July 16, 2005:
Side eyes: the kids are suspicious.
In the sea of Griffindor red-and-gold I'm an island — a very tall, grown-up, gray-haired island — of Slytherin green-and-gray.
Indeed I stand out for many reasons. I'm the only adult not accompanying at least four excited but sleepy-looking children. I'm the sole participant wearing a Slytherin scarf; actually I'm the unique grownup wearing a badge of any kind. I'm twice the height of the tallest of the kids and likely the oldest of the adults. I'm also friendly, and excited, while most of the grownups are bored, impatient, or exasperated, displaying their martyrdom as clearly as I display my enthusiasm.
It's likely that last which leads the bravest of the kids, a beautiful little ten-year-old Amerasian girl, after much examination and whispering among her companions, to inquire politely but firmly regarding my loyalties.
"Are you Slytherin, then?" she says, pointing to my scarf.
I shake my head no. "I like green with gray," I tell her. "They've always been my favorite colors, since I was little."
She accepts that explanation. All the kids do. In fact, I'm now perceived as special. I'm not here for someone else. I'm here for myself, because I want to be. Plus I'm bravely displaying contrarian insignia, and kids can respect that. Friendly conversations start on all sides: they've decided I'm cool enough to talk to.
They're bursting with impatience. The youngest rub sleepy eyes; someone awoke them after bedtime, so they could participate tonight. Some stand on tip-toe, looking over friends' shoulders to see what's happening. Others talk away the wait.
"What house do you think you'd be placed in," the fearless girl asks me, "if you went to Hogwarts?"
"Well," I answer, thinking it over. "Probably not Gryffindor. I don't think I'm brave enough. I think, probably Ravenclaw. They value intelligence above other qualities. I'd make a fair Ravenclaw. But then, so would Hermione and you know where she wound up." You shrug, and again the kids approve.
The staff begin calling numbers. Starting with one. The fearless girl holds number four hundred twenty. It'll be a long night.
In the end I leave without a book. I didn't reserve one, and around 2am the staff determine that if they sell to me they'll run out of reserved copies. But that's ok. It was a fun party. The fearless girl and myself and her friends, talking seriously and appreciatively about the things we like best. In the morning I'll try Barnes and Noble.