“Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.”
Do you remember the first time you read that line? I do. Walt and I were flying somewhere, where it was I’ve now forgotten. To kill time in the airport we browsed Powell’s Books. I happened to pick up a paperback with a tousle-headed and bespectacled boy flying a broomstick right across the cover. I had already brought a book to read on the plane, but you can never have too many books so I bought it.
I didn’t actually get a chance to start reading until we returned home. I remember turning pages in a pillow nest on the floor of our new home, next to the basement fireplace, and falling in love. I thought, this man (my mistake) is a really good writer. He should tell more stories about this world.
I can’t remember when I found out that there was a sequel (perhaps a year later?), but I remember being thrilled. I read bits and pieces, here and there, as my newborn baby napped.
Some time later, I devoured The Prisoner of Azkaban in nearly one go, sitting in the blue chair by our front window. It was then, and has remained, my favorite of the series.
I bought The Goblet of Fire on release day–perhaps the first book I had ever made that particular effort for. I read it too quickly, then reread the entire series a couple more times over the next two years while I waited for The Order of the Phoenix.
Frustratingly for me, that one came out on a day when I was catering a wedding luncheon.
For 60 people.
At my house.
Walt went out and got it for me and I stole quick glances at the pages every time I brought more dishes to the kitchen. Though it was never destined to become a favorite of mine, I do think that one is one of the most masterfully written of the series. And Umbridge? Best villain ever. I still hate her.
I remember crying at the end of The Half Blood Prince in the basement of my brother-in-law’s home, weeks after moving to Maryland. Our house hunt was going poorly and I missed my friends and familiar places, but I was trying to stay positive. Crying for Dumbledore was a much needed release of tears I was trying not to shed for myself.
And then the last: The Deathly Hallows. I went to a midnight release party with a friend, feeling somewhat sad to leave my six-year-old daughter at home. If only she was a little bit older… I couldn’t wait to share it all with her. I got home late, but spent the rest of the night on the couch in our office, reading until the sun came up.
The next year we moved back home to Oregon and I began reading again, this time aloud to Newt. Over the next ten months, I fell in love with the series again as I experienced it fresh through her eyes.
I was struck by these memories this morning when I learned that today is the tenth anniversary of The Order of the Phoenix. Once again, I was back in my busy kitchen, sneaking peeks at those pages while making wedding dishes and instructing servers.
I love to read. I love books. Yet no other series has stuck with me in quite the same way. I can’t think of many other books that have the power to transport me back to the moment when I first opened their covers–but this one can. Perhaps that is part of the magic of Harry Potter.
I started rereading the series again this morning, for the umpteenth time. Newt came home from camp, fished out a copy of The Sorcerer’s Stone from under her bed, and declared her intentions to join me. We’ll make some new memories together this summer.
Do you have Harry Potter memories? Let me hear them. You know, just as soon as I finish this chapter.
P.S. Want to read along with us? If you are on twitter, follow and use the hashtag #HPReread13. Happy reading!
My then-girlfriend’s little brother was visiting us. He was 12. He was very into Magic: The Gathering and had been trying to get me to play the game with him all summer. Without warning he switched tracks from dogging my every step with Magic cards in his hands to curled up by the front window in a big overstuffed chair with The Sorcerer’s Stone clutched in his cute little hands. He wouldn’t move, wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t go to bed until he finished The Book. This kid was not a reader yet here he was devouring this book.
When he finished, he shoved the book into my hands and said, “Read it. Start now.” I rolled my eyes and postponed it for several days. I finally sat down in the big overstuffed chair by the front window one afternoon and picked it up. I sat there, captivated, unable to eat, go to bed, and even contemplated calling in sick to work so I could keep reading. He was delighted. Two days later when I finished the book we read it again to each other.
Fabulous series. I read my way through it every other year or so.
Cat! That is fabulous. Thanks for sharing. <3
I was checking into a hotel for a conference when I started on Chamber of Secrets. When he saw the book on the counter beside me as I was filling out papers, the twenty-something hotel clerk said, “Aren’t those the MOST AWESOME BOOKS EVER??” He said he had bought them for his younger brother but quickly stole them. We were a whole Harry Potter family, reading it out loud–even when our son was asleep. That is, until Prisoner of Azkaban came out. That was the end of it for the Sugarbear; he still doesn’t do werewolves. But his dad and I ate it up (and still do).