Harry Potter And The Really Long Funeral

(The marching band I’m a part of is celebrating its anniversary with a trip abroad for all it’s members. We left the day after the international release of the fifth Harry Potter book. It’s the evening, and some of us are talking over dinner.)

Band Member #1: “I really like this trip, and we’ve done a lot of fun stuff, but the bus rides are really boring.”

Me: “Yeah. I wish I’d brought my cd player, and then I could listen to music. [Band Member #2] lent me his for a bit yesterday; it was nice.”

Band Member #3: “I brought a book, but I can’t read in the bus. I get car sick.”

Me: “Oh, I wanted to bring Order of the Phoenix. I bought it the day before we left, but I only got to around 300 pages in. Mom wouldn’t let me bring it with me, though. She didn’t want to wait to read it until I got back.”

(This is the middle of the Harry Potter craze, so excitement breaks out around the table.)

Band Member #4: “Is it out already?”

Band Member #3: “What happens? How does it end?”

Me: “It’s out in English. The Norwegian translation will take a while, but I couldn’t wait. I’m not gonna tell you what happens; besides, I’m only halfway or something.”

Band Member #5: “I heard someone dies. Who is it? Hagrid? Ron? Sirius? Snape? Dumbledore?”

Me: “I don’t know; I haven’t finished it yet.”

Band Member #5: “It’s Harry, isn’t it? Harry dies?”

Me: *sarcastically* “Yes. He dies at the end of book five. The next two books in the seven book series is about the funeral.”