On July 21, 2007, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows was released to the public. On the same day, I turned 14.
Like so many kids at 14 in 2007, Harry Potter was far more than a casual hobby. It was a planet around which I orbited. The books had a special shelf on my bookcase, they were worn from being read and reread, I had a cloak hanging in my closet, and several homemade wands cluttered my room.
These anecdotes are not unique. In fact, what makes them special is that they are so relatable to so many people.
It’s difficult and foolish to try to reduce or explain my relationship with Harry Potter just one element, but one that stands out to me as most notable is the escape it provided.
Harry Potter brought color, dimension, and magic to my world in ways I never thought possible. The series helped open doors to experiences and friendships that might not otherwise exist.
My fourteenth birthday was something of a crossroads, one that felt very significant at the time. I had just graduated from the eighth grade and was moving out of the small community school I had attended since kindergarten. I was set to attend a high school where very few of my friends would be.
Life, in its endless permutations, was changing quickly and with it, Harry Potter was marking its close.
So, on the night of July 20 my best friend and I went to our local Borders and waited for midnight. I came home several hours later, bleary-eyed but full of heart, placed my copy on the pillow next to me in bed and fell asleep immediately.
At the time, staying up past midnight was a relatively foreign concept and I had been convinced – at my mother’s pleading – to wait to start the book until after my birthday party the next day.
The next day my grandparents, uncles, aunts, and cousins all came over to next celebrate my birthday. This is the only birthday in the last ten years where I remember wanting less attention, not more.
In what I considered to be a super-heroic display of patience, I waited all day for them to leave before cracking open the book. When the time finally came, I devoured it.
After I finished the book, I cried big, fat tears. I’m not entirely sure what I was crying about. Perhaps it was simply that the book moved me, which of course it did. Maybe the fact that the series was ending stirred up more emotion than I could process without crying.
My best guess is that, as a kid who was just barely fourteen and very scared of the world, my tears were an expression of plain old growing pains, ones that I had both escaped from and faced by reading Harry Potter.
Ten years later, my relationship with Harry Potter has changed significantly. The gravitational pull that once had such a profound influence on me has weakened. I turn 24 today and I have not reread any of the Harry Potter books in more than five years. I don’t have a cloak in my closet, nor do I spend my weekends having dueling matches with my best friend.
What was once a part of my daily life has become background noise, an element of my past that is far less prevalent than it was when I was 14.
However, despite the smaller role Harry Potter plays in my life today, it’s still undeniably ingrained into my identity. Harry Potter has in some degree, shaped the way I see the world.
Certain things – castles, round glasses, witches hats, snowy owls, and more – all prompt me to think of Harry Potter. More than that, my only believes on morality and mortality have no doubt been influenced by the reading the series at such a young age.
Moreover, even thought the series is not a part of my every day life, it still finds ways to sneak in. In college, I spent several weekends studying for tests and writing papers while Harry Potter marathons played on the TV. When I moved to Los Angeles after I graduated, I bought a season pass to Universal Studios so that I could drink a butterbeer in the shadow of the Hogwarts castle. When Harry Potter and the Cursed Child was released in bookstores last year, I picked up a copy and read it in a week.
Despite how much I’ve changed, Harry Potter remains a piece of me – often unseen, but unquestionably present.
Last week, I was home visiting my family and complaining to my Dad about something that was bothering me. He offered this advice, “What you care about today, you won’t think about a year from now.”
This stuck in my head because, by in large, it’s very true. Take a look around you and think about what you care about. How much of it did you think about a year ago? Now consider a decade ago. There’s probably very little that made it through those ten years with you – family, a few friends, and your passions.
Ten years after the release of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Harry Potter is still a part of my life. Even in a diminished role, it’s still something I choose to remember, celebrate, and enjoy.
I have not forgotten how good it felt as a 14-year-old to escape into that world. While that escape has faded into nostalgia, I still carry it with me, a reminder of the fleeting magic of youth.