I stayed up all night last night reading Harry Potter and The Philosopher’s Stone. By all night I mean, until 6am. It’s summer in the UK, so I was seeing the sky get bright around 5am.
I was reading in bed until about 2am, got hungry, strolled downstairs to steam some dumplings and had a full meal at 3am. By 5am I was a bit sleepy, but by then Harry and Ron and Hermione were already halfway through solving the deathly riddles to stop Voldemort from regaining his power and who can stop at that point?!
It was delightful “re-discovering” Harry Potter. But really, I was reading it for the first time. When I first read Harry Potter, I was about eight, still living in Korea, and read the HP books translated into Korean. I was still obsessed and forced my poor brother to come up with magic spells and play with me, but a lot was lost on me, because there is so much wordplay involved and cultural references specific to the UK (like how at a Hogwarts feast there is Yorkshire pudding). Honestly big kudos to the translators who did their best translating these books all around the world (what is Yorkshire pudding in Arabic, for example?)!
During my first trip to Edinburgh two years ago, I had the idea that I would read the entire series again; it would feel special to read them where it’s from, in a way. I bought the book set not long after that, but never came around to picking it up until now, when I’ve had the time and peace of mind and nothing “more important” to do than to go on fabulous adventures with these wizards and witches.
Reading it again as an adult, I found it totally transported me to a different world yet again, and made me cry with the acts of bravery and friendship and the unshakable belief in doing the right thing.
One of the parts that made me choke up:
“Out of the corner of his eye he saw the fluttering banner high above, flashing Potter for President over the crowd. His heart skipped. He felt braver.”
This is the scene where Harry is about to step onto the pitch for his first Quidditch match, overwhelmed with nerves, then sees that his friends are there cheering him on, and that makes him feel braver. Honestly I am crying even now. What a beautiful portrayal of love and loyalty and how they make you whole.
I think as a child I didn’t have an appreciation for the nuances of each character or been able to empathize as much with them. Harry is a literal orphan! Does anyone know an orphan personally? I have met children adopted by new parents who chose and love them, which is the closest thing I can think of. What is it like to be an orphan growing up being despised by your caretakers? Where the thing you want the most (what the magic mirror shows) is to know what it’s like to be loved by your mom and dad? It really is a beautiful story of this boy who stay brave in the face of trying difficulties and his friends who help him stay brave.
Also, the notion of the invisible yet omnipotent parental love. I left home (Korea) when I was fifteen with the help and support of my parents, and have only been able to see my family once a year for two weeks since then. That was back in the 2000s where cell phones weren’t really a thing (I got my first smartphone as a freshman) and I was using international call cards to call my family (super retro, you call this number and load money and minutes to then make calls with). It is amazing how I can now just press a button on kakaotalk and my parents’ faces show up.
But even with the distance and the inevitable implications on my relationship with my parents over decades, and even as they embodied the flaws so typical in Asian parents who sacrifice so much of themselves for their children, I always knew I was deeply loved by them and yes they would throw themselves in front of any danger to save me without thinking twice. I’m crying again. Parental love is really a beautiful and complicated thing (Would Harry still have liked his parents as a teenager? Questionable.) but this truth is a home I can come back to. The undeniable truth that I am unconditionally loved (even though I might have felt like their love was in fact conditional when growing up) and that is a very lucky thing to be able to say.
Thinking about my parents make me tear up immediately and I am not sure if that is normal.
I’m excited to continue the HP series. I feel so lucky because I don’t really remember what happens in each book. I also had stopped reading the books as they became thicker and only watched the movies and was lost on the plot, so I am so excited to experience them for the first time again. I am also planning to go to the Harry Potter World in Watford. Well actually I just bought my ticket. Have to take advantage of living in London, loads of people come from abroad to go! How lucky am I?