Five Harry Potter Spells I Wish I Could Do

5 & 4)  Reparo and Wingardium Leviosa, because even in a world where (with a lot of practice) I could make a Patronus, I will never be quite as incredible as Slughorn and Dumbledore fixing a trashed house with Reparo Maxima. 

I’m a slob.   There, I said it.  I’m like if Pigpen and the Cookie Monster had a supremely scattered child with the grace and dignity of Philosopher’s-Stone-era Neville. 

I have too much stuff, nowhere to put anything, and my room constantly looks like a Mountain Troll with vertigo stumbled out fourteen minutes prior.  A clever use of Reparo and Wingardium Leviosa would condense a week of work into six hours.  Less, even, if I had a friend along.

 

3)  Expecto Patronum.

There’s something appealing about corporealizing my happy thoughts and sending them to people that appeals to me.  It’s like magical Prozac!  Take 150 millagrams of Expecto Patronum and call me in the morning.

But seriously.  Not a day goes by where I don’t wish that I could send people little (metaphorical) postcards full of happy.

I know it might be a stretch for the mechanics of the spell, but I don’t think it would be too much of a stretch.  After all, as Lupin says, a “Patronus is a kind of positive force, a projection of the very things that the Dementor feeds upon – hope, happiness, the desire to survive.”  A projected feeling is, by its very nature… projected.  It’s out there, and it would only stand to reason that people could feel it.

Especially since Dementors are a metaphor for J.K. Rowling’s depression.

  And Expecto Patronum is already given to modification… after all, people can change their Patronus’ shape (Tonks’ changed from jackrabbit to wolf due to her love of Lupin, and Lupin disguises his own for fear of being called out as a Werewolf).  Dumbledore figured out a way to get them to send messages.

Incidentally, I’m pretty sure my Patronus would be a two-headed turtle (I’m a sucker for the underdog).  Either that, or this monstrosity (SO MAJESTIC).

 

2) Undetectable Extension Charm.

The same charm that made Hermione’s small beaded handbag able to hold basically anything, and, I’m assuming, Mary Poppins’ handbag bigger on the inside. 

If I had the space for ten more bookshelves in my bedroom I could easily organize my life.   Five more bookshelves for books, three for art supplies and various junk-that-will-one-day-be-art (coded by type in little bins), one for costumes and clothes that won’t fit in my coffin-sized closet, and the last one for stuff I’ve made that can fit on a shelf.  I could extend the ceiling and triple my wall space for paintings, plus the Slytherin flag my mom hung up in my room even though I’m clearly a Ravenclaw.

 

1) Accio.

From Accio pill-I-dropped-in-the-grass to Accio that-ring-I-always-wore-in-high-school, Accio-ing things would make up for the fact that Nargles steal all my stuff.  I haven’t even got any mistletoe for them to infest. 

 

Other Thoughts:

I’d be most excited about Herbology.  I love plants like Deadpool loves Bea Arthur.  I make kissy noises at them and babytalk in a way that (apparently) vastly disturbs people and “will be on youtube one day.”  I have a Venus flytrap that I’ve named Philip Seymour Hoffman.  How brilliant would it be to raise a bouncing bundle of mandrake roots?  And two words: dirigible plums.  I need these in my life.

If I could have any potion in the world right now, I’d have Felix Felicis because I just entered my novel into a contest and I feel like my heart has the flu.  It’s like Ron and the spiders all over again.  If you’ve got extra luck to wish, I’m accepting donations of good fortune and crossed fingers.

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Putting the “Care” in “Scared”

I’m basically an expert in childcare.   All of my shirts have been spit-up on. I’ve dealt with surprise night terrors.  I know how to calm a melt-down in 4.2 seconds.   I’ve cleaned up poop from carpet after a potty-training girl decided to sit down diaperless in her closet while I was setting her brother down to sleep. 

I have never been scared by a child.  Surprised, sometimes.  Shocked, occasionally.  Scared?  Never.

Until now.

I was enjoying a well-earned post-bedtime snack of Oreos, standing in the pantry… you know, like a well-adjusted human being.  I was thinking about how tense it can be right after you put the kids down to sleep, especially if they’re old enough to get out of bed.  There’s about an hour grace period where anything can happen.  In my experience, after about an hour you can be reasonably sure that the kids are sleeping instead of prowling upstairs very quietly.

