Note: The following entry–and all entries on my blog, for that matter, will not contain spoilers regarding the final book in the Harry Potter series, so please feel free to read on!

Note deux: This is part III of a three-part series; please scroll down and read the first two installments if you have not already done so!

Inside the magical world of reading books. . . .

As a teacher, I find that how I read is not how I encourage other teachers to “hook” their students to read books, especially the reluctant readers. I’m sure you all know the drill: Look, study, and discuss the cover. Make predictions. Read the table of contents carefully. Study any artwork that might exist in the book, etc.

All that prereading stuff I throw right out the window, especially when it comes to good ol’ HP.

Actually, Rita turned me on to this way of reading back when Phoenix was released. I was too much in teacher mode when I saw her reading it, and I threw out the autopilot questions: What do you think will happen? Did you get any clues from the Table of Contents? What does the cover mean exactly?

Ugh. How embarrassing as I look back.

She closed the book (she was reading under the sunlight as she stretched out in her summer chair) and held a grin longer than I thought normal. She seemed to be searching for the right way to put it.

“I don’t read like that at all,” she offered, shielding her eyes from the sun. “Why would I want to ruin the experience?”

It made total sense to me. Why do I want to predict? Why do I want to think I know what’s going on at all? Let the words lift their meaning from the pages, one letter at a time, just as they were originally placed there.

From that day on, I’ve read like Rita.

So, when Tonks and I got home, clinked our books in victory and cracked the spine ever so delicately, I bypassed the Table of Contents quickly, having no desires at all to read a single word of it.

I turned to the dedication, and read it. Turned to the two opening quotes, read them twice, then turned to Chapter 1. Read the title at least three times. Took two deep, deep breaths. . . .

And began reading.

I was careful not to look ahead to the next chapter; I refused to have any knowledge of where this chapter might take me. In fact, I resented some of the titles that seemed a little cryptic, wondering when I would get to the heart of the chapter (when I knew all along that, in this book, the heart was in every page, every word, every stroke of every letter).

I read with Goblet, Phoenix, and Half-Blood right next to me, constantly referring back to critical and relevant passages that mattered to what I was reading right now.

I avoided human contact as well. I could not trust my wife or my daughter, either. My wife was on the computer all day, working. But in the process, she was informing me of all the HP spoiler pages and spams she was being bombarded with. My daughter, at one point, was nearly 100 pages ahead of me (I caught up eventually and finished a few hours earlier than she), and I feared that she would blurt out a shriek, a gasp, or even a single tear, and it would rip at me to not know what was happening.

So, I was nice to both of them. Paid attention to them about all things Non-HP, and was a good boy, if you will. My greatest fear was in our few excursions out of the house.

Now I know what a panic attack must feel like.

Like an undercover agent, I was constantly stalking relatively empty aisles, practicing self-occlumency to blur out any discussions or comments that I might overhear, without any warning whatsoever. I would dash in and out of grocery stores, order carry out, have food delivered. Anything at all to keep the outcome of the book a genuine surprise for me.

It worked. When we were finally done for the day, I sat at the dining room table, pushed away any and all appetite, and recommenced reading.

I suppressed my own gasps and exclamations, but I cannot hide the way I feel right exactly now, just as I had felt when I had finished the book: Sorrow for the end. Sorrow for the parting of the ways. Sorrow for the deaths and the destruction. Sorrow for it all.

When I finished the book, I closed the cover with, again, great reverence, and smiled. I did it. I actually did it. I had worried for so many months–was it really years?–that this moment would be stolen from me. Some fool in the grocery store, at the gas pump, even on the television would certainly blurt out some terribly important news about the book, and I would be forced to read through to an ending that I already knew much about.

I hope, in the coming weeks, to talk about some of the lessons I learned from Deathly Hallows. Until then, though, I leave you, Constant Readers, to your books to enjoy and savor. There will be plenty of time to share words of what-ifs and why nots. Until then, I shall do my best to inform, entertain, and persuade about the things that matter to me the most outside of the Harry Potter World. . . .

as always…………………………………….rvw

(Note: The following entry–and all entries on my blog, for that matter, will not contain spoilers regarding the final book in the Harry Potter series, so please feel free to read on!)

(Note deux: This is part II of a three-part series; please scroll down and read the first installment if you have not already done so!)

Thursday evening, after picking up Mad-Eye’s jacket for a mere $37.50, we went directly to Party City in search of an eyeball.

I didn’t know exactly what I would find. I knew I needed something that was big, but not bulky so that it would protrude too far from my face (after all, I wasn’t going for the avulsed-eye look). Once again, just as had been the case with the jacket, the eye found me.

Or, rather, it found my wife.

