This thing called Harry Potter

So I am re-reading Order of the Pheonix, having just reread Goblet of Fire, in preparation for book 7 which will hopefully someday be published. :-) I feel like a crack addict, I am not alone.

I was reading along last night and Sirius was telling Harry about 12 Grimauld Place and his family including his brother Regulus when a revelation hit me. I've been wracking my brain since book 6 trying to figure out who R.A.B. could possibly be and here it was staring me right in the face. I jumped up and ran into my wife and explained my theory. She nodded absently and said something like "Hmmmph really? Stupid horde.". Which makes a lot of sense if you assume the first part of the response was for me and the second part for the level 60 Shaman who just ganked her on World of Warcraft.

"I'm going to find out if anyone else thought of this!" I said as I brought up Google. "'Regulas Black' Potter" I typed and my screen filled with information. Ok... so I was not the first person to think of this. In fact, the whole world has beaten this thing to death 2 out of 3 falls while I innocently went about my life. JK has even responded that it might be a good guess but won't confirm or deny it.

The entries on Wikipedia about Regulas were by far the most extensive. In fact, as it turns out, right there amongst their definitions for "Super Nova", and "Komodo Dragon" they not only have a whole page on Regulas but they also have cross references to "half blood", "pure blood", "Black family tree", "Lord Voldemort", "DeathEater", etc.

Although I was happy to get the information I was looking for I sat back for a moment completely stunned. Have the boundaries between real life and imagination blurred so much? If aliens were to one day big up this dictionary would they believe that Hogwarts was real? Is Regulas Black (who was mentioned for all of about 10 lines) just as important as Richard Nixon? Granted all Nixon ever did was become a US President who resigned in shame while Regulas became a death eater for the Dark Lord and maybe even turned to fight him in the end.

I turned to Denise and stated flatly, "These people must have no life." She stirred slightly having just killed a warbling murloc and typing furiously to another "guildie" she was questing with, "What? Did you say something honey?".

I let her return to the real world, and I looked up at the clock. I had just spent 2 hours reading Order of the Pheonix and another 1.5 hrs chasing around on the internet reading about Regulas. Maybe "real life" is the thing we do to earn enough money so we can afford to spend our free time in our imaginations.

Getting old lets you get away with things

When I was 10 years old I went with my Grandma to visit a friend of hers who I will call Mrs. Smith. You can imagine how exciting I thought that was going to be sitting around for the afternoon with two old ladies listening to them talk. I figured the only likely upside would be that old ladies always seem to be awesome at baking, so I was counting on some kind of score in that regard.

Everything started out the way I expected. Blah blah blah. But then I noticed the chess board on a small game table over against the wall. Mrs Smith had been watching me and she asked me if I played chess.

Now I was the chess champion of the 3rd grade. Ok, maybe I wasn't exactly THE champion, but it was a long time ago and my recollection is fuzzy. It's also my story, so I was the champion of the 3rd grade. (I could have decided to say the state, nation, or world at this point and probably have been without anyone challenging me on the statement so personally I think I'm being modest!) At the very least I had played enough chess that my Dad finally stopped winning every game, so I guess I'd gotten pretty good.

"Yes, I play chess all the time", I said with no small amount of pride and chest puffing (see previous paragraph)

"Well why don't we play a game while your Grandma and I talk?" Mrs. Smith replied.

I pulled the table over and we started to play. I figured I would wipe the board with her because she was only half paying attention and I was, after all, the state chess champion that year.

As we played on the conversation continued between Mrs. Smith and my Grandma.

"blah blah blah" Mrs. Smith said

"twitter blah hehe" replied Grandma.

"Check mate" announced Mrs. Smith.

"Yucko blah yehe moo" replied Grandma.

What? I was in a state of mental shock. Here I was a U.S. Chess Champion and somehow I had been beaten by a little old lady. I am certain that I probably betrayed some dissapointment at losing because she offered me a rematch and off we went.

I choose a different opening this time, determined to show no mercy and reclaim my honor. She matched me tit for tat. Suddenly she was in trouble. Her Knight was trapped by my queen and unable to move out of the way. Surely the Knight be lost. She moved her Knight one square to the left like a castle, and said "Your move."

Now this was an illegal move for a Knight, but I was stuck in a quandry. Should I say something? Would it embarrass her? "You can't move there", I finally mumbled. "Oh", she said and moved it back. She moved another piece and I claimed her Knight.

A few more turns and she made another illegal move. This time there wasn't much at stake and I just couldn't bring myself to say anything. I didn't want to embarrass her about her obvious mental lapse. She made a few more illegal moves, each one more blatant than the last, until she finally won the game by moving my own pieces against me. Even then i didn't say anything. How to you accuse a little old lady of cheating?

Now years later I realize that she must have been having the time of her life. It speaks volumes to her self control that she never cracked a smile, and never admitted what she was doing. She just sat there looking innocent the whole time. I'm sure that this story was told in her group of friends for a long time with everyone getting a good laugh at my expense. It warms my heart to think so.

If she hadn't played a perfect game and beat me the first time I might never have figured it out. Maybe her message was not to take myself so seriously. Maybe she was just trying to show me I wasn't as smart as I thought I was. Certainly my head needed some deflating after 3 years of being the all-around North American Chess Champion.

Getting old has advantages

Getting old has several advantages. Take senior discounts for example. Now granted at 38 I just get to feel old but I'm not yet entitled to the discount. But as Jesus said, "You have not because you ask not".

A few days ago I was buying my 2/3 lb bacon cheeseburger with fries and a drink and the nice lady at the register told me my total. I looked her in the eye with my best jedi mind trick pose and said "I think my meal should be free today".

She laughed and said "I can't do that, but I can give you a 10% discount."

"Cool!" I said handing over my credit card. She asked my name for the order and I told her my name was Elvis. (There are a million people named John anywhere you go... so then they rely on last initials, and it is nearly impossible to distinguish between "John F" and "John S" and "John Mpphhsd" in a crowded, noisy restaurant).

"Thank you Mr. Elvis. You have a great day now."

Before I could reply she was already on to the next person in line but I felt like a man carrying a trophy as I sat down with my coworkers. "Guess what? I got a discount!", I said, passing the receipt around. As I launched into my speech about "you have not because you ask not" one of them started to laugh, "They gave you the senior discount. I think they're saying you're old!".

I prefer to think the kind lady at the register simply gave me the discount she would have given the king had he been there. Elvis has left the building.