I just finished watching all the Harry Potter movies again. I know, instead of doing something I really needed to do, like, gasp, studying for tax later, I stayed up late watching Deathly Hallows.
Harry Potter is what defines me. It’s what made me realize that I’m a dork. I’m into books; I like being alone; and I love the fact that when I pulled the two armchairs in the living room together to make myself a nest where I can read Harry Potter in peace, my mother and yayas didn’t bother me. When I first bought the set, I didn’t realize how much it would affect me. I bought it because I wanted to be able to relate in school. I just wanted to look cool with all those books on my book shelf. Because duh, my collection was nothing short of unspectacular–a big book of facts, a couple of dictionaries, Thumbelina, and some boring books ninangs thought would be amusing to give as a gift.
But then when I started reading Harry Potter, everything changed. Yes I am taking this to the next level in drama, so sue me. I couldn’t stop reading. I walked down the hallway in school thinking I was inside Hogwarts. It made grade school all the more interesting. It made my room feel different. I never thought reading could feel like that. Magical. Pun intended.
It got to the point where my mother would reserve the book to make sure I had the copy right when it was released. I brought it everywhere with me, even in school. I traded patintero and the joys of the school fair to read a couple more chapters. Before then I used to think reading was boring, but I got so immersed in those pages, I thought I’d die if I couldn’t finish the chapter.
But I didn’t get into the whole merchandise shebang. I don’t own any shirt that says Gryffindor or anything like that. I just have the books. I remember getting so mad at my brother for losing Prisoner of Azkaban, and getting so desperately obsessive compulsive trying to look for a copy that fit the box. I just settled for a copy I found in a Scholastic book fair in school. But writing about it makes me want to hunt down a book exactly like it again.
I remember getting so mad at my mom for not allowing me to see the movie when it was released. I think it was Order of the Phoenix that I watched alone at Eastwood. I felt like I had a duty to the characters.
I guess that’s why I make law books fun. I find the most mundane parts to laugh at; I find myself smirking at silly stuff I read. I can get lost in any book because of Harry Potter. Because of well, Hermione. I mean, who wouldn’t want to be like that, smart, powerful, and uh duh, pretty?
So to JK Rowling, thank you. Thank you also for being a kickass model for a budding feminist.
I should probably get some sleep.