When we entered the store, my wife and I split up; I took Tonks and she took the younger two. Within 10 minutes, my younger daughter–a convincing Hermione in her own right–found me, clutching a bloody eyeball in her hand.

“We found it! We found your eyeball!”

Sure enough, she held the eye in her hand, a glow-in-the-dark superball that was easily the size (and the worth at this moment) of a golden snitch.

We paid the buck for the (eye)ball and left the store. On the way home, I realized that, even after I cut it down to size so that it bulged from my eye socket just like Mad-Eye’s, I had to somehow attach it to something that would hold it in place. When we got home, I dug through some of my old things I keep carrying with me every time we move, and I found the perfect leather strap from an old, old camera that used to be my mother’s.

But how to attach it?

Friday, the next morning and the day of the launch, I took the severed eye and leather strap to the final day of the class I had been teaching all summer. The same wonderful person who gave me the 50% coupon for Goodwill was also an art teacher, and she did her own magic to make the leather strap stick on to the severed rubber eyeball. A few pieces of duct tape and three thumb tacks later, and I had a Mad Eye.

Finally, the flask. After class ended, Tonks and I went to Michael’s Arts and Crafts, and, just as it had happened all along, we found the perfect flask among the scattered Halloween merchandise they were frantically putting on the shelves, as if they had only hours left before the big holiday. Tonks found it, actually. It was a potions bottle, amber-orange, with silly stickers on it and a cork plug. We bought the flask, along with a bottle of Goo Gone, and headed home.

At 10:11 p.m., Friday night, I got dressed. My two younger children were scared of me, so I guess I was pretty convincing. For good measure, I filled my flask with Coke Zero and grabbed my walking stick. With Tonks by my side, we headed to Borders Books in Timonium.

When we arrived, there were already hundreds of Harry Potter fans walking in and out of the bookstore. Some were in costume, but most were there to just get their books and be a part of the hype. My greatest fear had always been that, just as had been the case during the Half-Blood launch party, some idiot or idiots would shout out the ending of the book. Tonks and I considered seriously whether we should arm ourselves with iPods, but we decided we’d take our chances.

We both left the car and approached the madness in full character. It was unbelievable. Everybody was staring at us as we walked up the stairs, and immediately I found myself in complete character. I reached the top step, asked a kid what he was looking at, and pulled the flask from my jacket and took a sip. We walked into the store and stood in line to get our wristbands, where we waited for maybe 20 minutes.

During that time, we spotted our old neighbors, who had dressed up as well. The mom dressed as a very convincing and beautiful Rita Skeeter, and her daughter was a lovely Hogwarts student. I screamed “Hey, Rita!” over the heads of muggles and wizards and witches, and she turned immediately, in perfect character, and lowered her black glasses.

At first, I don’t think she recognized us at all. She walked a little closer, and then it dawned on her that it was us. Immediately, we talked as if we were really Mad-Eye and Rita, me with my eye all crazy, and her with her green quill, scribbling away like crazy.

I finally reached the table where we were to get our wrist bands, and as soon as put them on, I looked at the poster by the table. It showed the order in which the books would be distributed. Rita had a blue bracelet; Tonks and I had bright pink. Out of the six colors, Rita and her her daughter were in the third group, and she had heard that blue-bands would get their books around 1:30 or so. Tonks and I were in the fifth round with our pink bracelets, like most everybody else around us. If Rita wasn’t getting her book until 1:30 a.m., I was sure we’d be there until at least 3 a.m., if not later.

Tonks was a little disappointed that we had already missed some of the games, but we had fun nonetheless walking around in character. As we zig-zagged around the store, people kept stopping us, asking for our picture. We stayed in character, posed with confidence (not to mention an attitude), and then finally made our way to the front of the store where they were holding the costume contest.

Rita, her daughter, Tonks, and I all were looking forward to this part of the launch. We dressed up for fun, but being able to participate in the contest was a nice way to pass the time as we waited for midnight (and 1, and 2, and eventually 3 a.m.!) to roll around. The prizes weren’t bad, either. The “kind and queen” received $10 Borders gift cards and the right to receive their books precisely at 12:01 a.m.
The younger kids went in the first round. By far, they comprised the greatest number of witches, warlocks, death eaters, and aurors. Rita’s daughter did well but did not advance to the final round.

The second group of Potterians then went, ages 11 to 15. Tonks was in this group, and she too did well but was beaten out by a very convincing Hermione.

Then the final group went: ages 16 and over. They were doing elimination rounds of five characters at a time, so Rita and I decided the best strategy would be to go in different rounds, so as not to compete directly with each other. The strategy paid off. I went first and won my round; then Rita went, and she won her round as well.

