I’m sure I’m not the only person who, at the moment, is experiencing a series of emotional ups and downs with the coming of the last Harry Potter film. With this final film comes the end of an era for myself and many other overgrown children.
I was eight years old when I first discovered the wonders of that magical book Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. I had never fallen so deeply in love with a novel in my short eight years. The magic, the school, the train… Every detail lured me in with its compelling spell.
After that, I was hooked, needless to say. I was a part of the generation that wanted to be Harry Potter. As far as I was concerned, when I was eleven, that long awaited letter would arrive from Albus Dumbledore, inviting me to attend Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
I feverishly ploughed through the novels, and I impatiently anticipated the release of the books. It was my life, really. It was these books that bred within me a desire to write – to be able to draw people into my own stories like J.K Rowling had so intricately managed to do.
I was thirteen when Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (the novel) was released. I read it in the space of four days, never leaving it down at all.
And then, emptiness. What did I have to look forward to? Other books, yes, but it would never be the same. I knew, with a deep nostalgia, that I would never smell the clean cut pages of a new Harry Potter book again. That I would never roam those Hogwarts corridors with my favourite characters ever again. I started to look forward to the films more, knowing that they were the last remnants of, what was to me, my childhood.
And now, at the age of seventeen, the last ever Harry Potter film is about to be released. And that seeping nostalgia has infected my mind once again. I now know that there are no more remnants to cling on to. There are no more straws to clutch at. This series is well and truly over. I know that next week, when I see the last Harry Potter film, I will no doubt cry like a baby the whole way through for no reason whatsoever. Still, I anticipate it: Just like I anticipate a future of reading and magic. We have to, after all. Because what else do we have?