This is a rather spontaneous post about how total immersion in a fictional world, its characters, its nuances and finer details, can create unforgettable meanings in one’s life. It’s something I want to do with my fiction. I want to give my readers a place they can go that not only makes them happy, but feels familiar. I want them to be comfortable there and greet my characters as old friends. And I want to provide this service because it happened to me first, and to millions of people across the world.
This is sparked by the fact that I just watched the end of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2. I must have watched that ending, where Harry sends his second son off to Hogwarts for the first time, five times. I’ve cried every single time. Now, I don’t usually cry at movies. In fact, I make an effort not to. For whatever reason, I feel bashful about it. So why does this movie pull at my heartstrings?
For Halloween, I dress up as Hermione, my sister as Ron, my friend as Harry. I get my mom to be McGonagall, my dad Hagrid, my friend’s dad Dumbledore, etc.
I did my Pottering. Ten years of it. And every fellow Harry Potter fan has a story like this one. They all know what it felt like to have a Potter-filled childhood. They all suspect that this timeline doesn’t cover nearly everything, and they’re right.
So, why do I cry at the end of the final Harry Potter movie? Because the final scene is all this being carried away by the Hogwarts Express. All of it, to the sound of the John Williams-composed song that first met my ears when I was eight, sitting in a theater with eyes wide, blown away.
(This nostalgic post dedicated to my sister Wendy York, a.k.a. Ron Weasley, who is graduating high school today).