When a character is good, it's hard to say goodbye

Sarah Mabel Hough

is a senior at Temple University studying English

This hasn't happened in a while, but when I used to finish a book whose characters I had grown to love, I would cry a little. I've always done this, even when I was a kid who thought weepy movies were dumb and rolled my eyes while my mom and sister held tightly to the tissue box.

If I was on the bus or some other not-so-private place, and I noticed there were only a few pages left, I closed the book and waited until I was somewhere more intimate. Then I gave it my full attention, careful not to skip ahead and peek at the final sentences. I cherished these fictional people, and to be suddenly shut out of their lives was heartbreaking.

So I get the millions of 20-somethings grieving since the release of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2, the last chapter in the film saga of the boy wizard and his friends. The finale signals the end of childhood. Sitting in the theater watching the credits roll this summer is akin to my curling up on my bed, making those last eight pages last as long as I could.

I was 16 when I borrowed the first book, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, from a friend. I then quickly bought and read the next three but stopped there, consumed by college and other teenage things. However, my interest always peaked when a new Harry Potter film came out. Now 25, I'd like to go back and finish the series, even if it means eventually reaching that dreaded final departure. (Was that why I stopped in the first place?)

Friends of mine were not so timid, and Harry made a difference in their lives. For them, and I bet for many others, Harry provided a connection that can be lacking in the awkward years of elementary and high school. He also taught kids what it felt like to be hungry to read - to crave it.

One friend who wasn't much interested in reading said Harry had "greatly affected" her childhood. "I didn't apply myself as much as I could," she told me. But then her fifth-grade teacher read the first novel in class, and my friend was hooked. She read them all, and developed an insatiable interest in reading.

Another friend, Sarun Chan, told me that he could relate to Harry because he "didn't have great grades [and] was lonely . . . but was able to fill that emptiness . . . with the love of friends and was still inspired to live and sacrifice the little he did have for others." Sarun is a youth-program director who works with adolescents and teens in North and South Philadelphia.

Sarun said it was a mistake to learn the story only through the movies. I have to agree. A couple of people I've spoken to complained that the films weren't graphically violent enough. A pity, considering the story is about morals, not special effects. Harry Potter teaches children about sacrifice, loss, and - most of all - determination.

Compare Harry with that other teen-centered series, Twilight, and the difference is striking.

Hermione Granger, the lead female character in Harry Potter, is strong-willed and intelligent and stands up for herself and her friends. She is a powerful presence. The female lead in Twilight, Bella Swan, is lofty and a bit careless and loses herself to a high school love. In fact, the way she falls apart when separated from her boyfriend is a little alarming.

The message of the Twilight series is also a bit murky. The books center on a high school girl's intense feelings, and the movies focus on sculpted abs. It's obviously geared toward girls. Harry Potter was something that girls and boys could relate to and learn from. What is Twilight teaching? Here's how a widely distributed, and variously attributed, quote put it:

"Harry Potter is about confronting fears, finding inner strength, and doing what is right in the face of adversity. Twilight is about how important it is to have a boyfriend."

Simple, yet true.

Harry Potter, I did not know you as well as others did, but I can guarantee that my son will read about your strength, your courage, your frustrations, and your ability to persevere for what you believed in. That's worth the risk of a final departure any day.