Have you ever missed someone you've never spoken to?
Furthermore, have you ever missed someone, who isn't technically a someone?
I have.
His name is Harry Potter.
For those of you who don't know, I, Emma Louise Lynch, am a self proclaimed Harry Potter addict. My love goes as far as to have a Harry Potter tattoo on my left wrist (the Deathly Hallows symbol with a ribbon around it that says "I've got something worth fighting for". I have a Harry Potter shrine in my room. I have three copies of the books, all with different covers. I have figurines, signed frames, photos, VHS's of the movies, "Making Of" books - you name it.
I remember my first experience of Harry Potter. I was probably about 8, and I went with my best friend at the time to see Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone at the movies. I think I knew almost immediately, even at my young age, how important this was going to be for me. I remember counting down the months, weeks, days 'til the next movie and in preparation reading and reading and re-reading all the books. I was hooked.
It has been over three years since the last movie came out, and over 7 years since the last book. I still remember exactly where I was on both of those days. On the day of the final book release, I was fighting with my mum. I can't remember exactly what for, but she was livid with me. I remember asking her to take me down to Target so I could get Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, and she did, begrudgingly. I was freshly 14. We got home, and she continued her bout of anger and ignored me for the entire day. I sat in the lounge room chair and read that book cover to cover for 12 hours straight. I cried. A lot. I was so glad for the book for the opportunity to take me to a different world so I could forget about what was going on in my life, even for just a little while. This is not the only situation Harry Potter has helped me through.
I remember my first year of high school, when I went to a school with 3 grades, only knowing 8 people, none of which were in any of my classes. They filtered off and made new friends, but I didn't. I was always the fat girl that no one wanted to talk to or be friends with, not because of anything I did, but because kids are cruel. I remember going home every night and crying. I remember feigning sick all the time just so I didn't have to go and face it. My only solace was Harry Potter. I read the books over and over, and went on Harry Potter websites when we were working on computers, which they mocked me for too. Fast forward a few years and I have friends, but the mental damage inflicted has embedded itself in to my head. I was suffering from severe depression, and more often than not, accompanied with that is self harm and suicide attempts. There was one night where I swallowed a heap of pills chased by straight alcohol, which wasn't enough to kill me, but it was enough to make me very sick. Laying in bed, feeling sorry for myself, there was only one thing that helped. Yeah, you guessed it. Harry Potter. Even at my lowest point, when I had no one to help and no where to go and nothing, Harry Potter was always the one consistent thing. The one thing I could rely on. The one thing at the end of a shitty day when nothing could ever possibly be okay that helped. It might not necessarily be reading the books all the time, but it was looking up quotes, looking up interviews with the cast, looking at pictures, researching spells further, whatever it might have been. I cannot even count the amount of times that Harry Potter has saved my life.
As you read above, even on a really shitty day, Harry Potter saved me. I felt more attached to the characters than some of my own family. And even though the final book had been released, it still didn't feel quite over just yet, because I still had the movies. The day they announced they would be splitting the final book into two movies was the best day of my life. "Yes" I thought to myself "It's going to last even longer." But all good things must come to an end.
So when the final movie came out, my emotions were running high. My city didn't do a midnight screening, so I went to the earliest session available - 7am. I couldn't eat. I felt sick. This was the end. The end of the only thing that kept me going. The end of the thing that had saved me numerous times over. I think I sat on the edge of my seat the whole time. I knew what was coming, and each second moved closer to the end...
And then it was over.
It was done. The credits started to roll, and every body started moving, but not me. I couldn't. I turned to look at my friends and just burst into tears. Sobbing. Hysterically. People around me didn't know what the hell was going on. "Who's this queer girl sitting in the middle of the cinema crying over Harry Potter?" I wish they knew.
So it's been three years, and I'm doing okay. Apart from nights like tonight, when I go on tumblr and it'll be the occasional Harry Potter gif set that will stab me right in the heart. I miss him. I miss Harry. I miss Ron. I miss Hermione. I miss Snape. I miss Sirius. I miss the Great Hall, and Potions class, and magic. They're not even tangible enough for me to miss, and that's the hardest part. This phenomenon is such a huge part of my life and there's a hole in my heart that will never be able to be fixed. And it hurts, every. single. day.
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