The End of an Era

My childhood ends at 12:01 am July 15.

Thirteen years of my life all belong to the glorious existence of Harry Potter.

Why do I want to Major in English? Harry Potter. What was the first full novel I read as a kid? Harry Potter. Why did I meet all four of my current best friends? Harry Potter.

Thirteen years! I was six when the first book came out in America. Just a cute little six year old second grader who was quite content to not read any books. And then, one fateful sunny afternoon, my mother handed me a copy of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone and said "Here, I think you'll like this." Ha. Me, read a book. That's a good one. I, being six, went outside and played with my friends. My mother decided she'd start reading it to me in bed that night. She read chapter one, and then left. And the next night she read me chapter two. And then chapter three following that. But it was that third night that things changed. My mother was reading it too slow. How dare she get me hooked on a book and then read only one chapter a night. So I took matters into my own hands and read half the book that night. Yes. Vengeance was mine! Now she'd have to wait until I was done to find out what happened next.

I finished the book a few days later, but now I was hooked. Harry Potter was the best thing ever and none of my little play-friends understood. They had kick ball and bikes, what good would a book do them? But my mother understood. She bought me the second and then the third. I read them as fast as my little mind could process them. Oh, those glorious books. Those wonderful things filled with joy and happiness.

The fourth book was the first time I had to actually wait for forever to get it. The fourth wasn't out yet. I was not a happy child. I wanted that book. Why couldn't that book be mine? And, to make everything thousands of times worse, I only learned about midnight parties after it came out. I was devastated that I didn't get to go. But I'd go to the next. Yes. Yes I would.

And then the movie came out just a bit before I turned 11. My little 11 year old mind couldn't handle it. I'd get to watch them? How could life get any better? Of course, then my 11 birthday came around and I was devastated by the lack of an owl bearing my letter. I wanted to go to Hogwarts, damn it. But I got over it. Sort of.

The fifth book was the most painful to wait for. I was up in the back woods of Maine when it came out. No midnight parties out there. And, as if the world hated me, my mother told me I wasn't allowed to read it until I got back from a fishing trip with my dad, brother, grandfather, and this guy Bob. I did not like this plan. I complained, but my mother promised I'd get the book as soon as I got back. This agreement was not good enough. I needed that book the second the bookstore opened. And I needed to read it NOW! But I went on that fishing trip and caught two fish. I don't even know why people bothered bringing me fishing. I didn't like fishing. I didn't like touching worms or fish and therefore made everyone else do so for me. I was the only one to catch fish that day forcing my dad to put a worm on my hook and then take the fish off my hook. I just wanted that book so I formed a plan...

"Dad, I have to go to the bathroom..."

"Can you wait half an hour?"

No. "Sure... Fine. Half and hour." I grumbled a while and really didn't want to fish any more or even go through the motions of fishing.

"Dad, can we go now?"

"Fine."

Success was mine! Home we went... After stopping for lunch. I ate my sandwich in misery. But we got home shortly after that. My dad told my mom how I got all the fish and how I probably just wanted to go home to have the satisfaction of having been the only one to catch fish. I just nodded and smiled. That book needed to be mine so I was not going to argue. My mother gave me the beautiful blue book. It was just so pretty! I loved it. This was the first time that I read non-stop. Two days. A personal record at the time, but I would beat it with the next book.

The sixth book. Now I could go to the midnight parties. And that was my plan. I refused to take no for an answer. I was now about to become Freshman in high school where I would meet one of my bests friends because she had Sirius Black on her shirt.  But before all that happened, I needed to convince my mother she wanted to go to the midnight party. But, no, she liked going to bed at 9:30. What good was that going to do me? I tried so hard to get her to go with me since I'd have no ride without her. And that's how it ended up. Once again, I had to wait like a muggle to get the book. And, while I had been a bit weepy with the fifth book. This was the first time I sobbed. Hysterically. I could not believe J.K.R could have written such a dark book. It wasn't until later I realized... Only one book left. Whatever would I do with myself? My life. Ending...

But the sixth book brought me something else. Theories. I knew Snape was good before the seventh book came out. I had mentally prepared myself for Harry and Hagrid's deaths, seeing as Harry obviously had to be a horcrux, and this time, I'd go to that midnight party. Since it was the last book my mother decided it would be fine to go with me. I was dressed up and completely ready. I was also number 484 in line. A very long line, but worth it to get that book. At last, just a few minutes past midnight, the book was mine. The last book.  The final installment. All truth was about to be revealed. I devoured the book in 12 hours and 45 minutes. My final record. I cried so hard that it was another hour before I decided to leave my room and say hello to my grandparents who had gotten in from Maine earlier that day. I wore all black and mourned the loss of two of my absolute favorite characters. Remus Lupin and Fred Weasley.

And now the final movie is about to be released. More than half of my life has gone to this series and has inspired me to be a writer, even if I do believe my writing sucks, but so many childhoods like mine will end that night. We will actually watch as our favorite characters die. Laugh, through our tears, as Mrs. Weasley calls Bellatrix a bitch, and then cheer as Neville saves the day with his BAMF moment with the sword of Godric Gryffindor. And then it will end. Nothing left to look forward to.

What other book could possibly inspire such greatness like the Harry Potter Alliance that raised hundreds of thousands to send to Haiti all in the name of Harry Potter. Even Nerdfighters, fighting to decrease world suck, tend to be some of the biggest Harry Potter fans.

Sure, there are books that have become quite popular, but they just don't give the same excitement. Hunger Games was really good, but just wasn't the same. I even read Twilight, and while, I unfortunately must admit, the first was alright, the rest were complete shit and don't even get my started on the grammar and it's encouraging small tween girls to bite each other. Nothing could ever compare and in just a few short week, it'll be over. My childhood will end.

Thank you, J.K. Rowling, for making my childhood magical.
Yes, I teared up while writing that




Mischief Managed.