In the semi-final round, Rita and I stood next to each other, as the voting began. We both stayed in character as people cheered for us, I thought that it came down to three of us: Mad-Eye, Rita, and a woman dressed perfectly as Bellatrix. Unfortunately, the Emcee didn’t agree. Rita and two other contestants were dismissed, and it was down to just Bellatrix and me.

We turned and faced each other. She flaunted her accomplishments as a Death Eater, and I told her that her evil days were numbered.

In the final round of voting, the audience applauded strongly for both of us. In the end, though, the judges deemed me to be the winner. I turned to Tonks, who was just absolutely beaming.

“I knew you were going to win! I just knew it!”

We hugged as cameras continued to snap pictures of all of the contestants, and before we knew it, we were being escorted to the front of the line.

At 11:59 p.m., as Tonks and I waited desperately to receive our copies, a tall, not-in-costume woman resembling Olympe Maxime grabbed my leather jacket and shouted to the Manager: “I’ve been waiting an hour-and-a-half in this very spot. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let this guy cut in front of me.”

I looked to Tonks, still in character, and asked for her wand. I pondered what spell to cast on her, but I never got the chance. The Manager intervened immediately and informed the towering woman that we had, indeed, won the costume contest and that we would be receiving our books first.

Olympe was not very happy. She stomped back in line, and I told Tonks to put her wand away.

At 12:00:50, we counted down the last 10 seconds. at 12:01 a.m., the boxes were slashed open, and we were given our books–the very first copies to be pulled from the boxes marked DO NOT OPEN UNTIL JULY 21, 2007. We gave hugs and kisses to our friends who were there, and immediately we stole away into the night, passing by the thousands of Potterians with colored wristbands, all standing in their respective lines weaving in and out of the store.

We did it. We sat inside the car, turned the ignition and checked to make sure the radio was turned off. For the next 48 hours, we would continue to be in our media blackout (this we started Thursday morning, upon learning that our own Baltimore Sun was the first of only two papers in the United States–the other being the New York Times on Friday–to review the book before its release). We had escaped the danger of drive-by idiots shouting spoilers as we waited vulnerably in line. All we had to do now was avoid all contact with the outside world until we finished reading page 759.

By 12:13 a.m. we were home. We sat down, clinked our books as if they were glasses filled with champagne, and opened the cover.

It was time to read.

Part III of this series will be posted at 5:00 a.m. on Tuesday, 7:24!

(Note: The following entry–and all entries on my blog, for that matter, will not contain spoilers regarding the final book in the Harry Potter series, so please feel free to read on!)

THAT, my friends, was probably the fastest I’ve ever read a book. If you want to discuss any aspect of Deathly Hallows or the Potter series in general, please please please email me off-blog (theoldmanse at gmail dot com), and I’ll be happy to dive deeply with you….

To begin with, you need to understand this: I’ve been waiting for the launch of this book since–well, since the launch of Half-Blood. Nothing could have prepared me, though, for what has happened over the last forty-eight hours.

Leading up to the midnight launch on Friday night/Saturday morning, my daughter, Holland, and I had been planning our costumes with great detail. There was never a question of whether we were going to dress up for the occasion; the question was, who would we be?

One look at my daughter, an 11-year-old, and immediately a younger Tonks came to mind. She’s got the look, the attitude, the fun-ness about her–everything. So Tonks it was. She was all punked out with the black knee-length lace tights, the mini-skirt, and the multi-colored hair that changed depending on how it hit the light just right. She looked awesome.

There was no question in anybody’s mind that I was made to be Mad-Eye. Designing my costume, however, took a great deal of effort. I knew I had to find some key pieces of clothing (and accessories) to be a genuine Mad-Eye: the leather jacket, the flask, the cane, and the roving eye.

The leather jacket found me the Wednesday before the launch. All I needed to do was show up at the right place. I didn’t own anything that resembled Mad-Eye’s black jacket, so I decided to hit our local Goodwill store. Within three minutes, it had found me. Mixed in with all of the other miscellaneous jackets was this long, black, leather coat, adorned with many zippers and silver snaps, AND it was my size–not an easy find, to say the least. I tried it on, turned to Tonks and my wife, and they both agreed: that jacket was convincingly Mad-Eye.

The price tag was the only drawback: $75. I wasn’t prepared to pay that much for something I’d probably wear for the Deathly Hallows launch and for Halloween. I put it back on the rack and pouted. When I told my wife how much it was, she thought that it was too much money to spend on such a costume, despite how Mad-Eye-ish it was.

I went to the counter and pleaded my case; with a hint of sympathy, the manager smiled and said that all prices were final. She picked up a little card and waved it in the air. “The only way I can discount your jacket,” she said, “is if you have a discount scratch-off card.”

