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the end is nigh.

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Timeturner / Sparks

Tomorrow night, the first half of the last installment of the Harry Potter films will be released.

I (and others my age) had a very special bond with Harry. The first book of his series was published in the US in 1998, the year I turned ten. Which means that through the course of the series, Harry, who receives his life-changing letter to Hogwarts at the age of eleven, and I grew up together. We began together as children, and we end together, now, as adults.

As a child I had already developed an immense pleasure for reading, but I was the exception to the rule in an era of kids fallen away from books. Many scholars have argued that the Potter series turned my generation back to the written word: and I have enough friends and peers who personally testify to this claim that I believe it to be true. There was (and is) something so indelible, so deeply imaginative, so firmly real about this fantasy story.

the glasses / relashio

When Harry, Hermione, Ron, and I began our journey together, the story was full of wonder and joy: an expansive world being wandered by a neglected little boy with a lightning-shaped scar. The stories were all magic and wonder, and an elusive evil that all children’s folk stories contain. By our teenage years (and the fourth book in the series), the story had quickly and unexpectedly taken a turn for the darker, the more real. The death of Cedric Diggory, the first in a line of beloved characters to be lost, brought an emotional gravity and reality to the books that was, if nothing else, appropriate to the growing adolescent understanding of what it means to live in our world.

the good ship / wanted

By the time the seventh book was released, I was in college and, though I had outdistanced Harry in years, was still at a similar point of maturity and my relationship with the world. I was in the midst of the uncomfortable and exciting process of leaping into a much larger world, permeated with forces of both despair and hope. The frustrated confusion of adolescence was being left behind for the poignant confusion of being an adult.

I dearly love the world that JK Rowling created. Our conversations about the books have deepened now: whereas once they were about Quidditch and house sortings, new ideas have grown to replace the old ones. Musings about the socially stunted wizarding world (still steeped in a medieval feudalism) and its lack of social and economic revolution. Critiques on Rowling’s final portrayal of the house of Slytherin being beyond redemption, and why this is relevant or not. And of course, because we aren’t total academic bores, who the hottest secondary character is (Seamus? Charlie? Oliver? etcetc).

the girl / the adversary

The most wonderful part of growing up with Harry is the comparison between the beginning and the end. It wasn’t until adulthood that I began to understand why Rowling placed the hopes of humanity in the hands of children. Her description of love as the strongest adversary to darkness didn’t make complete sense until backed by my experiences and growth with a trinitarian God. And now, at this point, it fully amazes me that Harry’s story of growing up, so colored by fantasy and imagination, was still so completely like mine (and, really, every other) story of leaving childhood for the years beyond.

And for all of these reasons, and many more, I am deeply saddened that our days of newness are numbered (and growing fewer, so quickly).

always / golden trio

And yet. I feel that such a dear friend (as only much beloved literary friends can be), Harry and I will depart from this place together, with that inexplicable bond, forged through the journey together from childhood to adulthood, hand in hand.


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