WARNING: THERE ARE SPOILERS FOR HARRY POTTER AND THE CURSED CHILD IN THIS STORY. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
The Harry Potter series and tears are synonymous for me.
I cried when Sirius died. I sobbed when Fred was killed. But when Dumbledore died in Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince? Crying is an understatement – I howled and ugly-cried until my face was swollen and the pages smudged and tear-stained.
Yes, I get a little too attached to book characters.
I was ready to repeat this with Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, the final ‘installment’ of the series released yesterday. After securing myself a copy, I shut myself in my room, curled up on my bed and started to read, exactly as I had done just over nine years ago with the final book and all the books before it.
I really wish I hadn’t.
A few hours later (this one’s nowhere near the ready-made doorstop size as its predecessors) I closed the book.
I hadn’t cried once.
The pages were pristine. There was a faint smile or internal ‘ha!’ in a few places but despite the usual events of death, admirable displays of friendship and good triumphing over evil, my eyes were dry. NOTHING. (And this coming from someone who tears up in adverts.)