Harry Potter and the Cursed Child

It happened, Fangirls. They released another book in the Harry Potter series. Like horcruxes, they promised 7, and there ended up being 8. It’s pure magic.


I didn’t go to a midnight release. I didn’t have this preordered for me. I got a ride to Target (where they had/have a poster with a quote that makes things better), grabbed my copy, grabbed some muffins, and went home to read. In about 2 hours, I was done. Shorter than Deathly Hallows (in more ways than one), Cursed Child is amazing and a special entity on it’s own.

I don’t want to give away spoilers, because even though it’s different from the other books (it’s a script of the play, with mild stage directions and everything), its beyond amazing. I had a neighbor say that she didn’t have interest in it because it was so different. But reading it, it follows a similar formula to the old HP books; a child isn’t super happy at home, they go to Hogwarts and hang out with their friend(s), something big happens, and they come home. Except it’s not Harry we’re following so closely, it’s his youngest son Albus Severus Potter.

There are some jaw-dropping moments. There were times when I yelled to my mum that they were “really messing things up,” and times where my language got far stronger. But the thing that I didn’t expect the most, was crying. I knew I was going to cry before I read Deathly Hallows because everything in the books before was leading to a war, so I expected death. I didn’t anticipate what this would lead up to.

There are rumors of the play being something that eventually comes here, probably to New York. I want that very much. I bent over backwards to see Team Starkid on their first tour and at a show in Chicago itself, because it was the closest I could come to seeing something Harry Potter live. But the possibility of seeing this performed live makes me sob. I am the die-hard fan who doesn’t mind the cost, because this is what got me reading. This is what made me love fandoms. And this book embodies the first books, the ones that made me want to read, and be a witch.

Harry Potter means a lot to me. I love reading these stories because it’s such a comfort and a reminder that things could be worse. It’s a little sliver of childhood that I can reach again, whether I’m reading or watching, or even listening. I am astoundedly in love with the Potter series, and I’m so grateful to JK Rowling for giving us another peek into the wizarding world.

If you like fantasy or Harry Potter, or if you like reading plays, read this one. If you’re discouraged by the difference, I encourage you to look past it; I was still fully enveloped in the world of Harry Potter. I got deep enough in where I could see it, just like in the old books. And I loved it.












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