Happy Thursday!

Why did I not write on Sunday? Well I had a bad start of the day and ultimately did not feel like writing. So I decided to take a break. It turns out that breaking habits is as difficult as forming them. As the day descended, I got all anxious about missing my writing streak. Writing was hard, letting go was harder. I still chose the harder option.

It did not feel good, missing for the first time in two years. But this is something I’d like to learn to get comfortable with. I wish to be consistent, not paranoid! I have enough evidence, I keep reminding myself, to take a break without the fear of losing my interest in writing. I can keep walking even if I stumble on a step or two.

Now with some comforting affirmations out of the way, the question is why am I writing today? I could write this issue on Sunday, now that I’ve effectively broken my streak. Well today, I just felt like writing. I have something to say :)

I finished the third Harry Potter book today, The Prisoner of Azkaban. My friends were right, the books are way better than the movies. They embody the subtleties, the emotions, the tiny winks and the one second pauses, that a paced up 2-hour film can’t. What’s even better, I feel, is that I’m listening to the books instead of reading them. Stephen Fry is such a talented narrator, it’s hard to believe that one man is modulating the voices of all the characters. It’s a joy to listen to his narration, as much as the books themselves. I highly recommend trying these books from Audible, even if you’ve read them already. It’s a whole different experience.

Apart from all the magic and story chills, what I absolutely love about Harry Potter is the comfort it provides. There are so many points in the story when it feels like the book is wrapping its arms around you. I won’t talk about all of them, I don’t remember honestly. But here’s what I felt today, right at the end of The Prisoner of Azkaban.

The story started with a permission form that Harry wanted his uncle to sign so that he could visit the Hogsmeade village on the weekends. It’s a subplot, nothing really to do with the main story of an escaped convict looking to murder Harry. But over the course of the book, this plot is brought up several times, highlighting the helplessness of a 13 year old boy who’s left behind at school while all his friends get to go out and enjoy. The helplessness of missing it all out over a stupid form. Being made to feel again and again, that he’s an orphan, that he has no one.

This subplot continues through a big part of the book, but its weight isn’t revealed until the very end. Post climax, when Harry is returning home, he receives a gift. A form, giving him the permission to go to Hogsmeade, signed by his now godfather, Sirius Black, that escaped convict.

All year this boy was trying to get the permission, and now he’s finally got it. He can now go to the village with his friends. But it’s not just that. This permission form is more of a gesture that now Harry has a father figure who’s ready to take his responsibility, someone he can depend on. It’s a statement that now, Harry is not alone.

Right from the beginning, when you’ve witnessed so much hatred, irritation, anger, and loneliness through Harry’s eyes, this resolution feels like a much needed hug, it’s so incredibly comforting!

Gonna start The Goblet of Fire tomorrow. But I suppose it gets darker from here on?

I like this poem…

Thank you for reading this one, and for being here for over two years now!

I’ll see ya on Sunday,
Aachman