I told myself there was no need to write about Harry Potter. It has been done and said before, everything that I want to say on blogs, in newspapers, in conversations. But the thing is, Harry Potter has had a profound influence on me. On my own experience growing up, and on my own childhood.
I first heard of Harry Potter from my doctor. I went in for a sore throat and he asked me, "Have you read Harry Potter?" I thought the name was ridiculous, but when I received my first paperback copy of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone for Christmas, I read all night under the covers and finished the next day. From then on, I went to every book release and every midnight movie (except the last one, curse of the full-time worker). I was the co-founder of a club in High School called The Order of the Phoenix, as dorky as that is. We waited in line all night for HP7, and met for lunch a few days later, talking for hours about the book and our predictions and our mutual experience of being blown away by this series.
After seeing the final movie last night, I feel pretty empty knowing that it really has come to an end. HP taught me that being smart is cool, that being brave is necessary, that morals still matter. As cliche as it is, I feel so indebted to J.K for a childhood of reading and adventure. She has inspired me so much as an aspiring author and future mother who will raise children in a world struggling with courage and morals.
Without a small tribute to her and the series, it wouldn't feel right.