Accio...

...happiness.

It is that time of year for me again, dear readers.  Though it may not be "that time of year" for anyone else.  Actually, maybe no one else deals with this time of the year or...

I should explain.  This will be about Harry Potter.

The one in the glasses, for you non-Potter heads.

Since my junior year of college, every time fall comes around is "re-read Harry Potter" time for me.  I swear, there is a reason.  I did not begin reading the Harry Potter books until the summer right before my junior year of college.  I had nothing against them, personally.  Just never got around to it.  Well, actually, when I was a kid I was discouraged from reading them because my mother had been incorrectly informed about their content by some well-meaning (if mildly paranoid) church moms.  They seemed to believe that the Harry Potter books contained some secret portal to hell that would render me some sort of Satan-influenced deviant.  Because no other children's books deal with fantasy worlds and I would obviously be confused and start actively pursuing witchcraft after reading them due to my inability to distinguish a story from reality.

But I digress.

I do that a lot.  Maybe I should wear this as a warning.

I read the first two books the summer before I left for my study-abroad trip and I liked them.  The characters were interesting and dynamic and the writing, while definitely children's-book level, was used to tell some pretty wonderful stories.  I assumed that I would finish them when I got home because, although I enjoyed them, I didn't really see a lot of opportunity for me to continue reading the books when we would be moving towns every three to four days.

Then, one day early on in the trip, we were let loose for several hours of the afternoon.  We had nowhere to be until meeting up with the group again for dinner.  It being an extremely wet and gray day in London, my friend and I, both needing a little rest, decided to find a bookstore and disappear into it for a few hours.  I began doing my traditional bookstore-browsing and discovered the third Harry Potter book in the children's section.  "Why not?" I thought.  "It will be a good way to pass some time."  I sat in the store and read through that book for the next four hours.

I was hooked.

This book will do that to you.

For the rest of the trip, any book-reading opportunity became an excuse to sneak away and read more Harry Potter.  I finished the fifth book in a bookstore/coffee shop in Oxford, quietly weeping into my sleeve and trying not to snuffle.  I didn't want the laptop-and-textbook-wielding students to know that while they pored over Proust or wrote up economic strategies, I was sobbing in the corner over the death of a fictional character.

I don't cry as pretty as this.

I finished the final two books over Christmas break back home in Montana (accompanied by long bouts of sobbing.  Seriously.  Those books).  I know that everyone who read the books as they came out already had come to terms with the end of the series and such, but I felt a palpable sense of loss as I was finishing the final book.  It was over.

Then, of course, I remembered that I could re-read them.

I think, at this point, I have read the entire series through at least seven times.  Much of it has been in the fall.  I feel the need for Harry Potter at many times, but, for some reason, fall seems to make Harry-Potter-reading necessary for me.  Maybe it reminds me of the first time I read the books and fell in love with the characters.  I just start craving Harry Potter in the fall.

I also crave pumpkin-related things, but that's another topic.

This Potter-fix has great timing this year for...well...a completely nerdy reason.  I am living in Pullman this year with Tyler and Pullman is a tiny town.  We have been incredibly lucky and we have found some great people in the grad department and beyond to hang out with but...I just can't help getting lonely sometimes.

Don't get me wrong.  These people are great.  And Tyler is wonderful.  But I am notoriously bad at getting to know new people.  It generally takes me ages to establish any kind of intimacy with anyone.  And I miss my friends.  I miss being able to talk with people who know me.  Really know me.  And know my background and my family and my personality and just...understand me.  I miss having conversations about real, personal, sometimes uncomfortable things.  I miss having a real community around me.  Maybe I am just spoiled in a way.  I am used to the small town I grew up in, where everyone knows you and your family and what you've been like in school for the past twelve years.  I got that same thing at college by joining an incredibly tight-knit dorm and a great group of friends.  Now, out on my own with my friends scattered around the world I feel...lost.

Different kind of lost, guys.

That's why Harry Potter helps a bit.  I know this is a brand of nerdy bordering on psychotic, but the characters in those books...they feel like friends.  I know they are not friends I can interact with.  I know they are not real people who actually know me.  I am not saying they are a viable substitute for real, living, breathing, talking friends.  But during a time of year where I am feeling lonely, it's nice to jump into familiar stories of familiar people growing and shifting and becoming who they are.  It's nice to feel a part of that.  It's nice to feel that, if these people existed, I would totally hang out with them.  And it's kind of nice to vicariously be a part of the type of fellowship and interactions that they have with one another.

To all my friends, scattered wherever you have been scattered:  I miss and love all of you.
To all of the people where I am now:  I will try to be brave enough to make real friendships with you.
To all the Harry Potter lovers:  Thank you for not judging me too harshly.

They are an accepting group.

Now, if you will excuse me, a book is calling.