So today begins my reread of the entire Harry Potter series! I've finished reading chapter one and surprisingly I have learned a lot about my 19-year-old self and my 9-year-old self. This was meant to be funny and lighthearted and it is so laugh at me as I rediscover my inner child.
Chapter Title: The Boy Who Lived
What I Would Call It: The Dursleys Are Even More Boring Than I Remembered
The story begins with sentence that every Harry Potter fan knows almost by heart or can at least associate with the story:
"Mr.and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much."Even now, 10 years after I've read this book for the very first time, it still makes me immediately hate the Dursleys. It probably makes me hate them now because I already know that they're made of fail, but I can't quite wrap my brain around why I hated them on principle when I was nine. Probably because I was so desperate to fit in and be normal at that age, but deep down I knew that I wasn't and that normal people made me angry for hating on us weirdos.
Moving right along though, I rediscover the reason that I've only read book one twice.
Because I hate exposition. Because it's boring.
And I'm old enough to know now that Jo wasn't writing about boring stuff to make me angry, she wrote about it because she probably wanted to make a point about how mind numbingly boring and run-of-the-mill the Dursleys are so you can later compare it to how extraordinary the story becomes.
Does not make it any less boring.
But I do relearn somethings that I learned when I was nine.
For starters, Mr. Dursley works for a company that makes drills. When I read this book when I was nine and again when I was 14 I could not for the life of my wrap my head around what drills were. Like it was weird British slang for something. Like it was paper or a different way to say law firm. I don't know why it took me turning 19 to figure out that it just means drills, which essentially means that the two times I picked up this book, I forgot drills existed. Not to mention, I have an aunt in the National Guard so my brain immediately goes to like military drills and stuff as opposed to a power tool.
I have issues.
But aside from my blatant stupidity, I read a few things that have stuck with me since reading the book the first time that make me laugh.
The image of Mrs. Dursley having a neck like a giraffe and craning it over fences to spy on neighbors. that imagery was apparently so powerful to me that any time someone says I'm craning my neck to look at something I stop because my desire to not be like Mrs. Durlsey is so powerful. I laugh on the inside every time I do it. It's like a reflex.
Then there's Dudley and it makes me sad that he doesn't want to grow up to be a Canadian mounty because what's the point in having that name if you're not going to continually try to thwart your nemesis Snidely Whiplash?
And lastly, Jo Rowling invents the word "unDursleyish" and I remember that I love her.
But then we go on to hear more about the Dursley and I read the line that made me finish reading the chapter when I was nine: "a cat reading a map." When I read that for the first time, even though Mr. Dursley dismissed it as nothing I knew we would come back to it and that's why I wanted to finish reading it.
Which for me was really painful since the next few pages are all about Mr. Dursley and his sucktastic job. Sure there was the mention of owls and that random wizard who hugged him and called him a muggle (which, honestly, would put me off too), but overall I just could not wait for it to be over and for him to bring up the name Harry Potter again.
And it happens--except Mrs. Dursley calls Harry a nasty and common name. I think people in glass houses shouldn't throw stone. I mean, you named your kid Dudley.
Anyway, the best thing ever happens after that--they go to be and I applaud.
And the something better happens--enter Albus Dumbledore clad in a purple cloak and high healed, buckled boots. My gaydar was totally turned off I was a kid. Not only did I not catch that Dumbledore was gay judging by his fantastic taste in wizard apparel, but my favorite person at the time was the guy who ran the after school daycare I went to at the time was incredibly gay also and I totally missed it.
After Dumbledore catches all the lights and the lights and secures his place as my favorite character of all time (until book 3 whe I fall in love with Remus J. Lupin) he goes back to that cat who turns out to be McGonagall.
Then I see a name that I remember from later books: Dedalus Diggle who "never had much sense."
Dumbledore offers McGonagall a lemon drop but apparently she doesn't think this is the time for lemon drops. Clearly McGonagall doesn't know that it's always time for lemon drops. I wish I had a lemon drop right now.
After this exchange which, made me giggle more than it should have, they mention Voldemort for the first time ever. It feels like only yesterday I couldn't figure out how to pronounce that name. . .
Now, here's when nine-year-old me got really confused. Apparently, Voldemort killed Lily and James Potter but couldn't kill their one-year-old son, Harry. But then again, babies are resilient creatures. Ever seen a baby swallow a dime and poop it out hours later like it was nothing? Have you ever tried to swallow a dime? You can't. You choke and more often than not die. Clearly the same principle can apply here to explain why Voldemort is a bad baby killer.
Enter lovable Hagrid on Sirius Black's (squeal! Fan girl!) flying motorbike, which now just makes me sad.
But on a more important note, Hagrid says the house was nearly destroyed which baffled me. Like the house blew up or caught fire or something happened and Voldemort still didn't kill Harry? The baby didn't die in the fire or the explosion that he caused? Way to be made of fail Voldemort.
They leave Harry with the Dursley and wish him good luck and the chapter ends with "To Harry Potter--The Boy Who Lived!"
And here's to Voldemort--The Man That Let the Boy Live.
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