Tonight, I watched my childhood end. That’s it, ladies and gents! I, of course, am referring to the end of the Harry Potter series. Even after “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows” was published and released, there was some part of me that couldn’t wait for the movie adaptation. I grew up with these characters, spent over a decade in their world. To think that this world is closed off to me, at least in terms of new material, it feels as though I’m losing something precious.
I was always that nerd that had a book with her, wherever she went. Five times out of ten, it was a Harry Potter book. I’ve read them all three times, some much more than that (“…Goblet of Fire,” here’s looking at you, kid). I used to pride myself on obsessing over trivia, rattling off random facts that few people care about.
It’s strange, though. As different as I felt, I was nowhere near being the only person who felt so connected to this series. This worldwide phenomenon held captivated audiences in children, teens and adults alike. As I cried tonight in the theater, I knew the person sitting next to me was crying, too. Everyone in the theater was crying. People in theaters all over the country and the rest of the world were crying at the loss of this magical story. It was a great story. The weirdest part? I can’t wait to read it again. I will watch the movies countless times over the course of my life. In the future, I know I will hand the first book to my kids, hoping they’ll discover the magic, too.
Hogwarts: disappointing 11-year-olds for years and giving this 19-year-old loving memories. These memories include midnight showings, book releases, Harry Potter theme parties, making friends by shouting spells, fantastic characters and so much more! But alas, all great things must come to an end. An end is terrible, yes. But great.