The end of the Harry Potter franchise created a hole in my heart unfillable by anything but my favorite wizarding series. With five years since the the last book and over one year since the last movie, I’ve struggled with the realization that Harry Potter is over––no more magic. Leading medical professionals diagnosed me with a very serious case of Carentia Magicae Syndrome, or Harry Potter withdrawal.
I must live every day with the overwhelming and all too real symptoms of my disease. Tears come to my eyes at the mention of Harry, Ron, Hermione, and even Malfoy. Sketching the “Deathly Hallows” symbol takes precedence over notetaking. I get twitchy if my Harry Potter hunger isn’t fulfilled and feel emotionally unstable whenever I see an old man with a long white beard. My heart just will not let me believe that it’s over.
Over the summer, I had a breakdown. The shakes were uncontrollable, and I had trouble making it through the day. I leant my Harry Potter book to a friend who was just taking too long to finish, and my annual reread of the series was put on hold. To compensate for the complete lack of magic that was ruining my summer, I locked myself inside for a weekend all alone and rewatched the movies until the symptoms ceased.
Unfortunately, no potion can save my suffering heart. I associate almost all aspects of my life with thoughts of the Boy Who Lived and his magical world. As I haul my oversized and overweight backpack home, I wish I could utter the words “Wingardium Leviosa” to make it magically float by my side. Apparating would immediately get me where I want to go, like the Hogwarts castle at Universal Studios, and “Accio” would bring my lost and silenced phone back to my side. On days with multiple tests, I could sure use some “Felix Felicis” potion for luck.
I have tried to find the magic: going through the mail everyday in hopes of coming across my lost Hogwarts acceptance letter, pushing up against train station walls between platforms nine and ten, or searching mountains for the lost giants. But the mail merely contains ads and bills, the walls are solid, and the mountains only contain the usual cougars and bears. Nothing interesting there.
My muggle life can only be described as mundane. Witchcraft and wizardry only appear in my life when I reread the series every summer. Maybe the magic is supposed to stay unknown to us non-magical folk and leave us wishing for more.