How COVID-19 made Harry Potter more relatable

I allow myself the pleasure of revisiting the Harry Potter series for one of two reasons: 1) the strong desire to be transported back into the wizarding world becomes too distracting to ignore, or 2) I need to escape my present circumstances.

For the reread I just finished, it was the latter. Starting a new job during a pandemic hasn't exactly been a picnic; almost as stressful as the brief unemployment stint that preceded it. "Hogwarts will always be there to welcome you home," J.K. Rowling says, and I needed home—a familiar home unaffected by personal and world events—in a big way.

But still the coronavirus would not be ignored. Not only had it changed my work life, my home life, and my social life, but it was bleeding into my imaginary life, too. I started seeing Harry Potter/COVID-19 parallels everywhere. 

Book 2, for instance, might as well be a COVID-19 allegory. Hogwarts is threatened by a monster no one understands. Quidditch is canceled. (I feel your pain on a whole new level now, Oliver Wood.) Lockhart is that guy who thinks he understands what's going on better than people with PhDs and decades of experience. Ernie Macmillan echoes what everyone has been preaching lately when he says, "We're all in the same boat."

There are little moments scattered throughout the series that brought me back to reality, again and again. Witches and wizards just trying to get their essential shopping over with so they can return to their homes, away from the boarded up shops and worried shoppers. Dementors making everyone more stressed, worried, depressed. When the trio is camping for months, Harry feels the isolation deeply, even though he knows his isolation is necessary for his safety and, ultimately, the liberation of the wizarding world. Fred and George can't go to work with Death Eaters after them, so they try to run their business via mail order from their aunt's house. 

Art reflects life, and in this case art became an unwelcome prophecy fulfilled. A picture of what life would become when our world was threatened by something so big it would change even the smallest details of our lives. 

But at least in Harry's case, he got a magical education and exciting adventures. We only get the residual effects of a contagious virus, without J.K. Rowling's hilarious asides to lighten the mood. Harry had foes he could go out and fight, while our best defense is to hide, knowing that there will be casualties whatever we do.

But what I envy most about Harry Potter is this: his battles had endings. He left the Dursleys and found friends. Love. He won Quidditch matches, the Triwizard Tournament. He escaped Voldemort several times, and eventually defeated him. He made mistakes and sustained heavy losses along the way, but always, he got an ending.

What we're dealing with right now doesn't feel like a story with an ending. It feels like a new reality that we're just going to have to get used to. People keep talking about "when life goes back to normal," but the normal we remember may be gone for good. 

We're living in unprecedented times. Not the kind of historical moment that captures people's imaginations and inspires novels about time travelers. But the kind that people read about in history books and say, "Boy, I'm glad I wasn't alive for that."

Closing Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows for the last time always leaves me aching. Not to mention reluctant to return to my world. Even more so this time, since the thing I wanted to escape when I dove into these books just over a month ago is still here. Harry's story ended, but ours is still going, frozen in an unending stream of gray days.

Nobody really wants to live during hard times. Harry didn't particularly like living through unprecedented experiences, either. But he survived it. The bullying, the dangers, the pressures, the heartbreak—all of it. And what are stories for if not to remind us of the resiliency of the human spirit? Maybe we don't get an ending just yet. Maybe we have to settle for a simple reminder that we have what it takes to keep going until one day things are better.

It doesn't seem like much. But, as Harry learns, it's "the difference between being dragged into the arena to face a battle to the death and walking into the arena with your head held high. Some people, perhaps, would say that there was little to choose between the two ways, but Dumbledore knew—and so do I, thought Harry, with a rush of fierce pride, and so did my parents—that there was all the difference in the world" (Half-Blood Prince, chapter 23).

I'll leave you with a few more stray thoughts before I resume my Potterless life.

• This reread was unique because I read the UK editions. I figured it was time I experienced the books in their original language. The differences were most prominent in books 1 and 2; by book 4 the only differences I noticed were spelling and punctuation/grammar. For the most part I loved the covers, but I did miss the Mary GrandPré illustrations. Something to look forward to next time.
• My favorites order has been disrupted again. It's now 7, 3, 5, 6, 4, 1, 2. (My last reread left me at 7, 4, 3, 6, 5, 1, 2.) 5-7 were especially good this time.
• My new favorite character is Harry. That boy doesn't get enough love from the fandom. 
• It took me 20 years to get here, but I finally started to develop some sympathy for Percy. Not joining a Percy Weasley fan club any time soon, though.