Thank You, J.K. Rowling

On July 31, J.K. Rowling, that magnificent manufacturer of magic, will turn 51. Oddly enough, she is giving us a gift on her birthday by releasing Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, so we can all discover what happened to our favorite characters 19 years after they graduated from Hogwarts. (Technically, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child is a play, debuting in London on July 30, but the script is being released as a hardback book, and if you’re like me, you’re already planning on calling in sick to work on August 1. Please don’t tell my boss.)

It seems unfair not to give Ms. Rowling something in return, and since birthdays are a good time to tell people how much we appreciate them, I’ve taken it upon myself to write a proper birthday-inspired thank-you note to the woman who brought the Boy Who Lived to our world.

Dear Ms. Rowling,

Thank you for the magic. Not just for the wands, broomsticks, Quidditch, moving photos, phoenixes, apperating, Platform 9 ¾, Polyjuice Potion, Room of Requirement, spells, patronuses, and horcruxes, but also for the sense of wonder and excitement that your stories have created for readers of all ages. It is no small thing to remind cynical adults of a time when they dreamed of flying and dragons and quests, and to give us a way to share those dreams with our own children.

I’m also grateful for your recognition of complexity. Thank you for characters like Harry, Hermione, Luna, and Ron, who remind us that depth and maturity can exist in all of us, regardless of our age; and for Dumbledore, Snape, Hagrid, Voldemort, and Sirius, who show us that grown-ups can be flawed and confused and troubled.

Speaking of characters, I couldn’t ignore the awesome girls and women you’ve created. Hermione, Mrs. Weasley, Bellatrix, Professor McGonagall, Ginny, Lily Potter, Madame Maxime, Tonks, and Dolores Umbridge are powerful in their own right (be it for good or evil) and able to hold their own against the men and boys with whom they share the page. Girls reading these stories can see themselves as the heroines of their own lives, not mere appendages or helpless bystanders. The Harry Potter series emphasizes smarts and a sense of self over looks, to the delight of girls and women everywhere.

Let’s not forget the diversity in your work. Ms. Rowling, your books include and, more importantly, value real and magical beings of all races, shapes, sizes, and abilities. No one is left out or diminished. From house elves to the heirs of noble houses, everyone matters. (Especially the house elves.)

I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge that, for some readers, your books were the first to challenge them to face questions of loss and sacrifice. You refused to create books that sanitized the world or the people in it and treated children as sophisticated enough to navigate those issues both on and off the page. People die in the stories, people do bad things, people make bad choices and hurt each other — and I’m glad for it. It’s real and these narratives give children a safe place to explore their feelings about unfairness and injustice before (hopefully) they face it in the real world.

It all sounds very heavy, but your books are also great fun. You lighten deep philosophical questions with butterbeer, Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, the Weasley twins, floo powder, troll boogers, sarcasm, and an enchanted dining hall. To read one of your stories is to be transported to a place where the joy and frivolity (and pranks) of childhood are celebrated.

J.K. Rowling, I am thankful for all of this and more, but I think your greatest gift to us is permission to reinvent ourselves. You did it yourself — typing a manuscript while your infant daughter slept, persevering in the face of multiple rejections before a publisher took a chance on your magic. You altered your own trajectory and created a touchstone for an entire generation. But it isn’t just your improbable story that inspires. Your characters have equally compelling journeys. We watched them change from orphans to heroes, bookworms to witches, bullies to protectors — often through a series of painful but purposeful choices. You encouraged us to believe that the arc of our lives is dictated by our own internal compass. We can pick friendship over animus, loyalty over self-interest, and good over evil.

And if you have given us any one thing, it is the shared understanding that we can each decide who we are and who we will become. For that, really cool magical animals, and ear-wax-flavored jellybeans, thank you, J.K. Rowling. We all wish you (and Harry) a very, very, very happy birthday.

Yours Sincerely,
Devon Corneal
Ravenclaw Hopeful