The Bright Processional

Memo to J.K. Rowling

When you whacked Cedric Diggory, that sweet, brave boy who wouldn’t hurt a baby dragon, you almost lost me. I’m not kidding. When Cedric died I came close to abandoning my Harry Potter obsession. But I came back, as you knew I would. I came back the way an addict comes back for the next fix. And you sold me that fi x, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, for $29.99. I enjoyed that fix. At first. It was thrilling. And satisfying. But then came the crash: you killed Dumbledore. I came down from the high and took to my bed. I’m talking fetal position. For how long, I don’t know. Could have been hours. Could have been days. It was quite a fall.

Eventually, though, I became philosophical about it. I remembered what John Garfi eld said to the gangster in the movie Body and Soul: “Whattaya gonna do, kill me? Everybody dies.” Dumbledore was Th e Bright Processional an old man. Really old, like centuries. He had a good run. I thought of what Albus himself said at the end of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. You remember: Harry was bummed about the impending death of Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel, each of them over six hundred years old. Dumbledore said to him, “To one such as you, I’m sure it seems incredible, but to Nicolas and Perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very, very long day. After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.”

Okay, I’ll buy that. (Especially since the Hogwarts headmaster may still be alive and kicking. A phoenix rising from the flames of Dumbledore’s coffin? Who’re you kidding? If that old wizard is really dead, then I’m a Quidditch Snitch.)

I know why things have gotten to this point, why the scuttlebutt says Harry might go down for the dirt nap courtesy of Voldemort. You’ve made it clear in interviews: you’re afraid that if Harry lives, his character will be used in other books, books not written by you. You’re worried that people will try to exploit the cash cow that is Harry Potter by using him in their own stories. You figure if you kill him, you alone control what happens to him.

You figure wrong. See, once you sold the movie rights to the Potter franchise, you took on the twoedged sword that is Hollywood. On the one hand the movies are beautifully realized manifestations of your vision. On the other hand Warner Brothers can keep churning out movies and books and merchandise tieins long after you have stopped writing. Not even you can kill this juggernaut. What’s to prevent someone from using the Time-Turner, which you introduced in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, to send Harry back in time to a period before his death? Bingo!@ Instant book, future movie.

And you’ve heard of prequels, haven’t you? Don’t think for a minute that someone isn’t already writing Harry Potter: His First Ten Years on Privet Drive, detailing the hero’s plucky-orphan decade before Hagrid showed up and announced, “You’re a wizard, Harry.”

I admit it. I’m losing sleep over this. I don’t have a lightning-bolt shaped scar on my forehead to warn me of impending doom, but I’ve got a bad feeling about Harry’s fate. Th e thought of him being bumped off makes me feel like I’ve been hit with a rogue Bludger and thumped by a Whomping Willow. Harry’s demise has become my Boggart—the thing I fear most. I’m counting on you to say “Riddikulus!” and make it go away. If you don’t, bad things will happen.

Relax. I’m not threatening violence. I’m not some Death Eater, and I’m sure not looking to do a stretch in Azkaban. What I’m really worried about is the breakdown I’ll have if Harry doesn’t make it. I may have to be admitted to St. Mungo’s Hospital, shrieking like a Mandrake, and you wouldn’t want that. (Unless, of course, you are the real heir of Slytherin.)

Here’s the thing: I love the kid. There, I’ve said it. It wasn’t easy. It’s embarrassing for a grown-up to admit loving a character in a children’s book. (Some children’s book! Murder and mayhem all over the place.) But see, I love him because he keeps getting up, no matter how many times he’s knocked down. You know what I mean. You brought him into the world.

I’m sending this memo via Owl Post so you’ll get it in time to make any necessary changes to the manuscript of the final book. I’m sorry it has to be in the form of a Howler, but I want you to really hear me on this. And there’s something else I want: keep Ron and Hermione safe, too. You know how much they mean to Harry.