I chew down on my last bite of Oreo and turn around and the three year old is standing behind me.  Not just behind me any old place.  In the very same tile square as me.  Like freakin’ Batman.  I retain my composure even though inside I feel like my stomach is playing freeze-tag with my spleen.  I swallow the lumpy chocolate mush in a gulp.

But wait.  There’s more.  I bring him back to the room and his brother, four years old and sitting up in bed, is caught in the light from the cracked open door.

His face.  It morphs, shifts, deforming in the room.  And his eyes turn white as his cheeks sink in on themselves and he trembles.

My eyes have been known to play tricks on me on occasion.  I like to think of my eyes as two drunk fat fratboys on academic probation.  But I knew I wasn’t making this up.  His eyes….

And as suddenly as it started, he stopped.  It must have been ten seconds but it felt more like a whole episode of a generic crime drama.  My heart was doing dry heaves in my chest.

He smiles, chirps, “I rolled my eyes backwards!”

I mumbled some sort of cheery agreement that my adrenaline-soaked mind refuses to let me recall, and now I’m going to have nightmares and so are you.

You’re welcome.

The Leaky Perk

I watch a lot of Friends.  It’s the default show I put on when I’m trying to go to sleep.  So, I’ll be honest… I’m kind of an expert.  (And in my opinion, yes, Ross thought they were on a break, but he did hurt someone he loved, so he was a total jerk for not trying to make it right instead of arguing semantics.  Ross, it doesn’t matter who was right about what.  If you loved Rachel you wouldn’t be acting like a howler monkey on Adderall.) 

The other night, while I was curled up in my bed next to my massive stuffed Batman, I started to ponder personalities. And I realized I could match up each of the Friends main cast to Harry Potter characters.

friends

Unquestionably, Chandler is the Weasley twins. Chandler’s humor has a more cynical edge than the twins’, but let’s be honest. If Chandler Bing were to appear in Diagon Alley, he’d start causing shenanigans immediately, pockets stuffed with Love Potions, Whiz-bangs, and Fanged Fliers.

I’d like to say that the main difference between the twins and Chandler (his bitterness) stems from their family lives. Chandler was an only child with a complicated family life who covered his embarrassment by deflecting with humor. Defensively, he made people laugh at something else before they could think to laugh at him. The twins were part of a huge, tight-knit family, vying for attention (positive or negative).

Ross is Percy. Definitely Percy. A stickler for rules and what he considers fairness (“We were on a break!” and “You. Ate. My. Sandwich?!“), Ross has a job that most people consider boring, and he is as ambitious as he is bungling.

I know it’s an unorthodox choice, but I’d say Rachel is the perfect Harry. Gutsy (anyone remember when she went out to dinner wearing this?) and not necessarily the smartest of the group, she has a distinct haircut and a lot of heart. Everyone knew who she was in school, even if they didn’t like her, as evidenced in the I Hate Rachel Green Club. This scene reminds me a lot of the ‘POTTER STINKS’ buttons that were handed around during the Triwizard Tournament.

Plus, Rachel being Harry fits in perfectly with Gunther being Dobby. Please! This one doesn’t even need an explanation. He fawns over her, he’s overprotective, he even works in food service.

Joey is totally and completely Ron Weasley. They’re both not very booksmart. They’re both fantastic comedy actors. And they’re both goobers. There’s no other word for it. From Joey’s “Why, God, why, let the others grow old, not me!” to Ron mooning over Romilda Vane and about a gajillion other examples. They both fit the Loveable Doofus Who Can Occasionally Surprise You role in their groups. Let me say it this way: would anyone be surprised if the chick and the duck were actually animagi Death Eaters? Didn’t think so.

Top three reasons that Monica is actually the muggle version of Hermione:
1) She was totally that girl in class with her hand raised all the time. She was Ross’ little sister and had a lot to prove!
2) She wasn’t conventionally beautiful in her youth. Monica was overweight, and Hermione was always described with bushy hair and buckteeth.
3) She’s totally the organizer of the group, keeping everyone on task.

And Phoebe being Luna Lovegood is a no brainer. Both are loopy, some might even say loony. Both lost their mothers at young ages by their mothers’ own hands, though in Mrs. Lovegood’s case her death was accidental. Phoebe has some sharper edges than Luna does, but they both have a childlike aura about them.

