User blog comment:JoePlay/Wizarding World Giveaway/@comment-4157372-20110716232950

Harry Potter is my past, present, and future. I know it's not the end; as Jo said herself at the premiere in London on Thursday; "the stories we love best live in us forever", and I will always be able to relive Hogwarts in new ways. One day I'll get to read them to my children. I'll get to watch them rediscover that skinny, eleven year old boy with over-sized clothes, messy dark hair and bright green eyes, living in a cupboard with absoloutely nothing extraordinary to his name except for the thin, lightning shaped scar on his forehead. I'll again get to cheer when Harry catches the snitch and when Gryffindor wins the house cup. I'll try not to say anything when they're afraid of Sirius Black, and when they condemn Snape for killing Dumbledore, I'll keep mum. But before all that, before I get ahead of myself and start thinking of my own children, I can still go up to my bedroom, pull whichever worn copy of the story I feel like reliving for the night, settle into bed and open to whatever page I like. So I know the series didn't end on Wednesday, but it marked the day that the achievments of everyone affected by Jo Rowling, and the little boy who strolled into her head on a train to Manchester just over twenty years ago, can be celebrated and appreciated.