"The long game was ended, the snitch had been caught"
“Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?... ...Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?”
Last night we finished the seventh installation in the Harry Potter series. This marks both a triumph and a great sadness for me. I am impressed that between the ages of 5 and 7 you sat through the entire series, followed along in an engaged manner, listening well enough to summarize the previous night’s reading before we started up again. I am thrilled that I was able to share one of the great loves of my childhood with you and have it be well received. There is also sadness that we will not be able to continue on this journey any longer.
I also cannot express the thrill I got to hear you ask me if you could read the series by yourself? Yes! The beauty of books is that they can be read over and over again, and each time, we notice a little more, pick up additional tidbits and nuances.
Throughout our reading, you constantly were asking to watch the movies, which I repeatedly refused to allow. Once a movie has been seen, your imagination naturally seems to input the sets, actors and other visuals from the movie, instead of allowing your mind to paint a picture. This is a wonderful skill, to be able to get lost in an adventure in your own head. If you have it, boredom need not be a constant companion.
Picking up a good book allows one to enter a different time, place, and mindset. We can walk in someone else’s shoes, and peek through their eyes, broadening our capacity for empathy, all while leaving our own troubles, worries or emotions behind. As you saw, the sadness I experience when Dobby dies, despite knowing house-elves are not real, and having read the books dozens and dozens of times, is very real. I truly am moved to tears each time we read of the great sadness and bitterness that Severus lives with because of his own poor life choices.
We can learn lessons from works of fiction, precluding the need to learn from our own mistakes. Can we lash out in terrible pain and anger at those that we love? Yes, but we will live with the consequences, which are not of our choosing. I prefer to internalize the terrible lesson Snape learned when, in a moment of weakness and hurt, he yelled “Mudblood” at the woman he loves. Much easier, and a lesson that has served me well.
Great fiction transports, moves, instructs and inspires. Harry’s speech to Aberforth regarding self-sacrifice for the greater good should absolutely motivate readers to step up and do the right thing, regardless of cost. The undergirding lesson that love is the most powerful form of magic should absolutely light a fire in any reader to prioritize their relationships with those they hold dear over that which is less meaningful.
I want to thank you for allowing me to share this experience with you. I am sure the frequent crying seemed odd, and I know my bad attempts at a French accent were awful, but I hope you enjoyed the experience as much as I did.
Next up is a long trek to Mount Doom. I do love a good hike!!
Love,
Dad