Why am I cursing one of the foremost Gods of Literature, you ask? Why shake my fist at the generous, amazing, pulled-herself-up-from-poverty-with-a-notebook-and-a-pen inspirational mother of Harry Potter? Because of the Dementors. And the Patronus Charm. And Quidditch. And I scream unto the heavens about the *mumble mumble* Golden Friggin’ Snitch.
How? How is it that one woman can be so creative, such a world builder? It’s Just. Not. Fair. And it shouldn’t have taken me and Montana watching Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban last weekend to come to this realization, but for some reason, but that’s when it hit me.
Think about it. A Dementor. You don’t even need the description, just that name is eighty-two kinds of evocative. And then throw in a description like “I thought I’d never be happy again.” and bang! You’ve got a spectacular boogieman.
Same goes for a Patronus Charm. You knew that thing was hard-core protection before you even knew Harry could produce a stag. Combine all that with the fact that Harry’s Patronus was a stag, too? That’s when I start weeping with the beauty and majesty of her world.
What can I say? There’s a reason she’s a god. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix need to get cued up.