The end of Harry Potter
I can't believe it's over. I can't believe I will never crack the spine of a brand new, completely mysterious Harry Potter book. It's as though the end of a precious era is over, and I'm not ashamed of feeling that way, not in the slightest. Harry Potter means so much to so many people, and I know that if my feelings are anything to go by, exactly what he and everyone in those novels mean to us is impossible to put into words. Reading those books, or even just thinking of them, is like visiting an old friend you grew up with...it's like actually being Harry, or at least being a part of him. It's a combination of things. They're not just characters represented in elegant black text, flatly splayed out on a page...they're real.
At about quarter to one this morning I was reading those final chapters through blurry eyes, the tears dripping down on the page and I just couldn't believe it. I was mourning the fact that this literature was coming to an end. And after I finished the last page and gave the book a pathetic hug, glad no one was watching, I flicked back to the first page and started to read again. Suddenly Harry was back, and I was reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows for the last time, again.
At about quarter to one this morning I was reading those final chapters through blurry eyes, the tears dripping down on the page and I just couldn't believe it. I was mourning the fact that this literature was coming to an end. And after I finished the last page and gave the book a pathetic hug, glad no one was watching, I flicked back to the first page and started to read again. Suddenly Harry was back, and I was reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows for the last time, again.