Regrets
If I picked up that book – maybe, just maybe – my life could've been changed for the better. – tribute, of sorts
When I was a little girl, six-years old – the year, 2007 – I came face to face with a thick, heavy book – titled, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. It was just a book; I remember thinking – nothing special – and put it back on the library shelf.
I went to look for another book – one that was thinner, more appropriate for my age to read – and before I was whisked away by my mum – took a glance at where it sat just mere minutes ago – and I had second thoughts. Should I read it?
Just then – my mum came looking for me; grabbing my hand and leading me to the checkout counter; leaving the book behind – and me, little and naïve – never did I notice that I would just miss out on the one of the greatest things that could happen in my life.
. .
Then I turned nine – where I was on the edge of the land of muggle witches and fairies; sunshine and rainbows – I was forced to get another book, after I quickly finished the other one. I went over to the book nook; the miniature library inside of my classroom – and grabbed the thickest book there – Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban – I remember; and I pretended to read it – not caring much about it at the time due to the fact it was named one of the most boring series' of all time; or so I've been told.
Due to my lack of perseverance and commonsense – and the influence of my classmates over me – I never really did read it thoroughly – and refused the offers of borrowing the books from my teachers.
If I did take it, what would my life be like today?
. .
I was born in the late 90's – 1999 to be exact – and I would never, ever be part of the Harry Potter generation. I would never experience how it would feel like waiting for a new installment of the series; or the excitement of waiting in line to watch the new movie. Just because I never picked up that book in the library one late Autumn day – or the refusals of the offers of the books. I never realized what kind of series that it was until I grew older.
It's now August of 2011 – way too late for me to redeem myself to being part of the generation. I never had been able to stay up late to watch the midnight premiere of the movies – or standing in line at the bookstore the day a new book comes.
I'm now eleven years-old; still a child in some ways, mature in others – but I still have that chilling thought of which if I took that book off the shelf – the last installment of the legendary Harry Potter series by world-renown author and writer; J.K Rowling – would I still be writing stories about it today?
. .
I came to the conclusion of which that I would never know the series better than the die-hard fans, of those who have tailed it since the very beginning – or the ones who waited oh-so patiently for the release of the books and movies – just because I was a naïve, little six-year-old who never did get her commonsense to the best of her.
I never cried when Hedwig fell out of the sky. I never shed tears when Lupin, Tonks, or Fred fell to the ground – unconscious, or when Sirius Black got blasted into the tapestry. I never had any inkling of who those characters might have played a big role in the universal sequence of events of the series. I never had known much, anyways.
I started reading in the middle of the series; Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire – oblivious of the importance of the time line – just to get it over with; I remember saying.
When I read the last chapter of the 4th book – I knew I was hooked on this new series – one that was universally known as one of the best series' of all time. It was a phenomenon and I just sat there in my study – begging my mum and dad to take me to the library for the next book of Harry Potter.
I never read it thoroughly – often skimming and speed reading to just finish it to get the next book – and show that to my parents that I actually read in my spare time; not sitting in front of the television screen or the glare of the computer.
I just was an oblivious girl – not knowing what I've done could have changed my opinion of the books forevermore.
. .
I ended the series just a mere couple of weeks ago – slamming the cover of the hardback of my copy of the Prisoner of Azkaban – having started the series at the Goblet of Fire – it was only reasonable to end with the third.
Then I began to read fanfiction of those – either enjoyable or not. I wrote stories of my imagination and free-verse poems that I gladly delete from the archive. Only then when I came to the forums did my writing change.
I started writing with more flow – having read those with elegant grace and distinctive word choice – and I became better in it. It was wonderful.
The friends I made through the internet – they were talented in so many ways – having followed their writing before I came to the forums. It was amazing to meet them – having them to love the series as much as I do. They were my family.
. .
The legendary Harry Potter series has captured our hearts – either since the beginning or at the close. It has brought us together – old, or young; rich, nor poor – it has captivated our minds and the adrenaline of the action within the pages of these books are what kept us going. Our hearts go to Harry James Potter and co. – going through the things they went through; war, deaths, and life-fulfilling moments – they will go with us were ever we might be.
. .
Also, to J.K Rowling; the creator of this universe that we love so much, this world that some of us like to keep our heads in – taking refuge in the land of Harry Potter – where some of us has grown up in, some in which were just introduced, or the ones who followed it since the very beginning and to the end.
We're keeping the magic alive – even if it already ended.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, obviously.
A/N: I dedicate this to my Next-Gen family - and Alie and Mariana; because they love the series - maybe not as much as me. ;)
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