On Saturday when the final scene of Harry Potter had been acted out and the curtain had drawn (figuratively speaking, of course) I was hit with an understanding that was it. It was so final, so absolute and I was devastated because I wasn’t ready to let go of this world yet. There weren’t going to be any more adventures with Harry, Ron and Hermione. The villain had finally been defeated but instead of a sense of relief, all I felt was loss. Harry Potter has been such a huge part of my life for years and, to be honest, I doubt that it will ever leave. It has a special place reserved in my heart and even if the final movie has played, I will continue to read the books, cherish the characters and feel the magic until the very end.
When I first came across Harry Potter, I was already a reader. Granted, my brand of literature at the time consisted mainly of the Mary-Kate and Ashley books, but I still enjoyed reading. One day in class, we had a free reading period and I wandered over to the bookshelves. Sitting there on the shelf was a copy of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. I picked it up because it was the most pristine novel on the shelf appearance-wise (which isn’t saying much) and there appeared to be a flying car – cool!
I read it. I loved it. A few weeks later, I had flown to England and was staying with relatives. We went to the bookstore and I immediately grabbed copies of the first and third books to read while I was travelling with my grandparents in Switzerland. Since we were taking a tour bus from England to Switzerland, I had plenty of time to read my new books. So I did – again and again and again. I can’t even remember how many times I read those two little books but I did and each time was as good as the last.
I remember when the seventh book was due to come out. It was the first time I had preordered a book and on the day it released, I woke up early and stalked the entryway of my house, just waiting for someone to show up at the door with that package. I waited and I waited but nothing came. By that point, I was getting desperate even though in reality, I’d only been waiting minutes. My mom told me that when she had gone shopping that morning, she’d seen the book and considered getting it anyway just because she knew I wouldn’t want to wait (I guess she ended up thinking I could do with some patience? LOL). The book finally came when I was eating lunch which I promptly abandoned to read. It just so happens that on that day, my mom was leaving for a five-week trip in India. I was outraged because my dad told me to leave the book at home while we dropped my mom off at the airport. I don’t even think I gave her a proper good-bye because I was so preoccupied with thoughts of the novel waiting for me at home. (Since then, I’ve discovered I do in fact love my mom more than Harry Potter – just saying.)
There have been so many special moments related to Harry Potter in my life. In grade three, we played Quidditch on scooter boards, class versus class (we were Gryffindor) and it was so much fun even though I sucked. We totally would have won, too – our seeker had SKILLS – except this jerk decided to tell the teacher he wanted to play seeker for our final match (against Slytherin – no one had wanted to be Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had dropped out) and we ended up losing the cup.
I’ve had dreams about the series and tried to convince everyone I know to read it. I’ve dragged my family off to every movie (even though my dad has fallen asleep in every single freaking one) and even got my mom and sister to read the series (they loved it – it’s wonderful to be right).
So, no – I won’t be forgetting about this series for a long time (read: ever). It will always be important to me and represent my childhood and that feeling of wonder, amazement and magic. I’ll dream of being sorted by a talking hat (into Hufflepuff) and wait for my acceptance letter to Hogwarts to be delivered by owl. I’ll read the books again and talk about them even if everything has already been said.
Goodbye, Harry Potter. Except… it’s not the end.
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