I'm Blaming Newsweek

We've been way deep into Harry Potter at our house for the last several months. Rachel has been working her way through the series for the first time and is nearing the end of book 7. Actually, that's about a blog post all by itself. Ah, what the heck, I don't have an editor, so excuse me while I meander. ***Spoiler Alert*** I will be revealing key plot points from books six and seven so, skip down 'til you see JD's name if you don't want to know.

A few weeks ago, after a very tearful afternoon when she first read that Dumbledore had died, Rachel brought me into her room to show me something special. On a little set of drawers that she used as a desk was an odd little grouping of what could easily have passed for junk. The first thing she showed me was a little white angel that was hovering over the whole ensemble. The center piece was a small, wooden, purple box. In front of the box was a tiny ceramic tray covered in multi-colored plastic jewels. They were set out like a token of remembrance. She opened the box and showed me that it contained a piece of paper. On the paper was just one word, "Dumbledore." She had created a tomb for Dumbledore, she told me. I suppose since he only exists as words on a page, it's not that crazy that she would "bury" words on a page. Apparently a person doesn't have to be real to be beloved. I haven't figured that out for myself yet even.

Because she took Dumbledore's death so hard, I've been very vigilant as she's worked through book 7. She took it with her off to Grandma's and I checked in on where she was in the book each time I talked to her. Luckily she was super busy at Grandma's and didn't get to anything too tragic there. She did have this very perceptive comment to make though, "Oh! And Hedwig! Wasn't that awful that she died when Harry was mad at her?!" I'm certain that Rachel and I will be revisiting that insight over the years.

Today I knew that she was getting close to the dreadful chapter called, "Malfoy Manor." I actually hung around in the same room just to be nearby. Sure enough, first she smacked her hands on the table, then she jumped up and continued to read while standing and it wasn't long until there was actual pounding on the table. I was laying (or lying, whatever) on the futon and called her to come over and snuggle with me. She had a good cry about Dobby and we talked about what a good elf he was and that if he was going to die he would want to die saving Harry. Then, crying myself, we read the burial scene together. I read it aloud and she listened and cried.

Whew! After all that emotional exhaustion, I'm actually quite glad that we have JD around. It was just the three of us for dinner and we were discussing Harry Potter in general, quizzing each other and making comments about different characters. We talked about the evil that is Lord Voldemort and how he had a talent for sewing disunity among friends. I thought to seize on that teachable moment. I opened with,
"The Dark Lord of our own world-"

"-Dick Cheney?" interrupted JD, followed by ages of hysterical laughter at his own wit. Eh, what are you going to do? Like I said, I blame Newsweek.