Thank You, Harry

Well, it’s over.

Last night at midnight (well, 12:03am to be precise), I went to see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part II at a theatre near my house.  I was anxious all day, and just wanted to be sitting in my seat in the theatre, watching that Warner Brothers logo glide across the screen.

HP7.2 (as I like to call it) was probably the most highly anticipated movies of the year, probably in the past ten years.  I personally cannot think of a movie I’ve wanted to see more than this one.  And seeing it was an experience.  So, I want to take a moment to touch on my love for Harry Potter, and what seeing this movie meant to me.

I was first introduced to Harry through my sister.  I remember seeing her read a copy of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets in her bedroom and wondering what that book was all about.  I don’t remember exactly when I first picked up the books myself, but I must have been quite young, eight or nine.  It was a good age to start, Harry almost always was the same age as me when I read the books. 

I remember being so excited for the first movie.  I hardly knew what kind of phenomenal franchise would spring from this silly first film.  But spring it did and grow, and by the third film the actors had blossomed and found their footing.  Though I complained with the best of them about how the movies weren’t truly faithful to the books, how they cut important details, etc. etc. there was no denying my deep love for the films.  They were a visual, audio personification of a series I adored.  And they were a way for me to relive the excitement I felt when reading the books for the first time.

That’s why seeing this last film was a bit heartbreaking.  Because there will be not more new novels, no more new films.  I’ve experienced it all.  And that’s a bad thing.  There’s closure to that, even if it almost feels unwanted. 

I don’t want this post getting too long because honestly, I could write pages and pages on my love for Harry (once for a class, I even wrote a 10 page academic essay on why Christians should read HP). 

So: the film.  I dressed up, after much debate, deciding that this was truly my last time to don the HP costume.  I went to a Ravenclaw student look instead of my usual Gryffindor because it’s time for me to show my true house.  I waited in a line that seemed unending and terrifying and somehow, thankfully, got a nice seat in the theatre.  The film was, to be honest, not completely perfect in my opinion, but it is an adaptation, so it came as close as possible.  The humor was lovely and well-placed, breaking up some of the awfully tense moments in the film: Fred’s death, followed by Tonks and Lupin’s, Snape’s wonderfully and tear-worthy revelations.  I didn’t want to cry, but I did, shedding my first real tears when Hermoine hugs Harry goodbye as he leaves for his death.  I don’t know why that particular moment struck me, but I think I’ve always seen a bit of myself in Hermoine, and the look on her face, perfect sadness and fear, called upon my own sadness and fear for Harry.  And her feeble “I’ll go with you…” channeling my own thoughts.  But Harry had to go alone.  And the forest scene, with his family—there was something so heartbreaking and real about the moment.  Kudos to Daniel Radcliffe for that one. 

So yes, lots of tears, lots of sniffling on my part (and pretty much everyone in the theatre).  I knew it would get better, the moment would redeem itself, but it was still hard.  And the epic moments that were my favorites, that I was waiting for: Neville’s triumph slaughter of Nagini, Molly’s “Not my daughter, you bitch!,” and Narcissa saving Harry’s life.  The entire theatre was clapping. 

Well, I said this wasn’t going to be long, but you know how those things go.  What else can I say?  Nothing I suppose.  Harry has been a large part of my life for over ten years, and now it’s over.  But that doesn’t mean I’m letting him go.  Sometime in the future, after grad school perhaps, when I have time, I’m going to reread all of the books (I’ve only read most of them once).  They’ll be even better the second time around.  I’ll have a movie marathon and watch all eight films until my eyes melt.  My children will read Harry Potter and hopefully their children will too.  


Perhaps, if I’m lucky, Cambridge will sponsor a Harry Potter costume party. But if not, I’ll just wander the school’s sprawling stone hallways, their Great Hall, their towers and open lawns.  I’ll kept my wand hidden in my bag.  And I’ll pretend, just for a moment, that I’m in a different world.