Countless people all over the world can remember the first time they picked up a copy of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. I do. After struggling to make it to the end of chapter one, I marked the page with a blue post-it and said it was the dumbest, most boring book that I had ever read in my most authoritative elementary-school-aged voice. A lot of my friends thought I was being ridiculous, questioning why I was boycotting one of the most popular book series in the history of adolescent book series, but I played it off with excuses. “I don’t like fantasy.” “I’ve never really been interested in reading them.” “I’d rather read other things.” This past summer, after much convincing from my roommate and best guy friend, I finally picked up my friend’s weathered copy of the first Harry Potter. A week later, after little sleep and shedding a few tears, I was hooked, wondering why I put off reading them for so long.
Even so, unlike my roommate and best guy friend and others, it seemed I wasn’t quite as linked to Harry Potter as they were. My roommate is a deeply devoted Potterhead and walking thesaurus on the series. My best guy friend bore a likeness to Harry Potter as a child, though he wasn't forced to live in a miniscule closet under the stairs. They grew up with Harry, facing tough teachers and pent-up teenage angst and not knowing where you’re supposed to end up, even if you think you have all the answers at age thirteen. They had to wait years for every new book, wondering if the newest one would be the last. They watched the actors grow up firsthand, saw their characters grow stronger until it was difficult to picture that Hermione or Ron or Snape looked like anything other than their celebrity portrayals. Harry Potter is and will forever be their childhood.
As for me, I was not forced to undergo that same torture. If I wanted, I could read the Wikipedia pages to know exactly what happened before reading the books or watching the films. Naturally, I already knew a few spoilers by the time I began the series, so some of the initial gut-wrenching anxiety over who would make it to the final chapter was alleviated for me. I didn’t have to wait or suffer or long for some of those answers. If a person joins a fandom this late in the game, some view them as bandwagon fans, simply liking said fandom because everyone else does. They can wear t-shirts or create a dedicated Pinterest board or read every fanfiction ever written, bad and otherwise, yet somehow it isn’t the same as those who have been followers since the beginning. I understand that I don’t and will never have that same childhood connection as others, but that doesn’t mean I can’t love the series. I love it differently. In fact, personally I feel that I appreciate it more now than had I read it as a salty fourth grader just because everyone else was. Yes, I was dreadfully, fashionably late to this fandom party, but I did still get an invitation. Or painful arm twist. Or rib nudge. Whatever.
No, I haven’t seen every spinoff or parody video. I can’t recite whole scenes from memory. I don’t own every movie or a battered, well-loved copy of every book. I didn’t cry or post heartfelt fanart depicting Alan Rickman after his death, God rest his soul. Heck, I barely got sorted into my own house (Ravenclaw, anyone?) and paired with a wand before the original Pottermore site closed. But I have an unnatural love for Hedwig. From the beginning, I knew Snape was never the bad guy. I see pieces of myself in Hermione and Luna and even Professor McGonagall (she can transform into a cat, okay? Definitely a crazy cat lady).
So if you’re like me and joined your favorite fandom late in the game, whether it be Harry Potter or otherwise, don’t be ashamed. Embrace it! Consider what it means to you. Though you may not have fond childhood memories, you have teenage memories, or young adult memories, or maybe you’re still making those memories. Hold whatever memories you have close, and don’t let anyone else tell you what you can and cannot be a part of. So yeah, I might’ve been late to the HP party, but I’m still Ravenclawesome.
