When I was 11 years old I had a sudden epiphany of a dark world that lay ahead of me. I was in my room reading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix which had just been released that week. While I found complete and utter joy in the new words that our Queen J.K. had written and released for our reading ecstasy, somewhere in my literary feasting an evil voice spoke to me in my head,
"Soon this will end."
I could not even attempt to redirect my thoughts back to poor Harry fighting his corrupted government and vindictive school, because this thought filled me with more emotion and anguish than Umbridge ever had or would.
Even though I was still two books away from the end of Hogwarts, I had finally come to understand a fact which had been impending since the beginning - that some day it would end. I struggled to find a way to make the series last forever, maybe J.K. could write forever! There will always be more Harry to go around! Even then I knew that all good things must come to an end, and it would be much better for Harry to conclude his adventures at 17, than live to become a crappy sequel, mocked for his fan-fiction-esque existence.
In that moment I became passionate about the parenting of my children that were still decades away from being conceived; they would hear the tales of the Potter boy from the beginning of their lives. In this way I could keep Hogwarts alive forever. My offspring would love Harry, they would would be dedicated to Dumbledore's Army, and they would laugh and weep as each book finished. Even though they would never know the painful agony of waiting for a book release, I would tell them stories of how it once was, and they would be amazed that I had been there for such crucial periods of history.
This moment of euphoric epiphany of my future Potter-head children was short-lived when another dark thought crept into my mind,
"What if they don't like Harry Potter?"
What if they don't LIKE Harry Potter?! Who are these children? If they have a heart and a solid brain they will like Harry Potter.
"There are things my parents like that I don't."
Oh my holy days, my children won't like Harry Potter! What's the purpose of having them as my children if I can't even indoctrinate them properly?! What if the more I expose them to Harry Potter, the more they work to rebel against me? That is too much. I can handle Voodoo, I can handle them choosing to become Goths or something else equally fad-ish and indicative of their time, but a dislike of Harry Potter?! It can't be. I will disown them. I will cry. It will be something that a young mother simply cannot comprehend or stand.
Remember that at the time that this inner monologue was happening, I was 11 years old and wandering around my room close to tears. No wait, if I remember correctly, I was in tears. Hogwarts hadn't ended yet, and I hadn't even begun to go through puberty, so who knows where all that emotion was coming from, but it was there, and kicking.
Now that it has been 7 years since the Deathly Hallows has been released, I find that the Harry Potter universe is never actually over. With the amount of people in the world as entranced by the series as I am, there's always parties to have and discussions to get heated over. Plus, books can always be re-read. At the end of the night, if it comes down to it and my children find no joy in my favourite fandom, there's always adoption to consider.
"Soon this will end."
I could not even attempt to redirect my thoughts back to poor Harry fighting his corrupted government and vindictive school, because this thought filled me with more emotion and anguish than Umbridge ever had or would.
Even though I was still two books away from the end of Hogwarts, I had finally come to understand a fact which had been impending since the beginning - that some day it would end. I struggled to find a way to make the series last forever, maybe J.K. could write forever! There will always be more Harry to go around! Even then I knew that all good things must come to an end, and it would be much better for Harry to conclude his adventures at 17, than live to become a crappy sequel, mocked for his fan-fiction-esque existence.
In that moment I became passionate about the parenting of my children that were still decades away from being conceived; they would hear the tales of the Potter boy from the beginning of their lives. In this way I could keep Hogwarts alive forever. My offspring would love Harry, they would would be dedicated to Dumbledore's Army, and they would laugh and weep as each book finished. Even though they would never know the painful agony of waiting for a book release, I would tell them stories of how it once was, and they would be amazed that I had been there for such crucial periods of history.
This moment of euphoric epiphany of my future Potter-head children was short-lived when another dark thought crept into my mind,
"What if they don't like Harry Potter?"
What if they don't LIKE Harry Potter?! Who are these children? If they have a heart and a solid brain they will like Harry Potter.
"There are things my parents like that I don't."
Oh my holy days, my children won't like Harry Potter! What's the purpose of having them as my children if I can't even indoctrinate them properly?! What if the more I expose them to Harry Potter, the more they work to rebel against me? That is too much. I can handle Voodoo, I can handle them choosing to become Goths or something else equally fad-ish and indicative of their time, but a dislike of Harry Potter?! It can't be. I will disown them. I will cry. It will be something that a young mother simply cannot comprehend or stand.
Remember that at the time that this inner monologue was happening, I was 11 years old and wandering around my room close to tears. No wait, if I remember correctly, I was in tears. Hogwarts hadn't ended yet, and I hadn't even begun to go through puberty, so who knows where all that emotion was coming from, but it was there, and kicking.
Now that it has been 7 years since the Deathly Hallows has been released, I find that the Harry Potter universe is never actually over. With the amount of people in the world as entranced by the series as I am, there's always parties to have and discussions to get heated over. Plus, books can always be re-read. At the end of the night, if it comes down to it and my children find no joy in my favourite fandom, there's always adoption to consider.
One of my children will be named after a Harry Potter character. They, too, will either love Harry Potter, or they'll be sold to gypsies. :)
ReplyDeleteWe're still considering giving any and all children we have Harry Potter middle names. There's so many good names in the Potter universe. You've got tons of options :)
DeleteWait- when did you begin to go through puberty?
ReplyDeleteI was a late bloomer. I think 12 was the incline. I could be wrong though. I was a super emotional child as I know you are way aware. Maybe I was always in puberty and it was just very slow...
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