As I think back I can still see it. I can still remember my wide eyes gazing in amazement and wonder at the pictures on the huge wide screen in that musty cramped theater. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's stone had been the first movie I had ever seen in cinema. My love for the stories came far before, the printed words once sprung from the ink that lulled me to sleep everynight, the pages falling out like autum leaves from the battered spine that had been layed open to many times. It had also been my first book ever, the first book that helped me slowly progress to my love for reading, the book that taught me what it meant to imagine...
Eight years later and I sat on a similar chair in a simliar musty cramped theater, my eyes still glued on the big screen like the very first time they did while the pictures danced before me, my heart pounding heavily. Many laughed when Hermione used the pollyjuice potion to transform into Bellatrix, many fan girls whistled when Harry and Ron began to take their cloths off, everyone stopped breathing when Voldemort killed Harry and everyone clapped when Bellatrix died and Neville beheaded the damn snake. Then slowly, as the movie came to an end and the end credit crawled into view, I couldn't help but feel sad. Extactic still with the events of the movie but at the same sad that it had finally ended. Like an emptyness vaguely filled with satisfaction.
The movie was incredible. The side effects, the war, all the caracters (except a few), everything was just as I expected and much more. Maybe it was because it was dead on what I imagined it to be that made me feel even sadder. All the way home I bragged with my sister, reliving the scenes once more yet when we arrived at our house and all through dinner we sat in silence, paying a silent tribute to the endings of one of the greatest stories of our time.
Farewell Harry Potter...
