The Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows premiere is only a month and a half away and I couldn’t be more excited. Confession: I’ve never before been to a HP midnight premiere. This will be the first time. We’re getting the whole gang together for it. Costumes will be donned, the series re-read, and tickets purchased a month in advance. Look out, Georgetown, you’re going to get invaded by muggles who wish they were wizards.
This summer I confessed to my dad that when I was eleven I waited for my (seemingly inevitable) acceptance letter to Hogwarts. Clearly, it never came, seeing as how I’m sitting in my GW dorm room, but whatever. Maybe I was a little naive. Of course I wouldn’t be accepted to Hogwarts. That school is for British students. And no matter how much I wish I were British, it wasn’t going to happen. My dad mocked me for a very, very, very long time, but I don’t miss having that hope. I did, however, ream him for not having made me a fake letter and having it delivered to me. Would that have been cool, or what? If I ever have kids and they get addicted to Harry Potter, I’m for sure creating a fake wizarding school for them to be accepted to. Or I’ll kindly explain that they’re squibs. It depends on how much I like them.
Regardless, the hope that one day, maybe, I would board the Hogwarts Express with all of the other muggle-born students never really died. Sometimes I catch myself wondering: did the letter just get lost in the mail? For now I’ll just sigh and keep studying my political communications. Maybe one day I’ll be able to work as ambassador for muggle-wizard relations.