Pottermore

The only thing that I recollect from my second grade school year is that my teacher, Ms. Dixon, was very large and that she read the first Harry Potter aloud to us.

I also remember that I checked out the second in the series a few weeks afterwards and some know-it-all kid on my bus telling me my parents wouldn't want me to read it because of it's satanic themes and other such nonsense.

So, me being the good Christian daughter that I am, I came home and promptly hid the book under my pillow until the evening when I was "asleep" and could read in peace.

They didn't know about the pentagram hidden under the carpet either.

It wasn't until the fifth book came out that I too decided to come out of the closet and declare my Potter fanaticism. My parents weren't surprised in the least. It seems that I was not as sneaky as I had originally thought. 

They didn't mind of course. They knew that I wasn't going to hurl myself off a building with a broomstick and hope to fly, so they saw no harm in my reading the books. Just for the record, I'm very thankful of my parents for that.
Moving on.

With this final movie it all came to an end. There will be no more of the series. Or at least, there better not be, it would seriously cheapen the story. And there will be no more movies.

So of course I'm exceptionally sad about that; the finality of it all.

But the means to the end. Everything that was in between the beginning and the end made the finality worth it.

Jo brought so much life to three fictional adolescents and through that life, she in turn brought it to her readership. She made literature relavent to an age group and opened doors to the imagination that no one has since come close to touching.

She done good, and I enjoyed every moment of it.