Reading the Same Book as a Different Person: The Animals

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

This week, I wanted to talk about the animals that populate the world of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.

Hedwig is still faithfully delivering Harry's mail and acting as a tether to the magical world he loves. Hermione finds a companion in Crookshanks, an animal who seems to be an outsider in the world of magical creatures, much like Hermione herself. Hagrid introduces everyone to Buckbeak, a proud animal who is strong and loyal. And Ron spends half the book worried about Scabbers, who is looking increasingly terrible.

And yes, one of those animals turns out to be a middle-aged man who has been pretending to be a rat for twelve years, so maybe "pet" needs an asterisk here.

But rereading the book as an adult, I found myself paying much more attention to the relationships these kids have with the animals around them.

Because they reminded me of the animals I grew up with.

And more specifically, they made me realize how much my relationship with animals has changed as I've gotten older, much like my relationship with the books in this series.

When They Were Bigger Than Me

When you're a kid, an animal can feel enormous.

Not necessarily physically, although when you're small enough, even a medium-sized dog can seem pretty damn big.

I mean their presence.

The animals I grew up with made me feel safe.

They heard noises before I did. They knew when someone was outside. They'd follow you from room to room or sleep nearby at night.

As a kid, you don't necessarily think, this animal is protecting me.

You just know they're there.

There's something comforting about that.

Reading Harry's relationship with Hedwig brought some of that back for me. Harry spends so much of his childhood in places where he doesn't feel particularly safe or understood, and there's Hedwig.

She's his connection to another world, but she's also just his.

A familiar presence that's there when everything else feels uncertain.

I understood that feeling immediately as a kid.

I just didn't have the words for it yet.

Then They Became My Friends

As I got older, the relationship changed.

By the time I was a teenager, the animals in my life weren't really protectors anymore.

They were my friends.

And animals are particularly good friends when you're a teenager because they don't care about any of the ridiculous shit teenagers care about.

They don't care who likes you.

They don't care whether you embarrassed yourself.

They don't care about whatever social catastrophe has convinced you that your life is completely over this week.

They're just happy you're home.

That's something I see all over Prisoner of Azkaban now.

Hermione immediately connects with Crookshanks despite everyone else thinking he's weird and ugly. In some ways, Crookshanks seems to reflect some of Hermione's own insecurities. She knows what it's like to be different, and she doesn't want to leave Crookshanks alone to navigate that without someone there with him.

Ron is genuinely worried about Scabbers. He's another Weasley hand-me-down, sure, but he's also been with Ron as he goes through all these new experiences in his life. Scabbers even bites a finger or two in Ron's defense when needed.

Even Buckbeak, this enormous and potentially dangerous creature, becomes someone Harry connects with through trust and respect.

These aren't accessories to the kids.

They're relationships. Notes-1

The Things You Tell an Animal

Then came young adulthood.

And somewhere along the way, my animals became something else again.

They became confidants.

There's something wonderfully strange about talking to an animal.

You can tell them absolutely anything.

You can say the thing you're afraid to say out loud to another person. You can complain. You can be angry. You can admit you're scared.

They don't interrupt.

They don't offer advice.

They don't tell you you're being ridiculous.

They just sit there.

And sometimes that's exactly what you need.

I think that's part of why these relationships in Harry Potter feel so natural. These kids are dealing with things they aren't always prepared to explain to the adults around them.

But the animals are always there.

Somewhere Along the Way, It Flipped

Here's the part I didn't expect this reread to make me think about.

I still have animals in my life.

I still love them just as much.

But the relationship feels completely different now.

I'm the adult.

I'm the one making sure they've eaten.

I'm the one checking whether they're comfortable.

I'm the one noticing when they're acting a little weird and immediately wondering if something is wrong.

I'm the one making the appointments, paying the bills, buying the food, cleaning up after them, and occasionally spending an absurd amount of money because somebody ate something they absolutely should not have eaten.

They're still my friends.

They're still companions.

I'll absolutely still talk to them.

But they also feel a little like my children now.

They're dependent on me.

And suddenly, I'm the one who's supposed to make them feel safe. Notes-1

Reading the Same Book as a Different Person

I don't think the animals in Prisoner of Azkaban meant anything particularly profound to me when I first read it.

They were just part of the world.

Hedwig was Harry's owl.

Crookshanks was Hermione's weird cat.

Scabbers was Ron's increasingly suspicious rat.

Buckbeak was an awesome hippogriff.

Reading the same book now, they brought back an entire timeline of animals I've loved at different points in my life.

When I was a kid, they made me feel safe.

When I was a teenager, they were my friends.

When I was becoming an adult, they listened to things I wasn't ready to tell anyone else.

And now?

I'm the one checking whether they've eaten.

I'm the one worrying when they're sick.

I'm the one trying to make sure they feel safe.

Somewhere along the way, I became the protector.

The animals didn't really change.

I did.

This post is dedicated to my best friend growing up, Rascal, a cat like no other. No boy could have ever asked for a better protector, companion, or friend.

Missed dearly and never forgotten.