when you forget that your boyfriend is not just your best friend but also your boyfriend and try to get him to understand why one of your friends kissing your ex (twice) hurts and slightly enrages you. And he just doesn’t get it. I need to speak to a girl about this.
The Harry Potter films have been going for ten years.
The books for longer.
They are one of the defining points of my childhood and teen years.
I resisted reading my first book. Even then I was a bit of a dickhead, and said ‘no it looks well gay, I don’t want to like something because every body else is’ when my mum bought me the first book shortly after it’s release and rave reviews. One day, I was bored. Really bored. I’d read all my library books. TV was never a boredom killer for me anyway, and the weather was too crappy for me to go out and play. I begrudgingly sat down and started reading Harry Potter and the Philosophers Stone.
Within the first few pages, I was absolutely captivated. I remember my insides kind of trembling with excitement as I read about Harry talking to the snake and Uncle Vernon dragging the family to a variety of mental locations. And that was it. I was converted. I finished the book in a day. I kept asking mum when the others would be released. I loathed the evil and prejudice that Lord Voldermort represented. I revered the wisdom and open-mindedness that Dumbledore encapsulated. I laughed at and with Ron, was a swat with Hermione, and journeyed with Harry.
I journeyed with him for over a decade. Through the books and the films. And now, tomorrow night, it’s the final instalment, ever. Even writing it makes me well up. Though I know, no matter what, even though the production of the films and books is over, finished, it will always, always carry on with me.
I can’t express how much I have learnt and understood and questioned and laughed and cried about through this series. Was JK Rowling’s writing infallible? No. Were all the films excellently written/acted? No. All I know is that through this series, I have learnt more about myself and the world and human nature and decisions and love and friendship and evil and beliefs and perspectives and …so much more… than I could have ever, ever, ever imagined.
So tomorrow night, I will undoubtedly cry. I will undoubtedly leave feeling a little empty. But it won’t be end, not for me.
“As Harry Potter was the only other thing I was passionate about, the doctors gave consent for me to leave the hospital and collect the fifth Harry Potter book, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, from the local book shop. I was so ecstatic to have the book and excited to begin reading it, but there was never any hint of your imminent arrival and the way you would change my life so drastically. Luna, you instantly captivated me. I didn’t know why but there was something about you with your upside-down magazine, straggly blonde hair, and the honest, abashed way you stared at people without blinking that fascinated and perplexed me at once. You laughed hysterically at one of Ron’s quips and didn’t stop to excuse yourself and feel ashamed when it became clear that everyone found you strange. Throughout the book, I found myself waiting for your brief appearances and wanting to know more about you and why you were the way you were. You baffled me, not because you were odd (though indeed you were), but because you were… perfect. But it was a different kind of perfect to the perfectly thin, smiling magazine girls I simultaneously idolised and reviled. It was the way you carried your oddness like it was the most natural thing in the world. You didn’t market your oddness as your defining feature the way some insecure teenagers do, in guise of confidence and security. And nor were you oblivious to the awkward and uncomfortable feelings your oddness provoked in others. When, unable to comprehend how you wore your oddness so honestly and unashamedly, your peers reverted to mockery and bullying, you recognised this as a reflection of their own deep-seated insecurity and calmly let them carry on, quite above your head. You weren’t trying hard to present a certain aspect of yourself that would boldly identify you in the world. And that’s when it occurred to me how bizarre and positively ridiculous it was to apply the word “weird” to describe you, when you represented the most natural and unpretentious state possible to be; you were yourself.”—Evanna Lynch, in part of her Dear Mr. Potter letter, where she describes first reading about Luna while in a recovery programme for anorexia (via holymotherofhnng)