A Love Letter to Harry Potter
By Jade Fehlen
Content note: We at The Wheel are aware and angered by the recent transphobic and homophobic comments made by J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series. This article is not in support of her but of the wonderful and vibrant community that sprung up as a result of the books. We acknowledge that the separation of the art and the artist is a nuanced and multi-layered conversation, and recognize that Harry Potter is an important part of pop culture and of many of our childhoods. We at The Wheel do not condone any of these comments, and acknowledge the irreparable harm that she’s done directly to the LGBTQ+ community. It’s a privilege to consume her work without thinking about the consequences to those you love. You can find more information on Rowling and the comments here. In addition, information on how to ethically consume Harry Potter can be found here.
When I say I could not decide what to write for this article, I mean it — I could not not decide. Then, it hit me. Write about Harry Potter.
It genuinely would be impossible to overstate the impact Harry Potter has had on my life, and the impact it probably will continue to have. From the moment I picked up that worn-down copy of “The Philosopher’s Stone,” the one my mom had read before I was born, I fell in love with the series. The writing, the characters, the plot: every little detail. I remember loving the words, the way they twisted and turned into a perfect cadence, the way the dialogue characterized each character so well. It felt beautiful and magical and real, as if it were a real, actual place.
I remember one of the many times I was over at my cousin’s house, and she had a massive poster of Harry Potter on the wall, from “Half-Blood Prince.” She said she was going to marry him one day. I teased her, told her he was a fictional character, reminded her she was currently dating someone else (awkward). But, she insisted. And, honestly, valid.
I remember in middle school when I searched up on wikihow how to be like Hermione Granger. I purposely made my hair as frizzy as possible, even though it was really annoying, because it made me feel like her. I would watch and rewatch “Order of the Phoenix” over and over again, just looking at how cool and old they were, studying and being smart and brave, wishing I could be like them. Sometimes I would pretend to be Professor McGonagall in the shower, lecturing the shampoo bottle about how it was late (again, might I add) to class.
In fifth grade, when I got a Kindle for Christmas, I downloaded Kik, and I messaged my other cousin huge texts pretending to be Dumbledore writing to Harry, telling her she was, unfortunately, expelled. (However, he could always bribe his way back in with some delectable snot beans). She replied pretending to be Harry, of course. I genuinely think those were the most melodramatic Kik messages ever sent in the history of the app.
Fast forward many years: When the pandemic hit, I started rereading the “Harry Potter” series. Started trying to be like Hermione again, but in a more studious way. Started reading and reading and reading, Jane Austen and “Anne of Green Gables” and “The Chronicles of Narnia” and “A People’s History of the United States” and “There There.” I listened to Harry Potter ambient music, did distance pre-calc with the Weasleys’ kitchen and yard in my ears. I rediscovered my love of learning and reading and my sense of self through Harry Potter.
Now, as a college student, I find myself discovering it again. I’m reading it again and rediscovering all of the things I loved so much as a kid. It’s a cool full-circle moment.
