This is just a prologue
I'm done. 4:30 PM Saturday until now- 11 PM Sunday- I have completed the final installment of Harry Potter. I thought I would cry, or at least feel some sort of emotional distress upon finishing the story; Harry Potter (and I know I'm not alone) had become a very important part of my life. Since I finished the first book so many years ago, my heart remained invested in this character- more so than any other fictional life I have ever put interest in. But the commercially driven anticipation that I had felt misled me into thinking that I couldn't possibly go on without having book after book, knowing that Harry wouldn't leave me because I would always wonder what would happen next, what would become of this boy that I had gained such an affinity for, a connection with. But the book, seemingly a talisman itself, sits closed and silent behind me. Its secrets no longer elusive. And the author didn't pull some marketing trick like I had come to expect from mainstream entertainment, but I'm satisfied. And fully aware that another book won't come, I know full well that Harry won't leave me.
I had chosen that book in a strange manner. When I walked into Barnes and Noble yesterday afternoon, I stood before the well-advertised table and paused. What ran through my head was a need to choose correctly- like Indiana Jones before the table of Holy Grails. And a fleeting thought ran through my head that brought me back to the first book- like I was a young wizard in Olivandander's shop, the wand choosing its owner and not the other way around; I realized that all the books were of equal quality and saw my target- I grabbed across the table instead of at one in front of me, almost feeling foolish as about five others were grabbing theirs quickly and queuing for the well-manned cash registers. In front of me in line was a sheepish girl with black hair, clutching her yet unpurchased book to her chest and clearly not feeling quite as ashamed of her purchase when I proudly held mine. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone, ready to send a text message to those who cared, but I instead took a moment to make small talk with the girl, who seemed perfectly outcasted as I had once been when I had read the first novel. She smiled and made small talk back, but before she could continue, the trained expediency of the the staff beckoned her attention and I was left next in line.
My boyfriend, handsome as he is tall, hovered near the doorway, waiting for me to emerge from the roped-off line of cash registers. When I completed my transaction and got my change ("I'm really good at counting to 25 today!") I met him with my hand free of the green plastic bag and I noticed that the shy girl from ahead of me in the line seemed to be moving awfully slow a few feet ahead of us just outside the doorway, she had been twitching her head back to just catch a glimpse of me and finally as Oskar and I made our way into the open air, she took a couple sidelong glances and quickly noticed the man holding my hand. Oskar seemed to have taken notice of her behavior and with a chivalrous protectiveness, craned his face toward mine and kissed me square on the mouth. Not wanting to miss any attempt at further conversation by the girl, I kept looking at her and noticed her head whip back around and gaze at the ground. Oskar is always quick to display his affection for me when someone looks at him funny- frankly, I gave him the same funny look when I met him and had the vision of tearing off his pants- but this girl seemed lonely and Oskar's chivalry seemed to make her feel even more so.
What normally would have made me feel scathingly superior left an unsettling feeling in my gut- why had this girl counted so much on finding a friend in me? We had only met briefly, she didn't know my name, and the only thing we had in common was a book (well, assumably seven books). But I had faced this before. And it continues to amaze me. Jo Rowling has created a story that unites us, makes us curious in a stranger's connection. How is it similar? How is it different? Who is her favorite of the three main characters? What house would she belong in? What shape would her Patronus take? Can she see Thestrals? I know I'm not alone as so many others have piped up when they hear of my love for Harry Potter and asked me similar questions. And all I can feel is gratitude as I look around at a world that is so keen to separate humankind. I owe a lot to Mr. Potter, entertainment value not being the only benefit he has given me. And for that, I won't forget him. And I don't plan on ceasing to dream of a world that still exists in the hearts of so many.
Don't worry, I'll be picking apart the book soon enough, but it seemed prudent to say this before anything else. For those of you that haven't finished the series- you shan't be disappointed. For those of you that have- I'm itching for input.
I had chosen that book in a strange manner. When I walked into Barnes and Noble yesterday afternoon, I stood before the well-advertised table and paused. What ran through my head was a need to choose correctly- like Indiana Jones before the table of Holy Grails. And a fleeting thought ran through my head that brought me back to the first book- like I was a young wizard in Olivandander's shop, the wand choosing its owner and not the other way around; I realized that all the books were of equal quality and saw my target- I grabbed across the table instead of at one in front of me, almost feeling foolish as about five others were grabbing theirs quickly and queuing for the well-manned cash registers. In front of me in line was a sheepish girl with black hair, clutching her yet unpurchased book to her chest and clearly not feeling quite as ashamed of her purchase when I proudly held mine. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone, ready to send a text message to those who cared, but I instead took a moment to make small talk with the girl, who seemed perfectly outcasted as I had once been when I had read the first novel. She smiled and made small talk back, but before she could continue, the trained expediency of the the staff beckoned her attention and I was left next in line.
My boyfriend, handsome as he is tall, hovered near the doorway, waiting for me to emerge from the roped-off line of cash registers. When I completed my transaction and got my change ("I'm really good at counting to 25 today!") I met him with my hand free of the green plastic bag and I noticed that the shy girl from ahead of me in the line seemed to be moving awfully slow a few feet ahead of us just outside the doorway, she had been twitching her head back to just catch a glimpse of me and finally as Oskar and I made our way into the open air, she took a couple sidelong glances and quickly noticed the man holding my hand. Oskar seemed to have taken notice of her behavior and with a chivalrous protectiveness, craned his face toward mine and kissed me square on the mouth. Not wanting to miss any attempt at further conversation by the girl, I kept looking at her and noticed her head whip back around and gaze at the ground. Oskar is always quick to display his affection for me when someone looks at him funny- frankly, I gave him the same funny look when I met him and had the vision of tearing off his pants- but this girl seemed lonely and Oskar's chivalry seemed to make her feel even more so.
What normally would have made me feel scathingly superior left an unsettling feeling in my gut- why had this girl counted so much on finding a friend in me? We had only met briefly, she didn't know my name, and the only thing we had in common was a book (well, assumably seven books). But I had faced this before. And it continues to amaze me. Jo Rowling has created a story that unites us, makes us curious in a stranger's connection. How is it similar? How is it different? Who is her favorite of the three main characters? What house would she belong in? What shape would her Patronus take? Can she see Thestrals? I know I'm not alone as so many others have piped up when they hear of my love for Harry Potter and asked me similar questions. And all I can feel is gratitude as I look around at a world that is so keen to separate humankind. I owe a lot to Mr. Potter, entertainment value not being the only benefit he has given me. And for that, I won't forget him. And I don't plan on ceasing to dream of a world that still exists in the hearts of so many.
Don't worry, I'll be picking apart the book soon enough, but it seemed prudent to say this before anything else. For those of you that haven't finished the series- you shan't be disappointed. For those of you that have- I'm itching for input.