While watching Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets with my partner fairly recently she made an offhand comment stating I’d probably be sorted into house Gryffindor which took me by surprise. I found the remark quite funny as it reminded me of my disbelief when the Pottermore website had sorted me into Gryffindor.
This is all in fun of course if the Potterverse was real and I was a young wizard I’d rather enrol in any other school than Hogwarts which seem hands-down the one if not the most dangerous school in the nation filled with actual monsters, high student casualty and fatality rates, no magic equivalent security cameras on campus and to top it off an army of dark wizards and witches named appropriately Death Eaters(nice) by one of the most powerful wizards(an ex Hogwarts student himself ) deemed so unspeakably evil that grown adults won’t utter his name and that man has obsession with Hogwarts like Guy Fawkes and the Houses of Parliment.
Being a Gryffindor would be living on the edge every day. It all sounds rather fun now after listing it the problems off and Nancy did always say you only live twice but rambling aside these thoughts do make me recall an old memory so let us go back well over a decade and take a peek into the pensieve.
In late August 2000, a younger more idealistic version of me went on my final paper round delivering fresh printed earthly distractions to a few of the residents in my little area of Fulham deciding that a year of this was enough and another child could take on the mantle and generous tips. That morning the foxes still roamed the streets and yipped so loudly anyone within a half-mile radius would know exactly what the fox said. Fulham’s the kind of place where you always say you support the local club even if you don’t follow football as one may face being exiled or possibly assassinated at a later date; nice place though, bring your kids.
Some of the subscribers were awake that day to greet & wish me well on my last round. I recall receiving plenty monetary and physical gifts that day my bright orange carrier bag was heavier returning back than when I left. It was sad to know I would not be able to have as many frequent conversations with members of the community again for some time if ever again with such intimacy. But my back…
Returning to the newsagents I had a quick chat and collected my pay before departing I decided to take a paper home with me as I was always welcomed to do but seldom did. Usually I skimmed through anything digestible while compiling the papers and I was becoming more accustomed to checking my news online. Now I’d like to say the paper I took with me was The Guardian but if you leave me with a glass bottle of red wine I’d probably soon admit it more truthfully it was The Daily Mail.
On the walk home, I finally took the time to read the article headlines and one that immediately stuck out to me was an announcement that an English boy had been chosen to play Harry in the movie adaptation of Harry Potter and the ̶S̶̶̶o̶̶̶r̶̶̶c̶̶̶e̶̶̶r̶̶̶e̶̶̶r̶̶̶’̶̶̶s̶̶̶ Philosopher’s Stone and not only that but there would be a press conference the next day.
The way the media had been in a frenzy all month you’d think one of Willy Wonka’s Golden Tickets had been found with each casting announcement I can’t say I was as hyped as other younger fans but having just finished the Prisoner of Azkaban a month prior though this was welcoming news.
The announcement that Daniel Radcliffe who at the time lived in Fulham himself would be the boy who lived made me raise an eyebrow. While I’d seen him in the area a few times and knew he’d been in some sort of BBC production just a year prior from a neighbor telling me on deliveries I had not seen it myself at all, sure he looked the part but…
So this kid going to be Harry Potter? I had one thought in my mind after I saw the press conference the next day.
Harry Potter support Fulham FC.