The Soul of Wit

"'My friendly, card-carrying cupids!' beamed Lockhart. 'They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines! And the fun doesn't stop here! I'm sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you're at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met, the sly old dog!'
"Professor Flitwick buried his face in his hands. Snape was looking as though the first person to ask him for a Love Potion would be force-fed poison."
(J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets)

I have it on some pretty hefty authority (Albus Dumbledore and Tom Riddle, anyone?) that seven is the most magically powerful number, so perhaps it's no coincidence that when the seventh Harry Potter book comes out on July 21, 2007, it will mark the end of the seven year journey I began the summer after seventh grade.

With things like this, it's always the same: I can't really recall how the books became so deeply ingrained in my life. I liked Sorcerer's Stone when I read it, obviously, or I wouldn't have gone on with the series, but the degree to which my obsession escalated by high school was unprecedented. The seamless integration of quotes with my regular speech! The Harry Potter hangman games during multivariable calculus and physics! The endless phone conversations about what would happen next!

Like all passions, mine cooled. But like true love after the first raptures have died down, its essence endured. (By the way, be honest. When you read the quote, you thought that this was going to be a characteristically bitter rant about Valentine's Day, didn't you? Shame on you!) Sure, if you asked me to recite the opening paragraph of each book, they would no longer be verbatim, and I don't really have the time to do more than one cycle of all the books per year, but I don't think that I'll ever "grow out" of this love. I don't want to, in fact.

We can quibble over what qualifies as "literature" - I don't presume to know - but regardless of what the dissenters might say, the Harry Potter books are not merely children's books or a fad perpetuated by the mindless masses. Once in a while, popular opinion gets it right. The fact remains that these books inspired me to write a 12 page final paper in Spanish, among other things. They are endlessly witty, hilarious, whimsical, inventive, tongue-in-cheek, suspenseful, mysterious... I could go on, but the more I think about it, the more nostalgic I get. This is the end of an era: I can't imagine my life without the anticipation for the next Harry Potter book. I can't imagine that one day, I'll be able to pick up book 7 and read it with the same air of utter comfort with which I read books 1-4 (I'm not quite there with 5 or 6 yet). The notion is inconceivable, and yet so dangerously near to realization.

My only consolation is that I'll get some of my burning questions answered, and the prospect of satisfaction is a pretty strong lure. On the whole, I think that we can expect great things from Deathly Hallows. After all, resolution is a great thing - terrible, yes, but great. Because seriously, WHAT IS THE DEAL WITH SNAPE?