I still remember when I first set eyes on Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. I could not tell you how old I was, although I am sure other people have done the math. I believe I was in first grade—I just know that it was Christmas.
I was always one of those children who loved to read, so I can’t claim to be one of those fans who fell in love with reading after Harry Potter. It was probably BECAUSE I loved reading so much that my mom got us the books (I remember her giving me the first book and my sister the fourth, but my memory might be faulty on that account).
I can honestly say that I have never read another series of books that has changed my life so much.
I started to read the first book, that night. Or at least, I claimed to. I did one of the most sacrilegious things a reader could do—I skipped the first chapter, because it was boring. I read the second chapter and decided it might not be my cup of tea.
Ultimately, it did not matter what my first impression was. My dad decided that it would be a good chance for all of us to read together, and he pulled my sister and I off to the side the next day and announced that we would be reading it together.
We would take anywhere between one chapter and four chapters every day. The three of us would take turns reading, alternating every few pages. Looking back, I find the experience horribly amusing. My dad did not know how to pronounce Hermione, even looking it up in a baby name book for some sort of idea. We worked it out as we went along, but I still remember our original attempt, which sounded something like “Hermany.”
My family was never one to splurge, especially when I was little, and we rarely bought books. However, we managed to convince my mom to buy the second Harry Potter book for us, and we purchased the third with a Waldenbooks gift card that my friend Mary gave me for my birthday that year. Both turned out to be good investments, in the long run. For a while, those books were all I would read, because I was so enamored with the story and characters. The third book, especially, got a lot of use. It has always been my favorite, and I read my hardback copy over and over again. One time, I tried to tear up pieces of scrap paper and bookmark all my favorite parts in that book, but I ran out of paper after the first four chapters, and gave up.
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban holds the honor of being the only hardback book that I read so many times it literally fell apart at the seams.
By the time my family finally got to the fourth book, we were no longer reading the series together. My sister had started reading ahead, checking the books out at our grade school library so that she did not have to wait for us. Not wanting to fall behind, I started reading ahead as well, and my dad finally gave up on the series; he enjoyed reading them, but the thing he really enjoyed about them was spending time with us. Harry Potter, and books in general, was one thing that all three of us could always share.
From that point on, we had to wait for books to come out. I remember, like many other fans do, waiting anxiously for any information about the books, carefully dodging real spoilers, scouring the books for any hidden clues as to what J.K. Rowling had planned for Harry and his friends. My sister and I would concoct the most ridiculous theories; although we later accurately predicted Dumbledore’s death, we were both certain that the important person that would die at the end of the fifth book was Hagrid.
Weeks before the release, we had our mom scour the newspapers and save any clippings related to Harry Potter. The night the fifth book was released, my sister and I stayed up until midnight. When the clock showed that it had reached 12:00, my sister and I simply turned to each other and grinned. When we woke up the next morning, we had a shiny new copy of the book waiting downstairs for us—my mom had gone to the stores early just to buy it for us, which we were incredibly grateful for.
Mom used a Target gift card that my sister was given, and since we only had one copy of the book, we had to take turns. Rachel technically bought the book, so she got to start reading before I did. I drove her nuts, I’m sure, following her around to make sure that we traded at the end of every chapter. There was no way she was going to read the whole book before I even started it, after all.
I finished the fifth book and nearly dissolved into tears. Sirius’ death is one of the ones that makes me the most angry, to this day. Before starting the Harry Potter series, I never would have thought that the death of a fictional character could be so upsetting. The Order of the Phoenix is my least favorite of all the Harry Potter books, because I still see it as Harry at his absolute worst.
The sixth book proceeded similarly. Although I liked it much more than the fifth book, the end was filled with uncertainty and death. I was growing up, and Harry was, too. So many people close to him had died, and the youth and innocence of his Hogwarts years might have ended forever.
Finally, I come to the last book. I found out about the title from my violin teacher at the time, who had seen it online. My sister and I puzzled for days over potential meanings. I arranged to go to a midnight release party with my friend Mary, but things did not work out. We were leaving that morning to go on vacation to Michigan, and we had to get up at 4 AM. My mom did not want me staying up late to go get a book. I was crushed.
When Mary showed up at our house with two copies of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows for us before we left, I could have burst into tears.
The last book was the only one that we bought multiple copies of so that Rachel and I could read them at the same time. We read most of the way there in the car, every once in a while announcing what page we were on and giving brief updates for the rest of the family. I finished before Rachel did, but I was careful not to spoil anything important.
I was disappointed by the ending. I had read all those many years, and it was finally over, and things were so… I don’t know. I still have not been able to reread the last book, because I know I would be sitting there bawling all over again. Seeing Fred and Remus and Tonks and Colin and everyone else die in the final battle for Hogwarts makes me sad, still, so many years later. Then, there’s the little issue that it was the last one. It was over. Done. A dead series.
I know I have left out all the movies. I have seen every single one in theater, and the only one I have seen without my family was DH1 (I saw that one at midnight with a group of friends). In less than 48 hours, I will see the last movie, and Harry Potter will once again be “over.”
Here’s the thing, though. To me, Harry Potter will never die. It motivated a generation of children to read and to fall completely in love with characters. It motivated us to pay attention to the little details. It motivated us to value friendship and love. It motivated us to search for magic in everything, and to dream, and to create our own worlds. It motivated us to use our imaginations. It motivated us to deal with death and pain and loss, even when it was not our own
It taught us to love the things we cannot understand.
I just finished my senior year in high school, and will be heading off to college this August. I have come a long way since that Christmas back in (probably) first grade. I have changed and grown, and will never be that same person who fell in love with Harry Potter. However, although I will never be the exact same as I was in that moment, I will always be the kid who believes in magic and friendship, no matter what crap life puts you through.
All thanks to Harry Potter.
Harry Potter has given me some of my best friends in the entire world. It’s made me closer to my dad and my sister and countless other people. It’s given me my marauders, Cj, Ellie, and Tsuki, as well as my other OOTP friends like Gus. It has introduced me to writing and fanfic and so many other things that have shaped my life.
Someday, I might have kids, and for Christmas, I will give them the first Harry Potter book. They may not be living through the books, the way I did, but I want them to be able to experience the magic, the way I did. I have come to realize that Harry Potter will never die. It will live on in the hearts of all who came to love it. It will be passed along through the generations, because Harry Potter will never end.
Harry Potter is childhood and magic, and until those things die in the hearts of people everywhere, Harry Potter shall live on.
