By Ellen C. Caldwell
J.K. Rowling’s first Harry Potter book opens with a celebratory scene. Thousands of witches and wizards are crawling out of the woodwork and out of hiding — taking to the muggle (ordinary non-wizarding) streets to celebrate the death and defeat of Voldemort (the fallen wizard-turned-bad Lucifer character). But they aren’t just celebrating the death of Voldemort, they are celebrating the death of their fears and anxieties built up over the last years of Voldemort’s horrific reign. They are celebrating the freedom from this anxiety and they are celebrating the dawn of a new time.
On the morning of November 5th, I came out of my house feeling like one of Rowling’s wizards crawling out of darkness and into the light. I was facing a new world. There was a slight chill and sense of magic in the air as I walked past people smiling at one another — largely and freely, as if we were all exhaling deeply for the first time in months, or years. We all shared knowingly in the miracle that had just occurred.