rolanni | Pottering

The Potter Party at Children's Book Cellar was well-attended, though the evening was hot, muggy and threatening more rain which was never actually delivered.

kinzel and I took turns manning -- and womanning -- the crystal ball, which was...interesting.

The gig went like this: The /v/i/c/t/i/m divinator gazed into the crystal ball and when they felt they were ready, they reached into a specially prepared magic bag and drew out a question. Their powers of divining the future having been heightened by their communion with the ball, they would supposedly know the answer to the question. Since all of the questions had to do with what might or might not or could or could not happen in Book the Last and Beyond, this was an interesting exercise.

I had a spiel: "Gaze into the ball and feel your power rise. When you see that the curtain between Now and the Future has parted, put your hand out and receive a question."

Everybody was good-natured; several -- as you might imagine -- had extremely strong opinions; some questions gave the divinator a new perspective or opened up avenues of further thought. It was kind of cool, actually.

That said, three divinators stand out. One was the boy who wanted to know what would happen if he read the book and found that his prophesy had been correct. I told him that he would have that warm, fuzzy feeling of having been right. He seemed to think that was fair enough.

The second was a woman who barely glanced at the ball, snatched a question out the bag, read it, and looked at me with an expression of goaded betrayal. "I don't know the answer to this question!" I allowed that it was sort of a low-wattage ball, and that sometimes the future isn't clear. She shook her head, clearly baffled. "It's an open-ended guessing game," I tried, "to help you think about what might happen in the next book." She moved away then, but I think she still believes I was making fun of her somehow.

The third stand-out customer was a little girl -- maybe five? six? She sat down in the chair, feet swinging inches above the floor, arms straight down at her sides, fingers gripping the edges of the chair. I gave her the spiel. She leaned forward slightly, stared at the ball, looked up at me out of troubled brown eyes. "I'm not really going to see the future, am I?" she whispered. It was one of those Moments. My usual mode (because I am a light-minded contrarian who thinks there's 'way too little magic in the world) is to say that Of course she'd see the future. So it took a considerable amount of effort for me to shake my head. "No, sweetie. It's just a game." She thought about that for a couple of long seconds, then nodded solemnly and leaned in to gaze deeply into the ball.

We left the festivities in full swing at about 10:30, after handing off the divination franchise to

baggette, and that's the last Harry Pottering.

I do wonder what people are going to do to satisfy their urge for fancy-weird-ragged dress-up next year. Maybe we'll have to have a Dress Like a Wizard Day every year?

And now...to work.