.
“I revisited the book and realized, wow, those two didn’t make it,” GrandPré admitted. “There was just so much juicy stuff happening, I think they were maybe a little too normal compared to the magic and mayhem all around.”
From School of Magic to Sorcerer’s Stone
Early on, the U.S. editorial team feared that “Philosopher’s Stone” might not resonate with American readers. Arthur Levine proposed the more direct Harry Potter and the School of Magic, and GrandPré even sketched possible covers under that title.
But when the team saw it laid out, they knew something was off. “It felt too prosaic, like ‘School of Chemistry,’” Saylor recalled. Rowling agreed, and the alternate title Sorcerer’s Stone was born.
While Rowling later expressed regret over the change, the result was a book that captivated American audiences—visually and linguistically—and helped launch a global sensation.
The Golden Curtain Falls
By the time Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows arrived, GrandPré’s life had changed. She and her husband had just adopted their daughter from China when the manuscript was delivered. “It was the biggest job of my career… and the biggest change in my life,” she said.
Still, she gave it her all, completing the project in about two and a half months, aided by family who helped with childcare.
The Deathly Hallows cover featured a dramatic wraparound illustration for the first time in the series. It showed a triumphant yet anguished Harry, arm raised, under a fiery sky. Voldemort lurked in the shadows on the back, hands outstretched, his face half-shrouded in hood and gloom. “It’s the most dramatic,” GrandPré said. “I think it’s my best.”
Like Harry, GrandPré had grown. Her palette evolved—gold for triumph, green for the darkness of Half-Blood Prince, and blue for the emotional turbulence of Order of the Phoenix. Each tone reflected the soul of the book it adorned.
Life After Hogwarts
After illustrating seven books across a decade, GrandPré finally stepped away from Harry Potter. Warner Bros. had acquired the rights to her artwork and approached her to create a style guide and additional scenes for licensed products. She declined the former—it was too vast, too time-consuming—but accepted other commissions.
Reflecting on the end of the series, GrandPré likened it to sending a child off to college. “I’ll miss him in a good way,” she said. “It’s nice to wrap it up and celebrate it as a whole.”
Though sometimes wary of being pigeonholed, she remains proud of the journey and its impact. “It’s hard to say what life would’ve been like without Harry Potter,” she mused. “It opened doors, but sometimes I wonder what other projects I might’ve done.”
The Illustrator and the Boy Who Lived
Mary GrandPré met J.K. Rowling only once—at a dinner in Chicago during the Prisoner of Azkaban tour. They sat beside each other. Rowling brought her daughter, and the two women connected not as legends of a global phenomenon, but as mothers. “She’s kind of like us,” GrandPré remembered.
Though they never worked together directly, the synergy between writer and illustrator was uncanny. GrandPré understood the heart of the books and turned Rowling’s words into visual poetry—gentle, mysterious, bold, and true.
“I hope I’ve added some magic and life to some really wonderful writing,” she said.
She did more than that. She helped generations of readers see the magic—before a single page was turned.