It isn't enough of a coincidence that he shares a name with the most famous literary character on the planet. He would have to have a scar on his forehead, starting between his eyes and snaking up his forehead in a line - just like the boy wizard created by J.K. Rowling.
"Oh my lordy Hannah," says the real-life Harry E. Potter, 76, of Leonardtown. "You have no idea what it is like to have this name. Just 15 minutes ago, I got a phone call from some girls who were about 13 or 14, and who giggled a lot. And you cannot be rude to them, you know that? You cannot be rude.
"That J.K. Rowling owes me something. I'm not sure what, but she owes me."
If having the same name as his fictitious counterpart has begun to weary Potter, you can't blame him. After all, the unsought attention has been going on for 12 years, since the first novel in the seven-book series was published.
And it's not about to end anytime soon; the final movie in the series won't be released for two years.
Many of the names that Rowling chose for her characters - names such as Nymphadora, Gilderoy and Draco - are hardly common. Nonetheless, there are enough Marylanders who share a name with Rowling's wizards to make up several Quidditch teams.
Maryland has or recently had at least three Harry Potters, 16 Hermiones, 3 Siriuses, 13 men named Snape and 15 women named Narcissa. We used to have a Severus, but he's fled north. So has Maryland's only known former Bellatrix.
Though it seems that Baltimore can't boast of any residents named Dumbledore, there appears to be one in Nashville, Tenn., with the all-important first initial of "A."
For these people, the release of each new book in the canon, and each new movie - Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince is set for release Wednesday - is, to put it mildly, a mixed blessing.
"It was fine for a while," Potter says, noting the seemingly never-ending litany of medical professionals who bring in their children to meet him while he's sitting on their examination tables, or 3 a.m. phone calls from inebriated strangers, or autograph hounds who never tire of hearing the story about the scar. (When the real Harry Potter was 5 years old, he was playing with his cousin, who struck him in the forehead with a hatchet.)
"Each time another book or movie comes out, the phone rings off the hook for about two months," says Potter, who retired from a career in food service management. "It does get tiring. I'm seriously thinking of changing my listing in the phone book to 'H. Potter.' "
