I remember the great lengths I have went through for Harry Potter.
I remember being at summer camp, and using my only free weekend to have my mother drive all the way to Valdosta to take me and my friends to see Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. That movie makes me remember Caitlin R., Caitlin H., Kate H., and Kayln P.
I remember making my parents wake up early in the morning to by the book version of that story at a random bookstore in Rhode Island. That makes me remember my family’s first of many road trips, and how we saw the little boy in New York state standing in his front yard casting spells on his mother as she called him back inside. It makes me remember my mother crying as we drove closer to the Statue of Liberty, baffled that a country girl like her got to see that.
I remember her every time I think of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. I remember sitting on the couch as she read me the first three chapters, desperate for me to find a story book that I could read to make better grades in my reading class.
I remember getting impatient to read the latest Harry Potter book out at the time, the Goblet of Fire. It was worth 42 AR points, and I only needed 22. I finished it in two weeks time, and made a 95% on the exam.
That was back before any of the movies came out, and we pronounced Hermoine “Her-me-own.”
That makes me think of Shelby S., and me and Kendra P. making fun of her for pronouncing the name “Hormone” as we walked down the fifth grade hall to go to art class. Ha, Harry Potter makes me remember back when public schools still offered art class.
This makes me think of how everyone in my Gifted-and-Talented class (guess I improved at reading enough?) made fun of me for pronouncing Sirius like serious after I finally finished the Prisoner of Azkaban. They called him “seer-us.” Imagine how satisfied I was when that movie finally premiered, and I got to tell them that I was right all along. :)
I was reading the Chamber of Secrets when the Twin Towers fell. This makes me think of my fifth grade social studies teacher crying behind her desk, and reminds me of how, back when everyone thought it was caused by Pakistan, we looked it up on the globe my reading teacher had. (Did I mention that by this time, I was in the gifted reading class?)
I think back to the night my mother took me to see Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, despite the fact that our preacher had preached about how evil Harry Potter is. I remember my friend Kendra P. walked into the theater, and we felt so cool because our parents let us sit alone near the front row. We felt so grown up. I remember exclaiming things like,
“THAT’S HAGRID’S HUT!” and “Hermione looks exactly like I imagined!” and “Oliver Wood is so hot!”
I remember how excited I was to read The Half-Blood Prince, which ended up being my favorite book of all. It came out the same year that I was at summer camp, and my roommate’s boyfriend brought me a copy the day we moved out. (Which happened to be the day the book came out.) We’re now roommates in college. She’s now ditched that guy for a hilarious Jewish kid, whom I hope to see as I walk down the aisle to take my place in her bridal party.
Now, I am finally old enough to allow myself to go to a midnight premiere. My parents are four hours away and will be sound asleep as the all-grown-up Megan waits hours to get the best seat. When I’m old, and my kids are watching this movie in their literature class bored out of their minds, I’ll look back to tonight and think about Bekah J., Kim S., Rebecca P., and April B. I’ll remember how we’ll cry as Fred takes his final breath, and as Hermione and Ron finally share their kiss on the big screen.
We’ll cry as we see the adult trio with their children, and know that time of our lives isn’t as far away as it used to be. Back before we knew that Harry was a Horcrux. Back before Voldemort ever returned. Back when Sirius, Snape, Dumbledore, and Dobby remained alive and well in the heart of our imagination. Back before we were old enough to attend a midnight premiere.