Labors of Love

"Words are, in my not-so-humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic. Capable of both inflicting injury, and remedying it." -Albus Dumbledore

In crediting this quote, I am conflicted as to whether I should cite the fictional character who spoke the words or the author who wrote them. For many children (and adults) Harry Potter and his world are as real as this one in which we live. My daughter waited and waited for her own invitation to Hogwarts to arrive on her 11th birthday. As I approach the end, I am already mourning its absence from daily life.

I had read the first three books to my older daughter, until she became an independent reader and I turned to reading picture books to her younger sister. Last year, at the invitation of my college-age son who had not read the series, I picked the story back up last year. My goal was to get through the remaining books in 2014. I cruised through The Goblet of Fire, eeked through The Order of the Phoenix and stalled at The Half-Blood Prince, about the time I began copying Anna Karenina. When my son came home for winter break, he told me he had finished all the books. He encouraged (read: endlessly pestered) me to get back on track. I knew I couldn't complete the last two books, each as long as a Tolstoy novel, by the end of the year, but I didn't care anymore about a deadline. I requested both books on CD from the library and let Jim Dale read to me while I carpooled and ran errands.

As of today, I have fifty pages remaining in The Deathly Hallows. My reading has ramped. I go back and forth between reading on the page and listening in the car, having borrowed my daughter's hardback copy after she texted me to say, "Why are you sitting in the driveway? You could bring the CD inside, you know?"

The reason I continued to listen fifteen minutes or more after arriving home? I was crying. Harry was digging a grave for Dobby, by hand. He didn't need to; he could have used magic. He certainly had more important tasks to complete in order to defeat Voldemort. But Harry knew that some things had to be done this way.

" 'I want to do it properly,' were the first words of which Harry Potter as fully conscious of speaking.

'Not by magic. Have you got a spade?"

I was not surprised when Mrs. Weasley magically folded laundry, enchanted knives chopped vegetables, and food floated to the table. I am sure that if I had magical powers, I would use them much the same way as this fictional mother of seven. But Harry's decision was something else entirely. Dobby, a free elf, willingly gave his life helping Harry and his friends escape Malfoy Mansion. He loved Harry, and Harry needed a way to show his love in return. A Labor of Love. Blood, Sweat, and Tears. These are what we give when we love someone and need a way to show it.

So Harry dug a grave. Sophie copied, and recopied, Leo's manuscripts. Where is the magic in that?

In the Words, Dumbledore told us. One word in particular. Love.

 

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