Hogwarts will always be there (to welcome you home)

Funny how I always seem to come back to Harry Potter. I think it’s because I found myself as a reader AND as a writer thanks to Harry, or, should I say, thanks to J.K Rowling. As a reader, because there was a lot of time in between books for conjectures and for discussing hidden clues and author intent, and as a writer, because, thanks to the HP fandom and the people I met while I was part of it (it feels like a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away), I was first introduced to the wonderful notion that hey, maybe I COULD do this. Maybe it was possible.

It’s been a long time. I’ve grown up (mostly). I’ve written (a whole lot). I’ve lost contact with most of the people I discussed the Harry/Ginny dynamic with (though, thankfully, not all of them. The important ones remain). And yet, walking into Diagon Alley, and then, later, into Hogsmeade, in a recent trip to Universal, I felt fifteen again, reading Harry Potter for the first time. I remembered midnight lines, dressing up and meeting up people I’d only talked to online to go wait on more lines and see a movie. I remembered the magic, and the awe, and that final chapter, the culmination of ten years of writing for an author, and of waiting, for its fans. And once again, I thought, let me write something like this. Something this wonderful, and complex, and …life-changing.

Perhaps I never will. Maybe I’m asking too much of the universe. Harry Potter has already given me more than one person should ask for. But more than all those things I’ve mentioned above, it’s given me lessons. Life lessons, yes, but also writing lessons. Plan ahead. Don’t yield to other people’s opinions, also. These are your characters, and no one knows them better than you. Take as much time as the story needs. And, above all those keep writing, even when you are at your lowest, even when things look bad, even when there’s nothing to be gained by it. Keep writing because that’s who you are. It’s what you do.

You write.              

                                                                                                                   

And, if you’re like me, you also plan a return trip to Hogwarts, this time, with those people who’d appreciate it just as much. Lessons are fun, and exploring is also fun, but there’s nothing quite like geeking out with people who understand what every little thing means, and how hard it was to get to that point.

So, Hogwarts next year? The butterbeer is on me. 

An open letter to J.K. Rowling:

Hi! It’s been a while. For me, more than for you and I guess I can understand that. If I’d created these characters, I’d have a hard time letting go. Hell, I had a hard time letting go and I was only a mildly obsessed reader.

So, hi, I repeat. I managed to let go, as you probably surmised. It was hard. Your books brought me not only many hours of enjoyment (and countless hours of stupid arguments and assorted drama), but also brilliant friends, and the certainty that I, too, was meant to create some magic. Not the same brand of magic, of course, but my very own kind.

Why am I here, you wonder, after all this time? To be honest, I wasn’t planning on writing this. You can say whatever you want about Ron and Hermione, and, at this point, I’m pretty much immune to it, for a number of reasons, the first and foremost being the very thing that so BOTHERS me when I’m the one writing …

The books are over and done with. There is no going back. You already wrote the ending.

As they’d say, it’s time to let go.

Easier said than done, I know. I imagine you look at the books now and consider literary themes and all that. You second-guess yourself. Maybe I shouldn’t have killed Sirius. Did Teddy really need to be an orphan? Was Dumbledore truly gay?

The truth is none of it matters. Or, at least, it shouldn’t. You did kill Sirius. And I threw my book at the wall and screamed and yes, I cried, but it was the right move. Ron and Hermione were also the right move. Maybe you weren’t thinking that far ahead when you wrote it, maybe you ignored themes and motif and all those fancy words. Maybe, to the Gods of literature, Harry and Hermione made more sense.

But not to us.

And, that’s because of you. You made us believe. You wrote a magnificent story where things don’t always have to end up the way they usually do (and you did it without killing all our faves (SEE, GRR MARTIN, IT CAN BE DONE). You did it, and though it seems like now might be the time for regret, it’s actually the time for merriment.

You changed the rules. You made things different. If you ask me, there are no regrets in that. There’s only celebration.

And, if you really really want to regret something…you might consider turning your attention to the Lupin/Tonks situation. Because, come on …THAT was weird.

Sincerely,

A longtime fan. 

Happy birthday, Harry Potter!

Today is Harry Potter’s 33rd birthday (according to us Muggles on the internet). In a way, it seems strange that he’s turning 33, because, to me, it seems like Harry and I grew up together. I was about 12 years old when the first book came out, and though I didn’t read it right away, to me, as Harry grew up, made friends, found love, and ultimately, triumphed against evil, I was doing the exact same thing. Well, minus the triumphing against evil. That’s a tricky one.

