Post-Potter Depression

Two weeks ago, Lee and I returned to the house after walking the dog, to find mail sticking out of our mailbox. I grabbed the envelopes, then behind them I saw it. The box. With my copy of the the book.
It felt like Christmas in July. I reread books 2 through 5 this year in anticipation of book number six. But with this book, I planned to take my time. It’ll be ages before the next (and final) book is released, so I savored each page of this one like it was a candy bar and I wanted it to last.
I finished it this morning. It was great, really great. But now that I’m finished, I wish there were 600 more pages. What will I do now? Laundry? Clean the house? No, I’d rather read more Harry Potter.
I will never understand why so many people are afraid of these books. I read an article recently, in which the author of an anti-potter book claims to have received a letter from Pope Benedict (before he was Pope) about the books. He allegedly said, “It is good that you enlighten people about Harry Potter, because these are subtle seductions which act unnoticed and by this deeply distort Christianity in the soul, before it can grow properly.”
What? I might be a little more concerned about the story of the three pigs. I mean, animals, walking around, talking? Building houses? Using bricks and mortar? Wolves coming down the chimney? Now that’s a little disturbing. How is it different from Star Wars – with the Jedis, the Force, the Dark Side, the lightsabers and the many strange planets and moons?
These books are FICTION. They’re good stories about decent people – people who try to do what is right, make mistakes, then keep trying. There is no anti-God sentiment, nor is there talk of religion at all, and that’s fine by me. Stories like these are good entertainment, and can offer a brief respite from reality. People need to lighten up, or I’ll go sectumsempra on them all!