“May I have one?” I asked, instinctively.

“Certainly. They’re free with every purchase.”

I looked around the store. There really wasn’t a single thing I wanted here, except for that jacket.

I thanked her and we left.

I was a bit defeated walking out of there without the jacket I knew I was meant to wear. Just like Harry knew which wand was his in his First Year when he went to Ollivander’s (”the wand chooses the wizard…“), so I knew that this jacket was meant to be Mad-Eye’s. Driving away from the Goodwill store, I plotted how I might justify spending the $75.

In my real life, I was just finishing teaching a four-week, six-credit graduate course on the teaching of writing, and I had just been paid 50% of my salary. The money was there in the bank. I had not treated myself to anything during the past four weeks, and I decided the next day that, whether it was sensible or not, I was just going to buy the damned thing.

That night, and early the next morning, I plotted possible ways to knock $30 off the price. I dreamed of intricate stories of helping neighbors in need who just lost spouses, jobs, the whole lot. All they needed was this one jacket….can we work something out, here?

I talked about it with my grad students on Thursday, and they all agreed: that jacket was meant to be mine. I swallowed hard, thinking of the cost, when suddenly one of my grad students shouted “Wait!” and dove into her purse, scrambling frantically.

“Maybe. . . Just maybe. . .” she kept saying as she dug deeper and deeper into her bag. Finally, as many of us stood around holding our breath for reasons we didn’t really understand (I’m telling you, this was a very dramatic moment!), she pulled a card from her bag and shouted, “YES!”

I walked over to her and she placed the card in my hand. It was a little creased, and the edges had worn off a bit. I turned it over and looked at the front, where she had already scratched off the hidden discount.

“FIFTY PERCENT OFF!!!”

I screamed, too. I couldn’t believe that she had just saved me nearly $40! I gave her a big hug, tucked the card securely in my pocket, and quickly moved on to the next quest: building a Mad Eye. . . .

Part II will be posted at 5 p.m. today (Monday, 7/23)!. . . . .

Alright, Potter fans: The time has finally arrived. We’ve spent the last year or so speculating the various outcomes for book seven, the last. We’ve analyzed both the UK and the US dust jackets for Deathly Hallows, searching for elusive clues that might give us some indication of just who might not be standing when that final page is turned. We’ve even overturned various websites in search of the most probable theories that we feel most comfortable defending.

Time to log off. Hang up. Disconnect.

Time to return to our Potter pods and do what we do best: read.

I’ve read and reread books 1-3 the most, with the last 200 pages of Goblet close behind. But it is in books five and six that hold the greatest of clues, and so I have begun the process of rereading these all-important prequels to the unprecedented finale, a book’s release that will not be rivaled in our lifetimes.

And so, here we are.

I find that many people don’t grasp the significance of these remaining six weeks. We are a part of literary history, a 16-year relationship that we know will end–but not how–on July 21. With the exception of novels that were published serially in papers and magazines by Arthur Conan Doyle over a century ago, attempted again late in the 20th century by greats John Saul and Stephen King (not in magazines but in the trade paperback market), nothing has approached this moment in this literary century.

And the great news? There’s still time to be a part of it–even if you haven’t read a single Potter book.

We’ve got about 40 days before the release of the final book. Here’s my recipe to jump in and join the fun in this historical release.

1. In the next 7 days: Rent (if you don’t already own them!) and view the movies for books 1 through 4. Although much is left out of the movies simply because of time constraints, they still do a good job of carrying the story’s main conflict, even considering the fact that each has been directed by a different director.

2. In the 4 days following: Read the last 200 pages of Goblet of Fire. Trust me. It’s that important that you read what they didn’t put into the movie.

3. In the 15 days following: Read Order of the Phoenix. Take notes of the characters that are mentioned early on, as they become integral parts of the story later in the Phoenix and then in Half-Blood Prince.

4. In the final 15 days before the release of Deathly Hallows: Read Half-Blood Prince with Goblet and Phoenix right by your side for quick reference. These three books hold most of the clues that you need to enter the world of Book Seven, let alone have the confidence to stand in line at midnight to pick up your preorder.

But be forewarned! Bring your iPod loaded with your favorite loud music, because unless you are first in line at your local bookstore, some idiot will find great pleasure in shouting to the hundreds in line who lives and who dies in Deathly Hallows. And that, my friends, would be the greatest of crimes to steal from you the complete and unparalleled joy of being with Harry and the others in this, their final journey in this fantastic series.

I won’t spoil the fun for you….go to www.jkrowling.com, click on the eraser, and poke around to open the door (no more do not disturb sign!!!)….

It all starts with the door at the back of the mirror…..

I cannot believe it!!!!