The Boy Who Lived
|Jude & the Half-Blood Prince|
But when it got to the point where I could no longer read aloud because I was sobbing, I decided to read ahead once more. Here is a conversation we had after a particularly sad chapter in which Harry digs a rather large hole in Bill's garden:
Me (sniffling): Could you please bring me a tissue?
Jude (sighing): I'll bring you the whole box.
And so, that night, I stayed up until 2am finishing the book. The idea was that if I did all my crying alone, I would be able to control my emotions when I continued to read to Jude.
I was wrong. Still I cried and sniffled and had to stop reading to try to compose myself. When we finished, when I read aloud those last three words, all was well, Jude toppled me with a hug. "I can't believe we've finished!" he said.
And now, a year and a half after we first opened Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, a small part of me has died.
I will never again read those seven books for the first time.
I will read them aloud to my daughter, who is almost five now and already admires Hermione. She will have her own set and I have decided to buy a set of hardcovers for myself. I have my eye on this:
|Harry Potter Hardcover Boxed Set, Barnes & Noble|
The Boy Who Lived will live on. The magic will endure. But it will never be quite the same.