It was one day in elementary school, and I closed the book just before school was over, and I had read a few chapters with the Philosopher's Stone. Just as I was walking on the playground after school that day, I was silently reciting the name of each chapter I just read in my head. The illustration of Peeves in one chapter still strikes me, like some kind of paranoia that always accompanies it. After another winter vacation in elementary school, the time now seems to be too old for me to verify. I watched the fourth from the first in the dim and warm hut of my grandma's house. Because of these books, I was immersed in an unreal weakness that whole vacation. Later, I clearly remember reading the Order of the Phoenix hiding in the shadow of the brick wall in the yard. It was a summer afternoon, the sun was clear and the air was comfortable; I read most of the Half-Blood Prince on my bed; In my first year of high school, I could pick up the book after school every day regardless of homework, and it took a few nights to end the story. Most of these seven books can remember irrelevant details, but some of the relationships are still unclear. When watching a movie, they will ask questions like an idiot. Even though I have read each book many times. Every time I wait, I know that it will be the next wonderful journey. After the book is over, we still have the long-awaited movie version to wait for. But this summer, every time I think of these four words, I feel infinite sadness, because the final round of sorrow and joy has finally come. Originally, I didn't want to do anything today, but I suddenly remembered the day of the premiere, and then I remembered an old classmate I hadn't seen for a long time. So in front of the curtain, I took on the rather lame dubbing and the neck pain caused by the seat too far forward, patiently getting through the boring dialogue at the beginning, resisting the urge to make fun of Harry and laughing at Ron, and the textualists next to the screen were stunned. I don't care because I don't remember, I've been accused of being unfaithful to the original, and every now and then I'll take a look at Hermione, and I'll take a few more glances at my favorite old woman, Professor McGonagall. The grand occasion of Neville's growth, Harry died and came back to life, justice turned defeat into victory, the excitement after the catastrophe and the darkness of the screen, 19 years later, the subtitle finally appeared, and Potter appeared with another handsome young man who seemed familiar On the edge of the Hogwarts Express, the kid asked his father sadly what he would do if he didn't enter Gryffindor, and then everyone waved goodbye, and the picture freezed and dimmed on the faces of several people, but it was more than a hundred minutes. Goodbye, platform nine and three quarters. Walking out of the cinema, the escalators going downstairs are a bit slow. After watching the movie, I was so calm that I was a little surprised, and I didn't mention the sadness about Harry's ending when talking with my friends over dinner. Just like now that my age starts with two, when I see the word privet, I will pause to think whether it is some kind of shit plant or the road in the fairy tale that has excited me for many years. It's the only story that grew up with me, and it's too much to refer to as if it were my entire past. It's as if I would also mention it without realizing it, that is, when I was watching the Half-Blood Prince, I got acquainted with each other and separated from each other. The children who fantasized about receiving a book from an owl on their tenth birthday have grown so tall, and I have to look up to him. This is the end of the magic story, and no one will go with him. Because we too have matured to become storytellers. Growing up with Harry was something I couldn't be prouder of, it's the same but not the same as everyone else. Thank you Rowling for taking us from Privet Drive with the boy, it's time to say goodbye. Thank you for being naive and giving me dreams to do. 2011.8.4 Old article reissued.
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