Well.
I did it.
As of ten minutes ago, I finished DH, the last Harry Potter book, and consequently, the end of an era and an age, much like I imagine the last of Tolkien's books were.
I'm still in a state of shock. That glorious feeling where my soul can only hum in contentment, that curious sensation that only lends itself to one who truly finds the beauty in the art of storytelling, and the appreciation of a thorough exploration of human nature.
I'm not even fully coherent. For the first five minutes after I finished the epilogue, I could only grasp the book to my chest and stare into space, tears prickling at the corners of my eyes and feeling both elated and empty at the same time.
Snape's fate was ungallant, and entirely unfair, which is what I'm sure JKR had intended. Not every hero is lamented, nor every brave action rewarded. Sometimes, heroes die in the lowest of gutters, alone and friendless. I had to put the book down for a bit after I read his death scene. I cried yet again.
A strangely repeating theme with this book.
But I digress.
I was always a Snape supporter, because there are certain parallels that I tend to draw between us. But for the lack of bitterness and certain familial situations, Snape and I could very well be the same person. Flaws as well as virtues, though I doubt many of you saw them.
Dumbledore? What can I say? The road to hell is paved with good intentions. He was a scheming old man who caused more trouble for everyone with his actions than he actually helped. I would even argue that he essentially created the monster known as Lord Voldemort. But then, a perfect character does not a good story make. He was personified in DH, something I truly appreciated, because it was such a hard thing to do. Most of us who grew up reading Harry Potter, always had this image in our head that Dumbledore was the next coming of Merlin. A great deal of fanfiction reflects this, I should think. To make him human was a monumental task, and I commend JKR for managinng it, it not nailing it on the head.
JKR drew us into such a war torn mindset, that each death took a bit of our souls with them. Of all the deaths that were mentioned, the death of one Tom Marvolo Riddle tore at me the most.
I held not hatred, nor contempt, nor gladness in my heart when he fell. Instead, there was pity. If only he had been shown the right path. If only he had been showered with a little more love than praise. If only his mother had not been a coward. If only, if only...... There is no doubt that Tom was a twisted creature, a murderer and vile. But still, there was a spark of pity in me for the person who needed love most desperately, though he hated and despised it as he would a thing to be scraped off of the bottom of his shoe.
The image that haunted me the most was of that huddled, shaking, tortured child, who could only wail in pain and loss the entire time he was trapped in Harry Potter's soul. Can you imagine how very different things would have been had Dumbledore attempted to simply be kind and act as a father figure to the boy instead of eyeing him warily and with mounting suspicion with each passing year at Hogwarts?
Tom Marvolo Riddle. A boy who twisted the ideals of purity and honor until only the desire for power and hunger to be accepted remained.
Yes, this was a fitting climax to Harry Potter. Though, I can't help but wonder if one can truly call this a happy ending. People died, souls were lost, and some things were discarded, never to be found again. I think that the hope symbolized in the epilogue is what made this happy ending a reasonable success. Good always triumphs over evil, though not without heavy sacrifice and suffering to achieve it.
And now my friends, if you will excuse me. I'm off to bed to dream a dream of a young boy and the chance that perhaps things will not be so bad in my dreams.
Tom Marvolo Riddle will only be a name. And Harry James Potter will grow up with a face unblemished.
Good night.
I did it.
As of ten minutes ago, I finished DH, the last Harry Potter book, and consequently, the end of an era and an age, much like I imagine the last of Tolkien's books were.
I'm still in a state of shock. That glorious feeling where my soul can only hum in contentment, that curious sensation that only lends itself to one who truly finds the beauty in the art of storytelling, and the appreciation of a thorough exploration of human nature.
I'm not even fully coherent. For the first five minutes after I finished the epilogue, I could only grasp the book to my chest and stare into space, tears prickling at the corners of my eyes and feeling both elated and empty at the same time.
Snape's fate was ungallant, and entirely unfair, which is what I'm sure JKR had intended. Not every hero is lamented, nor every brave action rewarded. Sometimes, heroes die in the lowest of gutters, alone and friendless. I had to put the book down for a bit after I read his death scene. I cried yet again.
A strangely repeating theme with this book.
But I digress.
I was always a Snape supporter, because there are certain parallels that I tend to draw between us. But for the lack of bitterness and certain familial situations, Snape and I could very well be the same person. Flaws as well as virtues, though I doubt many of you saw them.
Dumbledore? What can I say? The road to hell is paved with good intentions. He was a scheming old man who caused more trouble for everyone with his actions than he actually helped. I would even argue that he essentially created the monster known as Lord Voldemort. But then, a perfect character does not a good story make. He was personified in DH, something I truly appreciated, because it was such a hard thing to do. Most of us who grew up reading Harry Potter, always had this image in our head that Dumbledore was the next coming of Merlin. A great deal of fanfiction reflects this, I should think. To make him human was a monumental task, and I commend JKR for managinng it, it not nailing it on the head.
JKR drew us into such a war torn mindset, that each death took a bit of our souls with them. Of all the deaths that were mentioned, the death of one Tom Marvolo Riddle tore at me the most.
I held not hatred, nor contempt, nor gladness in my heart when he fell. Instead, there was pity. If only he had been shown the right path. If only he had been showered with a little more love than praise. If only his mother had not been a coward. If only, if only...... There is no doubt that Tom was a twisted creature, a murderer and vile. But still, there was a spark of pity in me for the person who needed love most desperately, though he hated and despised it as he would a thing to be scraped off of the bottom of his shoe.
The image that haunted me the most was of that huddled, shaking, tortured child, who could only wail in pain and loss the entire time he was trapped in Harry Potter's soul. Can you imagine how very different things would have been had Dumbledore attempted to simply be kind and act as a father figure to the boy instead of eyeing him warily and with mounting suspicion with each passing year at Hogwarts?
Tom Marvolo Riddle. A boy who twisted the ideals of purity and honor until only the desire for power and hunger to be accepted remained.
Yes, this was a fitting climax to Harry Potter. Though, I can't help but wonder if one can truly call this a happy ending. People died, souls were lost, and some things were discarded, never to be found again. I think that the hope symbolized in the epilogue is what made this happy ending a reasonable success. Good always triumphs over evil, though not without heavy sacrifice and suffering to achieve it.
And now my friends, if you will excuse me. I'm off to bed to dream a dream of a young boy and the chance that perhaps things will not be so bad in my dreams.
Tom Marvolo Riddle will only be a name. And Harry James Potter will grow up with a face unblemished.
Good night.
