Disclaimer: How dare you suggest such a thing? I
do not own Harry Potter!
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Harry came back today. He refused to speak about
his meeting with Voldemort except to say, "Heís dead," and leave it
He never did like to share his feelings with
Heís always been the quiet one of our threesome.
The straight man of our comedy troupe. Itís really rather strange that Famous
Harry Potter is the most reserved of the Hogwarts Trio, as weíve come to be
called, but there you have it.
Then again, it makes a great deal of sense that we
each have our appointed roles, that we each can be labeled like specimens in
jars. After all, itís so much easier on the storytellers and historians of the
future. So much easier to map out our personalities, each character trait
listed and classified. Thereís Harry, the stoic hero whoís destined for
greatness; me, the bookworm/requisite plucky heroine; Ron, the faithful
sidekick, the Lancelot to Harryís Arthur.
Does that make me Guinevere, then?
Itís always been more or less expected that I
would one day fall in love with Harry. Expected, because those are the rules of
heroic saga, because the valiant hero always, always, gets the girl. The
Hero, accompanied by his Loyal Sidekick and Plucky Heroine,
grimly-but-always-valiantly go off to defeat the Forces of Darkness. They face
Overwhelming Odds but somehow manage to come home, Forces of Darkness
conclusively destroyed, with a song in their collective heart, a smile on their
collective face, and without a hair out of place. (Although Harryís hair is so
messy anyhow, I find it difficult to believe that anyone would be able to tell
the difference, to tell you the truth.) The Hero and Plucky Heroine then go off
to get married, the Loyal Sidekick does whatever it is that Loyal Sidekicks do
in their free time, and they all live happily ever after. Oh, the wizarding
public might know that the truth is far grittier than that, but I think that in
their heart of hearts they believe Ė need to believe Ė in the myth, in
our expected roles. Good will always triumph over evil, the hero will always be
accompanied by his valiant companions and in the end will always get the girl.
Simple. No thought required.
But somewhere in this fairy tale, the equations
went astray. Perhaps the Fates were having an off day.
Did the myth-makers ever stop to consider what
would happen if the hero and heroine were not, in fact, madly in love?
Did they ever stop to consider what would happen
if the heroine and the sidekick fell in love instead?
Because Iím not in love with Harry. I never have
been in love with Harry. And, at the risk of proving myself wrong sometime in
the far distant future, I probably never will be in love with Harry. Heís my
best friend, and I would trust him with my life, but I honestly canít ever
imagine having a romantic relationship with him. Oh, it would be a comfortable
relationship, an easy relationship, butÖ
Let me make a small confession here: Iím more or
less terrified of my emotions. Itís not so much that Iím out of touch with
myself, exactly, but that my emotional problems paralyze me. Feelings have none
of the boundaries that my mind needs in order to function, and that frightens
me. So I push any problems away, hope that theyíll just wander off if I ignore
All too often, people make the mistake of thinking
that Ron is less intelligent than Harry or me. The truth is, even though heís
not as book smart as me or as intuitive as Harry, thereís one place where he
leaves both of us in the dust: When he puts his mind to it, he has an almost
uncanny sense of exactly what is needed most. What fits. Itís no
accident, I think, that heís such a good chess player.
Or that we suit each other so well.
Iím not saying that Ron is perfect; God knows he
can be an absolute prat sometimes. But no matter how much we argue, no matter
how stubborn we both are, no matter how many times he calls me a bossy
know-it-all and I call him an insensitive git, the truth is that I love him so
much it hurts. More than physical attraction, more than understanding, more
than friendship, more than honesty, more than even respect and affection, is a
sense of such absolute rightness that even an emotionally myopic person like me
can recognize. I love him because he engages me body and soul, because heís
willing to give as well as take, because heíll never let me crawl off into an
emotional corner and hide. And if the idea of the heroine and the sidekick
together sends the myth makers into hysterics, thatís just too bloody bad for
Some things are much more important than mere fairy tales.