Harry nodded, as if approving the behavior of an apprentice. He then passed his hand over the circle. The bugs began to walk randomly, breaking the symmetry, but then quickly reorganized into a small rectangle, continuing their non-stop movement.
He waved again, this time while uttering a phrase both unpronounceable and unspellable. The insects disappeared and were replaced by a metal object. It was the size and shape of that original deck. The letters IR were prominently stamped top center.
“You always wanted an Osmium paperweight, right?” he asked.
I did indeed. It had been a long-time fantasy. “How did you know?”, I stammered.
“Well, I did attend Hogwarts, after all.” he said, proud of his alma mater, “And I’ve been in the presence of and have had conversations with many Muggles. No offense, by the way. So its not exactly mind reading, but you come to be able to tell things about people.”
In fact, I had always wanted a paperweight made of the densest metal, but the symbol on the object was IR, not OS.
He continued, “Osmium is indeed the densest metal, but when left out in the open it reacts with air, forming Osmium Tetroxide, a particularly nasty substance. Quite poisonous.
“So for the sake of nearby people and animals, I used Iridium, the next densest element, just a fraction lighter and nice and inert. Please accept it as a gift.”
“Well, well . . . thank you. That is so nice of you.” I replied, appreciative and again dumbfounded.
“My pleasure. But be careful carrying it. It weighs about 3 pounds.”
I picked it up. I knew it would be heavy, but its weight seemed other- worldly.
I didn’t want to seem ungrateful but did have a concern. “What happened to the ladybugs?” I asked.
Correctly sensing that I had bonded with the little creatures, he replied “Don’t worry. No ladybug souls were harmed by this episode.”
I didn’t exactly know what that meant, but felt reassured.
He continued “So what’s the first step? lose the advertising?”
“Yes,” I replied, “get rid of it.”
“But most of Facebook’s income is from ads. How to finance it?”
“Can’t you just wave your wand, and it all turns out right?”
“No. Common misconception. There has to be a plan. Actually that’s not exactly right. There doesn’t have to be a plan, but to not make a mess, there has to be a plan.
“You’ve probably heard about the guy who asked a wizard to make him irresistible to women?” he asked.
“Don’t think so. What happened?”
“He turned him into a puppy.”
“Ooops! I guess a plan would be a good idea.”
“So then how are we going to finance the new and improved Facebook?” Harry asked.
“Well, I guess there could be options. We can charge a subscription fee, or we could turn it into a utility.”
He motioned me into the drawing room. There were logs in the fireplace. He lit a long match, holding it beneath the wood as he turned on the gas.
We sat down. The chairs were indeed comfortable. The fireplace was nice on this sunny but cold winter’s day. But before we could continue our conversation, I heard wings. An owl flew into the room! It took a seat, or I should say a perch, on one of the chairs.
“This is Dave” said Harry. “I’ve asked him to join us. Sometimes we call him Mr. Woo.”
“Is he a Chinese owl?” I thoughtlessly blurted out. What does one say in such a situation?
“It’s an acronym, dummy.” Said the owl, causing me to about jump out of my skin. A talking owl! “You have an IQ in double figures don’t you? Figure it out.”
This was just too much. Plus he had an attitude. Or was he one of those self-possessed individuals who can joke with you from your first conversation without offending. I was about to find out.
The owl, Dave was his name, spoke perfect English, with just a trace of a bird accent. Did his mother name him Dave? Is it a common name for bird infants? Was he named before or after he hatched?
“And who are you?” Asked Dave.
“Josh. Josh McCurdy.” I replied
“Any relation to Elmer McCurdy?”
“I don’t have any relatives by that name that I know of.”
“Catch me up. Would you guys explain to me why are we getting rid of Facebook advertising?” Asked Dave.
At this point, I told myself to stop asking stupid questions. We’re in Harry Potter’s house, for god’s sake. Explanations unnecessary. Have a conversation with a talking owl? Why not?
“Ads attack us from every direction,” I replied, “all the time, night and day, every day. We can’t just live our lives. Wherever we go, whatever we do, whoever we are with, whatever personal drama we are trying to cope with, we see and hear ‘Buy! Buy! Buy!’ no holidays, no weekends, no birthdays, no vacations.
“Most of us are irritated by all this persistent advertising. Strike that. All of us are irritated. But we assume that our wonderful lives, populated with so many treasured, necessary and beautiful objects, requires this permanent degradation of our environment.
“Its been normalized. Yeah, that’s the term, ‘normalized.’ We think of it as unchangeable reality. Like tooth decay.”
“I see you’re pretty serious about this,” said Dave, “but wouldn’t eliminating FB advertising just make a dent?”
“True. A dent, but a significant one. Disappearing advertising from Facebook would get people’s attention, and awaken them to possibilities. It’s a first step to de-normalizing.” I answered.
“How does that sound to you, HP?” asked Dave of the wizard.
“Josh sounds a little worked up, but I can’t argue.” replied Harry. “Any other reasons?”
“It gets worse.” I continued, “Much worse.”
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