The two men appeared out of nowhere, a few yards apart in the narrow, moonlit lane. For a second they stood quite still, wands directed at each other’s chests; then, recognising each other, they stowed their wands beneath their cloaks and started walking briskly in the same direction.
- JK Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
And so begins the first chapter of young Harry’s final leg of his journey.
On Monday, when I bought the Nightwatch trilogy, I inquired about the final Potter book. The lovely girl behind the counter informed me to read up yesterday’s (Sunday’s) StarMag. There’s a discount voucher for the book. When asked further, the paperback copy would only come out after 1 year. And they didn’t order that many copies, because the 6th installment didn’t sell that well.
I didn’t pre-order the book. And the pre-order list had been filled up at least 2 months ago.
I don’t normally buy newspaper; but somehow, I’d bought the Sunday Star - which I didn’t read, obviously. Once I reached home I rummaged through the newspaper stack, hoping that the particular copy I was interested in hadn’t ended up as Chiqa’s toilet reading material. I was in luck.
I flipped through the newspaper twice before I found the page I was looking for. Apparently there was an almost-full-page article on the book sale. Kinokuniya KLCC is selling the Deathly Hallows at 7:01 am on Saturday.
But wait.
The first three gets a free copy signed by JK Rowling herself. The next ten gets a free copy each as well, minus the signature. But there’s a catch. You have to intone the password before the Fat Lady to enter Kinokuniya. "Gillyweed Violet." The article also mentioned KLCC entrance would be opened at 5:00 am for people to line up.
I thought, "What the hell. Why not? Not that I’m on-call this weekend, anyway."
I fell asleep reading Nightwatch, with Keeno occupying much too much space for a cat on the blanket covering me. I slept fitfully, waking up at odd hours, and Keeno adjusting her position as I moved.
At almost 4:00 am I decided I had to wake up to shower and get ready to go to KLCC. No way was I going to the middle of KL with sleep written all over me. Faiz knew of my plan but was not interested in joining me. He promptly went to sleep after long hours of Warcraft. Keeno (the traitor) woke up long enough to jump off my bed onto Faiz’s and snuggle under his blanket and promptly continued sleeping as well. What the hell.
I showered, took my time, drank cold chocolate and browsed through the net for a bit. The article said the parking lot would only be accessible at 5:00 am. I left home at 4:40.
I had a few minutes to spare as I entered the parking lot. Apparently we can enter the carpark before 5. Damn liars. Lo and behold, there were already a gaggle of people crowding the glass doors to the basement escalators.
My hopes were crushed. "There goes my freebies." Well I’d brought cash, so it made little difference.
I was on my way to join the crowd when a man suddenly announced there was an accessible elevator accross the parking lot. It was enough to put everyone in a frenzy. Before you can say "banana split," the crowd dispersed as everyone ran toward the referred elevator. A walked at a slower pace, grinning at the enthusiasm these people showed.
So the elevator was the one that led to the park. Everyone had to wait at the park entrance, it seemed. To dash my hope even further, guess what I saw.
The whole wide steps leading into KLCC were filled with people, jostling and pushing each other.
The guards could be heard yellin, "Belakang! Belakang!"
I just wanted my goddamn book and all these people here meant competition!
I waited, standing, reading Nightwatch. My ears were perked, overhearing button-nosed, dark-skinned, chubby and average-height Malaysians converse in perfect English, with non-Malaysian accent. Kids nowadays. The things they pick up from MTV. People say I speak English with a non-Malaysian accent, not American and not British, but a mangled up version of both. But hearing these kids, and not just a crowd or two, but a whole lot of them, simply amazed me.
The guards had posted a sign reading "Queue starts at 5:30 am." I did not check my handphone for the time. I kept on reading.
Suddenly there was a commotion, people clapping and cheering. I looked up. The guards were unlocking the chained doors. Finally.
Without warning, the guards opened the doors and the people started rushing through the half-opened doors like starving hyenas spotting an unguarded carcass. Quite literally. They were yipping, yelling, stumbling, running. All wanted to be the first to line up.
The escalators became a bottleneck; people had to slow down as only two people could run side-by-side on the escalator. I actually saw discarded, unpaired shoes at the base of the elevator. Beasts, these people.
When i got to the actual line, I was simply dejected. Ahead of me were at least 100 people. Some even came from the back, hugged their friends in front, and assimilated themselves into the line. Those little fuckers. (You get the point. I was getting more than annoyed then)
I checked my phone. It was 5:16 am. This was going to be a long wait. Luckily I had Nightwatch. I immersed myself in the story, a bigger part of my mind in Moscow with Anton the Light One (a story for another time perhaps) while a small part of my awareness moved along with the crowd.
At 6:00 we were ushered onto the 4th floor to continue the long line. At the entrance I spotted a garishly dressed up lady play-acting the Fat Lady of Gryffyndor. Okay…
I stopped glancing at my K800i for the time. Why make myself further depressed? I moved along with the crowd like a pre-programmed zombie.
Suddenly there was a commotion ahead. People could be seen whispering to the Fat Lady and entering Kinokuniya. Those behind were cheering. Was it 7:01 already?
I got nearer and nearer to the entrance. By the time I had only 10 people in front of me, I could read no longer. Sorry Sergei Lukyanenko. Looks like Nightwatch has to wait.
I approached the lady and said, "Good morning, my Lady."
She replied, "Good morning to you. Password please."
"It’s Gillyweed Violet, if I’m not mistaken."
She reached out her hand. I held it. "Come in, careful of your steps."
"Thank you," I politely replied.
And what a sight it is. Stacks of hardcover Harry Potter books; a cartoon illustration marking the American copy, and a more somber, darker illustration marking the British one. I reverently picked the somber one, naturally; not because I prefer British writing, but it would look less childish when I hold it.
The queue to pay was oh…so…freaking…long.
My fingers caressed the matte texture of the book I held, and I took sneak peeks inside. The smell of the paper, of dry,grained wood that was fresh at the same time, refreshed my love of reading (novels. I cringe at academia). I just couldn’t wait to read the book.
When I finally reached the cashier, I spotted a display of Harry Potter bookmarks. The choices were either Harry or Voldermort from the movies. Harry then, since Voldermort looks so scary.
They were giving out quills along with the book. I was thankful that at least I would be getting that. I spotted two different colors. White and reddish-brown. I asked for the brown one.
The cashier glared at me and stuck the white one into my bag. "Tak boleh pilih!"
"Ala, bolehla."
"Tak boleh pilih! Maaf, tapi tak boleh pilih!"
Well, at least she said sorry to soften the rudeness.
Finally. After almost 3 hours of waiting, I’m a proud owner of a spanking new, 607 pages worth of Harry Potter and his magical adventure.
Will he die? Will Voldermort die? Is Albus Dumbledore actually alive? Will Harry snog Cho Chang or Harmoinie Granger?
I’ll find out soon enough. As for you, line up your-goddamn-self to get a copy.
Aah….all these eloquent lines from someone who’s been having a permanent writer’s block.
JK Rowling, if you happen to come across this sad, pathetic blog, I thank you for keeping the magic alive even to adults. I still itch to go through that platform 9 3/4, to prove that I have a wizard’s blood in me, and not just an ordinary Muggle.
Salute.
Entries (RSS)