On July 14th the new Harry Potter movie seemed to be the only topic of conversation. There was the same chatter that accompanied every one of the preceding movies: “Are you going to the midnight showing? Are you dressing up? I hear this will be the best one yet.” However, there was one theme this time around that was new: “This is the end of my childhood.” While I generally disregard all overtures made to this magnitude, upon the rolling of the credits of this film, I knew the sentiment to be absolutely true.
I could not of guessed that I’d be affected in the way I was. I have never taken Harry Potter to the extent that others have. I never dressed up, never bought the memorabilia; I just read the books and watched the movies. However looking back now, it’s difficult to envision a world where I’d simply be entertained by the saga’s conclusion. I grew up with Harry Potter. A lot of us did, in more ways than one, and its conclusion had to stir up something deep.
The universe Rowling created was as fantastical as they come but somehow that universe fostered a sense of home. Take away the magic and at its base elements and we can all find ourselves. We all know a Hermione, a Ron and even a Snape . We all have felt the insecurities and the yearning for purpose found in Harry. This was probably the saga’s best quality — amidst all the wonderment, it felt closer to home than anything else out there.
We were further drawn to the books as they came at a time when the characters lives mirrored our own. With never more than a few years difference between the ages of those in the magical gang and our own, we found comfort in their trials and tribulations. Sure, we never had to deal with giant spiders or bipolar ghosts but we did have to deal with the awkwardness and pressures of school, the loss of family, and our growing independence. Even the shift of tone in our own lives was mirrored by the books. What was once quirky and naive became more jaded and somber. Through their production the books paralleled our lives to such an extent that neither left the other behind.
Harry Potter, like all good things, eventually had to come to an end. The books did so, cleaning up most story-lines but leaving no real direction, merely an idyllic image some decades later. The conclusion created the strangest feeling within me, the feeling where you cannot tell if you’re completely satiated or deprived. Was I completely prepared for it to end or not at all? And, as it had always done, the feeling generated at its conclusion mirrored where I stood in life, soon to graduate high school and face an unknown future. I and so many others at my stage wondered if we were completely prepared for it to end or not at all.
As the books guided us through our childhood, the movies have reminded us of it and the final movie reminds us of its conclusion. I didn’t realize it at the time — maybe it’s one of those realizations rarely made in the moment — but the end of my childhood coincided with the end of the series. I was leaving my childhood without a perspective on what was happening. The film serves to crystallize this abstract thought, to pinpoint the end of my childhood and to help me relive the end with my newfound perspective. The final film, then, in an elongated way, marks the end of my childhood.
In a global sense the end of the Potter series marks the beginning of our generation’s venture into adulthood. Much like the series’ conclusion our venture is without much direction, all we have is that ideal vision of our future to guide us.
