There is Opportunity Here: Life Lessons from a First Time Harry Potter Reader

Confession time: Hey-o, I’m Kathleen. I’m 26 and… I am reading the Harry Potter series for the FIRST time. I know, I know—your mind is whirling and you're not alone.

I recently shared a similar post on Facebook after having read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone with an ask for the next couple of books in the series. And oh boy, do Harry Potter fans show up! Within ten minutes, I had nearly fifteen friends from which I could borrow the complete set and a response from our local library to download the e-books. Along with this generosity, I received messages from friends who were either:

1. astounded I had not already read the series, and multiple times at that (I see you Daniel Radcliffe)

OR

2. jealous that I had the opportunity to experience the series for the first time.

Harry Potter is a phenomenon unto its own. Facebook post aside, I cannot count the number of times friends attempted to coax me into giving the series a try, detailing the plot, the fantastical world that was inside each cover and citing personal anecdotes of the series’ impact. Don’t get me wrong, I loved (and love) hearing about the things that fill my friends with joy, but the more and more I heard about it, the less and less I wanted to engage. 

Remember all those times your parents asked you to do the dishes? You'd eventually do them to please your parents (and maybe to stop the nagging), but it was always better when the dish-doing was your idea. The dishes were cleaned either way, but one experience was far more enjoyable. To all those friends who consistently suggested I get to know Harry, Ron, and Hermione, I am so sorry—you may has well have been asking me to do the dishes.

And the thing is, I did try to read the first book once in fifth grade. I eagerly checked out Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, brought it home to show my folks, and was asked to return it to the library the next day. It was not the kind of material my parents thought I should be reading. And I never looked back (I'll humbly accept my Goody Two Shoes Award now. I’d like to thank…). At the time, all I wanted was to understand the references and be a part of the club.

But under quarantine and extended executive orders, I found myself sitting on my bed with a copy of the first book affectionately given to me by my roommate sophomore year of college. Her copy had been well worn. The edges of the pages were softened and aged with that familiar golden color. The binding was broken, held together by packing tape. On various pages, hearts had been drawn in green gel pen and pages were creased where they had been previously been dog-eared. I couldn’t think of anything I wanted more amid this pandemic than to experience the joy of another world and the sincerity of the Potterhead community.

And as I’ve read through the first three books, I've found myself lamenting. Lamenting because this bullheadedness feels indicative of the anxieties that have kept me reserved and prevented me from experiencing simple joys, like the laughter that comes from Ron's slug charm backfiring and Dumbledore eating an earwax-flavored Bernie Bott's Every Flavor Bean. Lamenting because life doesn't seem to send the purpose like a Hogwarts letter to 4 Privet Drive - one that finds you even when the mail slot is nailed shut and your Uncle Vernon drags you out to an island in the middle of a storm.

Lamenting because all too often we are in our own way.

But there is opportunity here.

Opportunity because there is a whole world to explore, even if it’s currently confined to neighborhood walks. Opportunity because glimmers of hope can show up unexpectedly like Harry’s invisibility cloak. Opportunity to admit that stubbornness undergirds your actions and doing the dishes is not all bad. In fact, you’re very much enjoying doing the dishes.

Book four, I’m getting out of my own way and I’m coming for ya!

(P.S. Eternal gratitude for my sweet, sweet friend who road-tripped across the state to drop off her HP set for my reading pleasure. Thanks for showing up, ya Potterhead!)

[Photo by post author, Kathleen Roark]