There’s one person at every sold-out movie premier who is the first to enter the theater and claim the perfect seat. At the midnight showing of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2, that was me.
The Harry Potter series was an important part of my childhood. When I was eight my dad returned from a business trip to London with the first three books. At first I was intimidated by the title, but when I finally gave Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone a shot, I realized that it was about a dorky kid searching for his niche in the world. The nerdy little sister of two wildly popular, athletic, and successful siblings, I empathized with that feeling.
When I came to Cornell—a campus as secluded and far away from New York City as Hogwarts is from London—I realized that I wasn’t the only one. There’s a Harry Potter Library (the ubiquitous nickname for the A. D. White Memorial Library) and a yearly Harry Potter night in Risley’s “Great Hall.” In the fall the Arts Quad becomes a practice field for the Cornell Quidditch team, and it’s not uncommon to hear the Chimes play a rendition of “Hedwig’s Theme.”
On opening night for the final film, I got to the theater six hours before showtime to vie for the perfect seat, armed with pumpkin lattes and the Mystery at Hogwarts board game (the Harry Potter equivalent to Clue). I played Harry Potter Uno with a group of middle-aged Slytherins and split a box of Bertie Bott’s Magical Beans with a Luna Lovegood on my left. Realizing we were among the few people not in costume, my friend and I made a run to Target to buy eyeliner for a thunderbolt scar.
Although the movie was phenomenal, the experience was bittersweet, because it was the end of an era. Harry Potter has been a major cultural reference in my life for the past twelve years. Now that the saga is over, do I have to grow up?
— Heather McAdams ’14