Catching up with The Boy Who Lived

I read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone for the first time in the summer between my sophmore and junior years of high school. Because I'm American I apparently can't understand British English and thus was not able to procure a copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, despite the fact the philosopher's stone is an actual theoretical object from alchemy and the sorcerer's stone is something some editor made up to sell the book to American children who only ever seem to learn about Abraham Lincoln and Indians who wore feathered headbands in school. That being said, I love Abraham Lincoln with what can only be described as a soul-crushing hero-worship. The Second Inaugural Address (aka Lincoln's recap of 'how the country went to shit' and also where he says "With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive...to bind up the nation's wounds...to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations") sings with so much truth and lovely sadness I literally die a little inside. But I was talking about the little boy with a lightning bolt scar on his forehead here, not the man who was truly the greatest American president (I know you can hear me you Reaganophiles).

I decided to read Harry Potter because I was really curious what all the fuss was about. Living in the Bible belt means I encounter lots of people who think books like Harry Potter and Das Kapital and Catcher in the Rye and Origin of the Species are dangerous. I was kind of disappointed that I did not, in fact, imediately accept Satan as my overlord and develop devastating skills in Black Magic. However, I was delighted to find a very clever story, one that isn't watered down for kids, retaining enough to be charming and funny and intensely readable. I read Chamber of Secrets next, and then went to the library to borrow Prisoner of Azkaban and Goblet of Fire, which I devoured. Goblet of Fire was particularly good, and also kind of scary, especially there at the end. Voldemort ends up making a pretty intimidating villian for a dead guy.

Junior year happened to be the year my legendary introvert/extrovert flipover happened, the year I decided to stop moping about moving 400 miles and finally get some goddanged friends already, and it just so happened my then-aquaintance in first period Amber Plemmons had also read the books that summer. So that started a dialog (and a friendship which culminated with me as her maid of honor at her wedding in February 2004) and ended up being our obsession for a number of months, a great number of months. This also happened to be the year the first movie came out, so you can imagine, two sixteen year olds going to see a movie of a book they have become obsessed about...yeah... I happen to be a professional geek, I can obsess about the most random things without even trying, and something with a built-in franchise like that is just asking for trouble. I have no idea how much money Amber and I spent seeing that movie over and over or buying the toys and giggling like mad over our numerous and inexplicable in-jokes. I think we remained enamoured of the young heros (she always liked Harry best, but my heart belonged to the young Ron Weasley, brave and brash and clumsy and in the shadows) until our graduation, though by that time it had gotten mixed up with our mutual love for Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, and diminished in intensity.

That was the summer The Order of the Pheonix came out, and we went to the midnight party together of course (though by this time Amber was either engaged or well on her way to being so, and we were kind of drifting apart over it) and then we got that monster of a book and began to read it in the car on the way home. I read that book in two days, and went I got to the end I felt so deflated, it really wasn't as good as the other four. So my fanatical devotion rather dwindled then, and I moved on to obsess over other things, like Richard Feynman, and the unit circle. If you were to ask me now what my biggest obsession is (I have so many) I would probably have to make some mention of Ewan McGregor's huge smile and crinkley eyes. Yes, I am seeing The Island a week from Friday, and yes, I know it will be terrible. I wasn't excited about the then-unnamed sixth book at that time, because there were three years between GOF and OOTP, so I knew I had a awhile to wait, and also, if it was anything like OOTP then I wasn't looking forward to it that much.

Then, early this year, I was shopping around at Barnes and Noble (as is my wont) and I noticed a sign, "PREORDER YOUR COPY OF HARRY POTTER AND THE HALF-BLOOD PRINCE TODAY!", and so I did as the sign commanded, because I know how those books sell out. Then I promptly forgot about it for six months. While the Harry Potter fanbase ran amuck trying to figure out who the half blood prince is, who might die in this one, who the shadowy shapes in the background of the unveiled bookcover might be, I went on about my business as usual, helping people with their College Algebra and PreCalculus, studying Western Literature from the Age of Reason onward, freaking out about Episode Three on an epic scale that involved t-shirts and a folding chair and waiting in line for hours on end and hugging Jango Fett.

But slowly it began to creep in the back of my mind, the seed starting to sprout, and then, a few days ago, I suddenly realized: Holy shit, Harry Potter is totally coming out this Saturday. And so now that I am less than forty-eight hours from finding out the identity of the Half-Blood Prince and learning if the terrible thing that happened at the end of the last one really happened and reading this next to last installment of this charming series, I am overcome with a sudden and inexpressible desire to call Amber in Nebraska where she lives with her husband and scream, "FLY DOWN TO GEORGIA SO WE CAN PUSH ALL THE KIDS OUT OF THE WAY WHEN WE GO TO STAND IN LINE!"