Any other ideas? Share in the comments!

An Analysis of Grenade

“Grenade”

Easy come, easy go
That’s just how you live, oh
Take, take, take it all
But you never give

Okay, that’s fair, I was a little selfish during the course of our relationship, Bruno. I’m sorry.

Should’ve known you was trouble
From the first kiss
Had your eyes wide open
Why were they open?
[accusatory background singers go ‘Oooh!’]

Because… that’s how I like to kiss? Maybe I’m dense, but I can’t figure out why that warranted a gaggle of condemnatory young ladies ‘oooh’ing at me. I kiss with my eyes open so I’m Satan’s kid sister. And I don’t tell the world about your weird romancing habits, like how you use, “Want to go to Mars?” as a pick-up line. Oh wait, I just did.

Gave you all I had
And you tossed it in the trash
You tossed it in the trash, you did
To give me all your love is all I ever asked
‘Cause what you don’t understand is…

Bruno, what you don’t understand is I’m just not that into you. Bee tee dubs, “give me all your love is all I’ve ever asked” as if that’s nothing. All my love? All of it? So I can’t love my country, or puppies, or those little chocolates they leave on pillows in nice hotels? Brunsey, baby, you’re starting to sound clingy.

I’d catch a grenade for you (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Throw my hand on a blade for you (yeah, yeah, yeah)
I’d jump in front of a train for you (yeah, yeah, yeah)
You know I’d do anything for you (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Oh, I would go through all this pain
Take a bullet straight through my brain
Yes, I would die for you, baby
But you won’t do the same

…no. I wouldn’t do the same. I happen to enjoy living very much. I fail to see how desiring survival makes me a bad person. It’s not like I pushed you in front of a train or tossed you a catcher’s mitt and said, “Go for it” when I saw a grenade coming.

No, no, no, no

Basically sums up how I feel about this song, Bru-Bru.

Black, black, black and blue
Beat me ’til I’m numb
Tell the devil I said “Hey” when you get back to where you’re from
Mad woman, bad woman
That’s just what you are
Yeah, you smile in my face then rip the brakes out my car

You know I was just joking about the “Satan’s little sister” crack, right? So, you consider me a brake-ripping, abusive harpy because I was (admittedly) a little selfish, and I don’t like you as much as you like me, and I wouldn’t die for someone who I hardly know? Punky Bru-ster, you’ve got to ease up. (Of course, this is assuming this whole verse is metaphor for what you feel I did to you emotionally, since, you know, if I ripped the breaks out of your car I’d be in jail and you’d be dead, probably.)

Gave you all I had
And you tossed it in the trash
You tossed it in the trash, you did
To give me all your love is all I ever asked
‘Cause what you don’t understand is…

I’d catch a grenade for you (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Throw my hand on a blade for you (yeah, yeah, yeah)
I’d jump in front of a train for you (yeah, yeah, yeah)
You know I’d do anything for you (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Oh, I would go through all this pain
Take a bullet straight through my brain
Yes, I would die for you, baby
But you won’t do the same

Don’t. Just don’t.

If my body was on fire
Oh, you watch me burn down in flames
You said you loved me, you’re a liar
‘Cause you never ever ever did, baby

If you won’t even stop, drop, and roll… I can’t help someone who won’t help themselves. Can you say self-destructive?

And, okay, I admit, my bad. I shouldn’t have dropped the l-bomb. But you said “I love you” after we went through the drive through and I was burping up onion rings, and I thought it was a joke and then it was all awkward, and I honestly thought I might grow to love you so I might as well just say it.

But, darling, I’d still catch a grenade for you (yeah, yeah, yeah)

Still? After calling me violent hellspawn on no evidence? No. Not okay.

Throw my hand on the blade for you (yeah, yeah, yeah)
I’d jump in front of a train for you (yeah, yeah, yeah)
You know I’d do anything for you (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Oh, I would go through all this pain
Take a bullet straight through my brain
Yes, I would die for you, baby
But you won’t do the same
No, you won’t do the same
You wouldn’t do the same
Oh, you’d never do the same
Oh, no no no

I give up. I need to go get something that rhymes with “Grestraining Border.”