I Open At The Close

There's a quote from Neil Gaiman that I've always loved, that I think pertains so perfectly to the way that the Harry Potter series has touched me, and so many other people in my generation, "I would not be the person I am without the authors who made me what I am -- the special ones, the wise ones, sometimes the ones who got there first. It's not irrelevant, those moments of connection, those places where fiction saves your life. It's the most important thing there is."

We were children, all of us when J.K. Rowling first took us away from our world and drew us into another one entirely. A world where pictures moved and spoke, where broomsticks flew, owls delivered letters, and a small, ignored boy could be the most special person to ever live.

That was over a decade ago. And a full decade ago we saw that world for the first time. When we met the visual interpretations of Harry, Ron, Hermione and all the rest of them.

And now it's over. I mean, it's never over, because as Mr. Gaiman said, we all carry The Wizarding World with us. All of it Quidditch and wandlore, and horcruxes and hallows.

Can you guess that I just got in from seeing the second part of Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows? I'm having trouble processing the movie. One of the things that I've always loved about Harry Potter in general is how it borrowed from, well, everything that came before it. The films just as much, if not more so, than the books. And everything about this movie was carefully crafted and borrowed.

The clash of green and red light between Harry and Voldemort, as well as the glowing reappearance of Professor Dumbledore reminded me, in a clear and distinct manner of Star Wars, much as Snape and Narcissa Malfoy's redemption always reminded me of Darth Vader's decision to save his son and soul over his own life.

As Voldemort's forces storm Hogwarts, suddenly I thought of Middle Earth, and Sauron's allies marched towards the riders of Rohan.

But there were other strange parallels that only the pop culture inclined would notice. When Snape demands that the Hogwarts students not aid Harry, I could only think of Alan Rickman demanding that a henchman bring him the detonators. And I thought I could see the glee behind Maggie Smith's eyes as she cast her final spells at Hogwarts.

But the greatest victim of my crowded mind, was The Dark Lord himself. Voldemort is played, after all, by Ralph Fiennes, who I'm pretty sure has never played a good character in his entire career. Or at the very least gave it up some times in the early nineties. Because, really, how do you move past playing the guy who camps on his Warsaw mansion balcony and shoots random Jews in his yard for sport? I'll tell you how, he plays Lord Voldemort. And in one moment in the final movie, he shoots a killing curse at a Death Eater when he's just pissed.

But there's so much more to what Harry Potter means to me than just it's exciting my pop culture sensibilities. As Harry prepared to go to the Forbidden Forest and sacrifice himself, Hermione hugged him and Ron smiled. I thought of Katherine and Jen, and Jenna, and Katie and every other friend I've ever had who knew what was better for me than I did. When Harry spoke to the ghosts of his parents, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, I thought of the adults who guided my way in subtle and unsubtle ways. Of my parents, and teachers, of David, the boss who took a chance on me when no one else would have.

I don't know how to separate criticism of Harry Potter from my own experience. I love this story too much. It's too much a part of me, or at least how I see stories. So it's over now. I'm ready for it to be over, but it keeps going because it's in me, it's in millions of people. So maybe that's all there is to say.