Farewell, Harry Potter!

Yes, I was one of the loonies at the midnight premiere of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2. I wasn’t dressed in costume, but I wanted to be there to share in the special camaraderie that we hardcore HP fans enjoy. I needed to see the movie with a group of people who really cared about these characters and to experience the bittersweet moment of the farewell.

I’ve been a fan since the beginning. My daughter was about 7-years-old when the first book was published. By the time the second one was released, the buzz about the boy wizard had really begun, and I thought it was time to check him out for myself.

I had already been reading to my daughter every night before bed, so it was a prime opportunity for us to continue the tradition with a more mature subject matter. We were both hooked immediately, and I ended up reading every single word of the first three books out loud to her. Every night. One chapter at a time. Rowling’s words were literally on the tip of my tongue. I did voices. I did faces. Did I have a connection with these characters? You bet.

By the time the fourth book was released, my daughter was old enough to read it on her own. Bedtime stories weren’t so cool anymore. She began Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire but never quite finished it because of an increasingly busy schedule and eye toward less childish things. I, on the other hand, always kept up. I had too much invested in the stories and characters to leave them behind. I had grown to love them.

At this time, the movies were coming out too. We went to see them all, and when she was old enough, my daughter and I started attending the midnight showings. It was story time again, but slightly more cool. “Cool” being a relative term when talking about Harry Potter, of course.

As the actors playing Harry, Ron and Hermione aged, so did my daughter. She was suddenly in high school, busy with music and her academics, navigating the sometimes treacherous years of adolescence. And even though she had grown out of reading the Harry Potter books, she always asked me to keep her updated and she never made fun of me when I cried because one of them had died. Okay, almost never.

My daughter will turn 21 next month; she’s almost exactly the same age as the actors we’ve watched mature on the screen. She’s working two jobs this summer and giving music lessons in order to earn enough money to study abroad for her final semester in college.

When I asked her if we’d be screening the midnight show for the last installment of the series, she told me that she couldn’t because she had to work the next morning, so I went with a friend instead. I had a great time, but as I watched the film, I couldn’t help but feel a little sad. Not just because the series was at an end but also because so were the childhoods of Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna and all the rest. Because by putting the responsibility of her job above seeing the midnight show, it was clear that my daughter’s childhood is now behind her too. Behind me.  

And it occurred to me that the battle of adolescence was over. It had sometimes been hard fought, but it had, indeed, been won. It’s time to turn a new page and step off the platform and into the future.

But, I’m also secure knowing that Harry Potter will be there for the next generation, and I only hope that these new adults who are going out among muggles know that help will be given to those who ask for it. Always.