You know what I miss about Harry Potter?
I miss the exhilaration of a new book. The day the title was released, you’d repeat it over and over in your head, roll it around in your mouth a bit, say it out loud a few times and grin with the sheer anticipation of it. You’d wonder: What is the Goblet of Fire? What are the Deathly Hallows? And then you’d get the utter joy of finding out, page by page.
And you’d mark the release date on your calendar and count down the days like you were waiting for September the first, and you’d reread all the others and know that you’d be unlocking another piece of the puzzle very soon.
And maybe you’d wait a few days — anxiously, of course — or more likely you’d go to the midnight release parties at your local mall or bookstore, and you’d eat chocolate chip cookies with fellow costumed Potterheads and discuss whether Snape was truly friend or foe. And then the clock would strike twelve, and your hands would clench and unclench until you finally had the book in your hands, and you’d devour the cover art with your eyes, trace the title with your fingertips, feel the weight in your hands and just get this spasm of intense happiness that finally, it was time to read again.
And you’d unlock it all, page by page.
And you would wait in anticipation for the next movie. Discuss what might be in it and what might be left out — hopefully not much, although you always had faith. You wondered if your imagination would match up with the movie, and you’d mark the date again, preorder the tickets and spend days just looking at the ticket stub, waiting and waiting, but knowing it would be worth it.
And maybe it was another costumed midnight party, or you went after an agonizing few days’ wait, and you would eat your popcorn and drink in the excitement of your fellow Potterheads and feel the incredible unity that comes with being a part of something so much bigger than yourself. And you’d all laugh and cry and yell together, and it felt right.
But it’s never truly over. Hogwarts will always be there to welcome us all back home, with open arms and a talking, patched and frayed hat. And someday, when our kids look up at us and say, ‘Do you know any good stories?’, we’ll smile and say, ‘I know just the thing.’
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLL OF THIS.
I have actually cried over this very thing. Sometimes I feel like Harry Potter was my childhood and now it is somehow prematurely over; as if I have lost something which was precious and can never be replaced.
