Would JK Rowling please leave Harry Potter in peace? Back in 2010 was a good time to move on. Harry Potter’s last adventures had hit the bookstores in 2007, and three years later the Warner Bros adaptations had just about run their course in cinemas too. For many millennials, the young wizard had worked his magic through most of their childhood.
But it’s 2018 now, and a new Harry Potter extended universe film, Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald, is out this week. The Harry Potter series, it would seem, truly “opened at the close”. By Dumbledore, I wish it hadn’t.
I love Harry Potter and I always will. It’s all there in my Pensieve: the first delight at reading “Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much”; the wizarding treasure hunt thrown by my parents for my ninth birthday, with my dad dressed as Hagrid in the garden shed; the Beauxbatons parchment letter, written in green ink, sent by my older cousin during my 11th summer; deciphering my copy of Deathly Hallows, the first book I read in English, and having to check the French for “wand”; the 2001 trip to the cinema to see Philosopher’s Stone, and all the ones that followed.
But, in 2010, just as I caught up with Harry’s age of 17, I thought it was finally over.
Someone needs to call a halt to the excessive afterlife of Potter’s fictional universe. It was vast enough in the (seven) books and (eight) films – we didn’t and don’t need a community website, a theatre play, the printed script of said play, a new movie, the printed script of said movie, and even more movies.
I remember Rowling being interviewed, back when she was still writing the books. She talked about the silliest HP marketing ideas that were continually being run by her. On one occasion she was obliged to veto a toilet flush system that sounded like Moaning Myrtle. In my eyes, the Cursed Child play and the Fantastic Beasts films should have had the same treatment: they are inherently unnecessary and, frankly, just a little bit insulting.
My mistake was engaging with them. I didn’t see the play – the script was enough. It mixed the worst elements of bad fanfiction (trying to prolong a hero’s story by moving on to the children; time travel; the utter lack of respect for a fallen character’s arc; and – surprise! – the villain has had children too), with zero inspiration. The first Fantastic Beasts film wasn’t a catastrophe, but it was completely missable even before the series became a magnet for terrible editorial choices, such as giving Voldemort’s snake a very problematic back story. At this point, the whole thing feels like a Cruciatus curse (often used on Muggles): it’s all very painful, and I wish it would stop.
The saddest thing is that Rowling has been complicit in all this. She helped with the writing of Cursed Child and penned the scripts of the Fantastic Beasts series. She regularly “reveals” new details about Potter’s magical world on Twitter.
Rowling’s talent is immense: she has created a 21st-century modern literary classic. As I grew up, I looked up to her as the textbook classy writer: respectfully engaging with readers, successful but wise enough to retreat.
She spoke only when a new book came out, or about causes she held dear. She spoke openly of her struggles living on benefits while writing the first books, and about her early work for Amnesty International. In 2011 alone, she donated 16% of her net worth to charities (about £120m). Of all contemporary authors who hit gold, Rowling remains one of the very most inspirational.
Yet, a few days ago, I gave up: I unfollowed Rowling on Twitter. Every Potterhead has a question they would like Rowling to answer (mine is whether Platform 9 ¾ is linked to the legend that the Celtic queen Boudicca is buried under King’s Cross platforms 9 and 10) and she is kind enough to often take time to read and tweet back. Harry’s world changed her life – I can only imagine how great a task it must be to truly close this chapter.
It’s easier for me, and my choice is made. I won’t follow the next tweet revelations, and I don’t want to see the new film. Thank you, Joanne Kathleen Rowling. My Pensieve is full of cherished stories – I don’t need any more.