After camp ended, a group of staff went to see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part Two. Mariah found wands for us to carry in and we set off in a slightly sleep deprived caravan to see the end to a 13 year journey. I was excited to see it but also dreading it a little bit because now the magic is over. I am a rational adult and can comprehend that the Harry Potter phenomenon is fictional, re-readable, and accessible in a variety of mediums at any given moment. However, I felt like I was saying goodbye to old friends; friends that helped me suspend reality, friends that I had laughed with, friends that I had cried with, friends that I had shared adventures with, friends that I had grown up with.
Entering the movie, I felt weary about one more emotionally draining event…when the Warner Brother’s logo appeared after the trailers I was more melancholy than anything else. The entire beginning was me saying silently, “No, no, no, no, no, no” because knowing the outcome already made the inevitable dreadful. Basically from when Fred and George were on the roof and shared what I knew to be their last moment together (spoiler alert for those of you who do not live on planet Earth) until long after the credits rolled I cried like a small child without regard to social norms. I’m pretty sure I sobbed during Snape’s memories in the pensieve. Cure you, unrequited love! When Dumbledore asked “After all this time?” and Snape answered, “Always”, I remembered that Harry is far from the greatest hero in these books. For Snape to care for Harry, not always in the most loving way, even though he was James Potter’s son is a love of the highest order. The author does a profound job of portraying people as they are; good, bad, selfish, selfless, loving, jealous, angry, exuberant, humble, arrogant, brave, and cowardly. Sometimes all of these things at the same time.
After the credits, we all sat in stunned silence. We made our way out to the lobby in a depressed haze and it only took a moment to realize that all of us had been weeping…maybe we weren’t mourning the loss of the book series as much as mourning the loss of something indefinably special; a time in our lives, a framework for figuring out our world, a decade of change and growth. Maybe that indefinable something that we felt the loss of is what makes the Harry Potter books so wonderful. J.K. Rowling taught a generation how to grow up; how to trust in friends, value love, fight against oppression, stand up for those weaker than ourselves, do good, believe the best about others and that those we love never really are gone. As mad as I was that J.K. kept offing the characters that I loved the most, maybe she was helping us understand a valuable lesson about life—that it is fleeting, but love and hope remain. Maybe Harry Potter gave us back a little of the magic that gets lost in the everyday. Maybe it gave us a chance to see ourselves in the roles of hero, friend, and adventurer. Maybe it taught us that who we are is based upon what we do, not what we have. Maybe it showed us the worth of friends who will never abandon us and how to forgive those who come back after abandoning us. Maybe it taught us that courage is not being afraid but rather doing what is right even when we are afraid. Maybe it was just a story well told. Whatever it is, thank you for a great 13 years, it’s been one heck of an adventure.
One died for power.
One died for unrequited love
One greeted death like an old friend
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