It is no secret that I am a huge fan of the Harry Potter series. Rejecting it at first as pop-culture, malarkey, Americana (yes, I know it hails from Britain), I did not pick up a tale of the young wizard until after the sixth in the series was released. Why I finally picked up The Sorcerer’s Stone, I am still not quite sure. Perhaps it was on a bet or to give it a false shot so that I could mock the uneducated masses who loved it so. The same reason I used to tune in to Rush Limbaugh. Or maybe I was just Confunded. Or Imperiused.
Waiting until after The Half-Blood Prince was probably the best thing for me, because I began devouring the books at such a feverish pace I was worried I might become a reader at the level of one Hermione Granger. When I was through the sixth and then had over a year to wait for the seventh I couldn’t stand it. Sleepless nights were spent on MuggleNet reading people’s theories about The Deathly Hallows. What was it that J.K. Rowling just said? What was it she accidentally let slip? Can I buy her used tissues on eBay? I needed to find out. I slaved for answers like a House Elf.
And I will proudly state here, as I have so many times, that I rightly predicted that the previously unnamed manager of the Hog’s Head was in fact Dumbledore’s brother, Aberforth. I knew this due to a single paragraph in The Order Of The Phoenix. My only great regret was never writing my thought to MuggleNet. But my mom will back me up and not just because she’s my mom. Still, it was like using Legilimancy on J.K. Rowling herself.
When The Deathly Hallows finally arrived on my doorstep (not by owl) I seriously considered telling my grandmother I couldn’t make it to her 88th birthday party because [some ludicrous explanation, probably involving Inferi, a Horcrux and Diffindo]. I didn’t, but I practically Apparated home and then finished the book as quickly as I could, only pausing to weep slightly.
Still, even then, I didn’t realize the truth.
Then two years passed and The Tales Of Beedle The Bard was released. I yearned so hard to see one of the original seven copies. If only I could use Accio. But that was not possible because I am a Muggle, so I waited to get the one I knew I would receive for Christmas (my family is very into the Harry Potter as well). And on the flight (by plane, not broomstick) back to San Francisco, I absorbed it.
Still unaware. I would be enlightened, however, a few days after I returned home.
I was talking to my mom on the phone. She asked me what I thought of Beedle The Bard. This is when I realized it:
“It was OK. The children’s tales were mediocre. Hairy Heart was pretty good. But I got a little upset at ‘Dumbledore’s notes,’ because she wrote for him in ways I didn’t think he would write. For instance, at one point he is discussing Lucius Malfoy and Dumbledore was writing things that were very… libelous. Now, these might have been things he would have said in conversation with close acquaintances, because what human doesn’t vent like that sometimes? But it doesn’t seem to me the thing he would put pen to paper about. His secrets and good nature and all. He obviously would have been thinking about publishing it some day and that is just so not Dumbledore….
“OH MY GOD I am way too into these books. I am an obsessive geek! Like, for real this time!”
The realization happened.
For years myself and my friends would all refer to me as a geek or a nerd, but I knew it was never true. I was faux-geek. I wanted to be a geek, but I am not smart enough to program a computer or build a robot that feasts on human organs. I couldn’t tell you anything that happened in the Star Wars universe outside of the movies (and I haven’t really watched them over a dozen times). I never had a problem with acne.
But here it was, the dawn of the truth. I was (am) obsessed with a magical land and magical creatures and have gotten into real arguments about it. I was actually debating what a fictional character would or wouldn’t say. Why don’t I just join in the Kirk/Picard argument?
Where does this go from here? Will I become Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons? Do I go to Renaissance Fair-style Harry Potter gatherings where we speak in Gobledegook and eat Chocolate Frogs? Are we going to have slow moving wand “duels” where a person will be accosted for using Crucio, or worse, trying to use some Charm instead of a Hex? Will we have terrible “matches” of Quidditch where we run around with broomsticks between our legs while passing around a “Quaffle” that is really a kickball? And how do you recreate the Snitch, really? That would be the toughest part. The snitch is supposed to fly free and be hard to catch. How do you do that?
Look at that! I am more concerned about how to accurately make a proper Snitch-like action than the fact that I could potentially be running around in flowing robes with a piece of wood between my legs that isn’t sexual in nature.
So why not just go all in; accept the truth? Maybe it would be a good job for me to tour around the country in some sort of Renaissance Festival. I could peddle chainmail. “Knights and knaves, come hither to feast your eyes upon the glorious sight of Lancelot’s Finest. The flat world’s greatest metals forged in a way that no broadsword can pierce. Also, wearing it will beef up your pecs in a way the maidens will really dig. But make sure to have a shirt on underneath or else Vaseline up your nipples because it will cause chaffing.”
I could attend Comic-con as a really tall hobbit. I could attend Star Trek conventions as a Tribble. I could just accept the obsessive side that has always been present, but I have repressed to a FanBoy closet. I’ll just kick down the door and run over to my computer to play WoW.
And my solace will be that you, the reader, might have taken in 90% of the Harry Potter references. If you did, and you are honest with yourself, then my geeky coming out might make it easier for you. And we can shamelessly plan a trip to New Zealand for the Lord Of The Rings tour.
