Yes, it’s me – second row as you enter (behind the silly people who like to strain their necks) – seat dead center – child’s snack on my lap – munching popcorn and gummy bears with a Diet Coke chaser – forty five minutes early – my Senior Citizen ticket stub in my pocket.
I turn to answer a question from the woman to my right who has allowed me the one seat left beyond the six she is saving in this row and the four behind. She is obviously a mother, in her 40’s if I had to guess. I smile. No, it’s ok, you don’t need to move anyone – I’m alone. And for some reason I feel I have to give an explanation. None of my friends are into Harry Potter and even my kids won’t come with me; so here I am! She is kind. “So you’re really into Harry Potter?” she asks. I don’t say this but I’m thinking, Heck yeah, my cat is named Hermione for heaven sakes. “That’s really nice,” she says politely but I wonder if she is now fearful to have one of her children sit directly beside me.
I recently gave in and began calling myself a “writer.” And it’s true. I do write. I’ve been published twice, both times in a small campus literary journal but hey, it’s press. JK Rowlings astounds me. Many of us can turn a good phrase, write a good line or even a novel. But her imagination is second to none. I have often wondered if she sits in the dark, alone with pen and paper, and simply watches them fly into the room for her eyes only. Quiditch, Nimbus Two-Thousand-and-One, Butter Beer, Dementors, Muggles, Animagi and Hogwarts. Dobby, Dumbledore, Severus and Professor McGonagall.
I read the first book when my children were young enough to enjoy them, although they did not. I got totally hooked after the first movie brought those fantasies to life. Fell in love with those darling little munchkin faces of Harry and Hermione and Ron. And hated the villain Voldemort who represents the worst of all Evil.
No one in the theater wanted it to end; you could sense the tension in the last five minutes. Each of us hoping that perhaps it was a joke on us; that there is a next episode after all. But alas, the vision ends. Our friends have become adults: no longer the magical, innocent seekers of truth and Good. As we filed out and threw our empty containers into the large gray trash bins, we were greeted with the usual “Thank you for coming to the movie” from the clean-up crew. And for the first time I wanted to reply,” Oh, thanks so much for having us,” as a tiny tear formed in my eye.
In case you are one of thirty people who have not seen Harry and have no idea what any of this means, please visit the sites below:
http://movies.ign.com/articles/100/1002569p1.html (25 most popular characters)