Fourteen years ago, a bespectacled, scrawny little boy emerged from his cupboard under the stairs to find a letter on his uncle’s welcome mat.
Today, we see the journey of The Chosen One come to an end.
At the tender age of eight, I was exposed to the world of Harry Potter. From the very moment that the greatest wizard of all time pulled out his deluminator in Privet Drive, I was hooked. I, along with millions of people worldwide, became a Potterhead, and a proud one at that.
We grew up with Harry Potter. As we grew older so did the books, growing darker by the page. From the first time Harry discovered he had magical blood to the moment he destroyed his last horcrux, we stood by him as his third companion.
We empathised at the Mirror Of Erised, celebrated on the Quidditch Pitch and gritted our teeth for the mission that lay before our three heroes. Harry Potter has been a continuous part of my life since I first entered the cinema in 2001, and so it was with a heavy heart that I closed my copy of Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows.
The films of course, were no different, and so it was both excitement and apprehension that accompanied me to Merthyr Vue to watch the final installment of the Potter phenomena.
Before I continue, I would like to apologise for any spoilers that I may accidentally drop in here. Having read the book before seeing the film, I can’t really distinguish what stuff I ought to know before I watch it.
Well, in all honesty, the term ‘spoiler’ should be banned when describing Harry Potter films. If you want to know what happens, then read the book. Don’t complain when you find out on accident, because the plot was made public four years ago. But I digress.
Tickets booked, glasses on, and a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt drawn on my forehead, I still felt completely unprepared for what I was about to see. Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows Part 2 is astounding, pure brilliance from start to finish. But of course, how could it be anything else?
The finale of the great Potter experience, it was hardly going to be a dud, now was it? I was expecting spectacular CGI, unrivalled direction, gripping dialogue and of course I was expecting to cry, and I was not disappointed. Even my high expectations were exceeded, and that really is something, let me tell you.
Deathly Hallows Parts 1 and 2 are the only Potter films I’ve been unable to find fault in, and it really goes to show how true Warner Brothers were to the books. For once, everything that I had experienced when reading the wonderful works of J.K. Rowling was portrayed exactly to the standard I had imagined, and we have director David Yates to thank for that.
If he doesn’t receive some sort of award for this, I will have to get violent. And I mean Hungarian Horntail, Aragog, Fluffy The Dog kind of violent. It won’t be pretty.
There is very little I can say about Deathly Hallows Part 2 without giving away any major plot lines. The film is so jam-packed with action, silly incantations and foolish wand-waving that to be specific would be to tell you exactly what happens. I’m assuming that not all of you want that, so I will kindly hold my tongue. Because I’m nice like that.
What I will tell you is that I bawled like a Mandrake. I truly have never cried so much at a film in my entire life. About an hour into the film, the famous Harry Potter score began to play in the background and from thereon in I blubbered like a little baby. I’m not ashamed to admit it.
The film marked the end of an era, and it was so beautifully directed and acted out that I would be worried if I didn’t get upset. Even now I have a lump in my throat the size of a bezoar, just at the thought of never getting excited over Harry Potter ever again.
It’s like having a child grow up and leave home; you’ll still see them, but there are no more first experiences to look forward to. That is a poor metaphor, but it’s how I feel. So sue me.
Harry Potter is much more than a series now. It has the largest fan base of any children’s book, with millions of fan-fictions, websites, fan-arts and videos all over the web. The books have their own theme park, and a genre of music known as Wizard Rock has been established since the turn of the millennium.
If you can honestly tell me that Harry Potter is a load of crap now, then I will be forced to use a bat-bogey hex on you. And trust me, you don’t want that.
Of course, the end of the series doesn’t mean the end of Harry Potter. I’ll still be found muttering quotes under my breath or singing ‘Hogwarts Hogwarts Hoggy Warty Hogwarts’ at times of jubilation. I’ll re-read the series yet again and I’ll hold Potter marathons, insisting that all who attend are dressed in the correct wizarding attire.
The Harry Potter generation of muggles won’t easily forget the wizarding world and after seven books, eight films, three heroes, one fandom and too many awards to list, Harry Potter and J.K. Rowling can safely take their place at the top of Britain’s greatest achievements.
And as I wipe off my hand drawn scar and lament over the end, I am reminded of the words of a very great man:
“To the well-organised mind, death is but the next great adventure”.
Well said, Albus. Well said.