My Harry Potter Obsession

Harry Potter is the closet thing I have to an obsession.

In fact, I’m pretty sure it IS an obsession. I have lived and breathed the Harry Potter books since the first one, reading each volume many times. I’ve read the first five books upwards of fourteen times a piece and I’m currently reading book six for the eighth time.

I have never experienced anything like my love for the Harry Potter cannon. I know that these books have become a part of me, that they are probably the best books I have ever read. If there was a fire in my house the firs thing I would do is grab my cat. Then my Harry Potter books. I would happily leave everything else behind, as long as I had my HP books under my arm.

What is it that makes the books so good?

I couldn’t tell you. It’s hard to pin down one element that makes the book shine so much and so beloved. Whether it’s the characters, the story of good versus evil, the idea of an unfortunate boy being thrust into fame, who can say. But everything mixed together forms a tapestry that continues to shock and amazes me, long after their first reading.

With the seventh and final book in the series approaching, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, I’m becoming rather emotional. I want and need this book so badly but at the same time I know it will be the end. There will be no more Harry, Ron or Hermione. Mr. Weasley will no longer obsess over Muggle Artefacts. I will never again read about Ms. Weasley’s amazing clock. I won’t be able to read about Hagrid and some new obsession with fantastic beasts.

My heart feels as if it’s ripped in two.

I know that there are thousands, or rather millions, of readers who feel the same way. We are all anxiously awaiting the new book and crossing off each day. Some may have a Harry Potter countdown clock on their computer desktops. Some may be crossing off each day as it ends. I myself am crossing each day off on my calendar with a big red X. Those X’s make me happy, knowing that I am one day closer to the moment of truth.

But on the other hand, I feel like I am preparing for a funeral. Indeed, I am. Rumours are running amok, each one more ludicrous and outlandish than the last. But the one rumour that JK Rowling has confirmed is that two main characters will die. I don’t know if I can stand that; I don’t know if my heart will be able to take it.

My husband has graciously accepted my Harry Potter obsession. By this I mean that I’ve pretty much not given him a choice. I have my coffee out of a dark blue mug that bears the Hogwarts crest. I have Harry Potter figurines that guard the books while they are sitting on my bookshelf (Harry, Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, Dumbldore and Hedwig). I have a small collection of Harry Potter lego that graces my desk. I have Harry Potter stationary, Harry Potter stones; I even have a poster for the second movie dry mounted and looking gorgeous.

But none of that compares to my obsession for the seven books. Combined, I have read the Harry Potter books more than any other book that I own. I find myself wondering what will come after Harry Potter. Will I ever feel such love, such devotion, for any book again?

Probably not. I’ve already warned my husband that I’m probably going to be a big, blubbery, crying mess while I read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Not only is the book going to be a bloodbath, not only are two main characters (and maybe more) dying; but it feels as if I am saying goodbye to quite a few of my best friends.

I know that whatever Rowling writes after Harry will be gold, but I don’t think it will ever be the same. Millions have fallen in love with a boy wizard destined to defeat evil. I think that, in the end, Harry Potter is the greatest story ever told.

So will I be in line on July 21st to buy my copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

Yes.

But I’m also going to be buying a box of tissues because I know I’m going to need them.