I owe a lot to Harry. It seems strange, to feel a debt of gratitude to a fictional character, I know. But I owe a lot to Harry (and, to JK Rowling). Thanks to Harry, I found the Internet. I’m guessing I would have found it anyway, it was already there and it’s one of those things where you’ll end up knee deep in it, no matter what, but, it was Harry who first led me there. Harry who made me wonder about when the next book was coming out. Harry who first made me test my now iron-clad theory about Google being your friend.

All Harry.

It was also Harry who, after what seemed like centuries of waiting (Funny how, right now, it almost seems like we didn’t wait that long. George R.R Martin takes longer to even think of a name for his next book), pushed me towards writing. I’d always wanted to write. I’d tried, in school, scribbles over here, short stories over there, but never before had I actually sat down to plan anything. Never before had I wondered what words like POV, and passive voice, and, gasp, plot, actually meant.

So, yes, it was Harry. Harry who pushed me towards writing. Harry who pushed me towards reading more. Harry who gifted me with wonderful friends I would have never met anywhere else, friends from all over the world, strange people who you’d never think would agree on anything, and yet, six years after the book came out, still come up with excuses to get together.

Friends who, to this day, still write together, still laugh together.

Today is July 31^st. And, so, today, I say: Happy birthday, Harry. Harry birthday, J.K Rowling. And thank you. 

Thank you.

Harry Potter y el milagro de querer seguir leyendo…

Yo no soy una de esas personas que le debe su hábito de la lectura a Harry Potter. No, yo era una #booknerd consumada mucho tiempo antes de que Harry Potter llegara a mis manos. Los libros siempre fueron mis amigos, y todavía me sorprende que mi experiencia escolar haya sido relativamente normal y que, hasta el día de hoy, pueda decir que sigo siendo amiga de gente que conocí en la escuela. 

Es que yo, debo admitirlo, no era muy normal en la escuela. En las mañanas no podía hablar con nadie en el bus, era mi hora de leer. Tenía una sola regla, si no me molestas mientras leo en la mañana, entonces podemos conversar en la tarde. También recuerdo haberme tomado recreos enteros para leer, hasta el punto de que alguna vez le dije a mis amigos: El primer recreo es para leer, en el segundo podemos hablar. 

Mi amor por los libros no ha disminuido. Normalmente cargo uno conmigo, a veces dos. Leo en cada fila, tranque, almuerzo y, por supuesto, cada vez que tengo que esperar en algún lugar. Pero antes yo era la rara. Ahora cada vez hay más gente como yo.

Harry sí tiene mucho que ver con eso. He aquí un ejemplo. 

Yo leí Harry Potter por primera vez en el 2002. Ya habían salido los cuatro primeros libros y mis padres le compraron los cuatro a mi hermana en una Feria del Libro.  Ella no leía mucho, pero parecía interesada en los libros, y prometió leerlos. Yo me quejé. Me podrían haber comprado algún libro a mí en vez de gastar en cuatro libros que ella nunca leería. 

Además, yo no tenía intención de leerlos. Un niño mago. ¡Qué tontería! 

Claro, en ese momento, subestime mi capacidad de lectura. Estaba de vacaciones y, a la semana, ya me había leído todo lo que había comprado para mí misma. No tenía más remedio que intentar con el niño mago. O ver televisión.

Se podrán imaginar que no vi televisión. Me demoré medio día con el primer libro, aproximadamente uno con el segundo y el tercero y dos con el cuarto.  Antes que se acabara la semana ya era una fanática más.

Obviamente esto hizo que mi hermana quisiera leerlos. Eran sus libros, después de todo. Yo se los estaba quitando. Antes de que yo terminara el segundo ya ella había comenzado con el primero. El resto es historia. 

Cuando nos enteramos de que iba a salir el quinto libro, mi hermana comenzó a leer en inglés. Recuerdo haberme burlado de ella: el libro saldría en español aproximadamente seis meses después de lo que saldría en inglés. Yo iba a saber lo que pasaba, y ella no! 

Leí el quinto libro en un día. A ella le tomó dos semanas, con un diccionario en la mano y preguntando palabras cada página. Pero lo terminó.

Para cuando salió el sexto y nos fuimos a parar en fila a medianoche nos peleamos para ver quien comenzaba a leer primero. Yo gané y, a las 7AM, cuando terminé de leer, la desperté para contárselo. A ella no le hizo gracia. Tomó el libro y se puso a leer. A las 3 de la tarde ya había terminado. 

Del séptimo tuvimos que comprar dos ejemplares. Ya no había marcha atrás. Harry Potter nos había puesto al mismo nivel. Ahora mi hermana lee tanto como yo. Y si, aún seguimos peleándonos libros. Pero ahora lo hacemos en igualdad de condiciones.