***WARNING***

CONTAINS SPOILERS!

On Sunday morning, I awoke excitedly, with one thing, and one thing only, on my mind. HARRY POTTER.

The day felt understandably reminiscent of the publication days of the original seven books. I remember the unbound excitement, the feeling of pure, undiluted joy of holding the long-awaited next instalment in your hands, and the heart-quickening, almost panic-like, anticipation you would feel as you opened the first page, and read the first word.

In many ways, this day was just like that. There were launch events at all my local Waterstones. There were Harry Potter parties and Quidditch Tournaments and Butterbeer Pong and fancy dress events at bookshops across London. Every bookshop in the world probably had at least one beautiful display counting down the days until the ‘Eighth’ Harry Potter book. The eighth story, nineteen years later…

But unfortunately, this is where the first hurdle arises. I have tickets to see the play in September, and I have heard absolutely nothing but positive things about it. And I know it will be visually and magically stunning – I can’t wait! But reading the script I feel was a totally different experience, and not at all what I was expecting it to be.

I have read scripts, and screenplays, before, and always liked them. Some of my favourite stories are scripts! However, it was an odd and slightly bumpy experience to read Harry Potter in a script format. I have no doubt that the stage performance will be absolutely incredible (and I still can’t wait to see it in September!) but, for me, something about the story just didn’t sit right.

I read it in one sitting, which in hindsight I wish I hadn’t done. I wish I had taken more time on it – digested it slowly, appreciated it for what it was – an insight into the later lives of our beloved trio and a revisit to the Wizarding World. But even then, I don’t think I would have been that impressed.

The problem was that I was so unbelievable excited to hear from Harry, Hermione, and Ron and the rest of the Wizarding World again that I ended up being entirely disappointed. This in itself is shocking – I have never in my life been disappointed by anything Harry Potter related. But when you remember that this wasn’t singularly written by J.K. Rowling, it kind of makes sense.

I didn’t recognise the characters. I didn’t recognise Harry! His relationship with his son made me sad, which is fine – I appreciate that this was a huge part of the plot, and I did enjoy their journey as father and son and the resolution that bought them closer together. But what upset me the most was that all of the things that Harry said, to me, didn’t seem like he was himself at all. And to be honest, I’d like to think that us original Harry Potter fans know him pretty well. We lived through seven adventures with him over our entire childhood – his thoughts and experiences were ingrained into pretty much everything we did. The Harry Potter that exists in the Cursed Child just didn’t feel like my Harry. I also seriously struggled to imagine Hermione as the same person I read in the Deathly Hallows. I even found it difficult to picture Draco Malfoy. I do know that they have grown up since then. They are decades older, and have had many different experiences that we haven’t been there to witness – but there wasn’t even a smidgen of their old characterisation hidden in them. They felt like entirely new characters, and it just didn’t sit right with my idea of Harry Potter and the memories I have of the series.

I am aware this is completely based on my own interpretation of Harry as a character, and my own depiction of the Harry Potter books. Everyone views them differently, and I am sure there are many people that loved everything about this story.

I however, did not. This makes me seriously sad, and in a strange way I wish I hadn’t actually read it. Jack Thorne and John Tiffany’s writing influence was not an addition that I liked. As much as I appreciate that this is a script, and scripts in general are obviously entirely different to novels… They lack the ability to be able to set a scene and depict emotions quite so cleverly as prose does; they are in every single way, a totally different reading experience. And because of these facts, a script, to me, feels like a strange way to bring Harry’s story back to life.

My biggest issue, other than the strange re-characterisation, was the plot. God, the plot holes. There were so many! The magic lacked any authenticity. Draco Malfoy wingardium leviosa-d a character away (I mean, really?!) This is not something I was aware was even magically possible in any Harry Potter novel, ever? And then there were just many other weird things that happened, that just didn’t seem realistic to me. I didn’t recognise hardly any of the spells; I didn’t believe the fact that the Trolley Witch was just casually strolling her trolley along the roof of the Hogwarts Express with spikes for hands. And who and what the hell even was Delphini? The weakest, most insubstantial character ever created? And not forgetting the fact that the Malfoy’s were apparently in possession of a time-turner this entire time and never once used it?!

One of the things that makes Harry Potter, as a series, and as a reading experience, so incredibly great, is that the magic is ingrained in real life. J.K. Rowling’s writing was so true, so authentic, her stories and character’s so beautifully crafted, that it was always hard to imagine that none of it was real. It felt grounded in reality. Her stories were substantial, self-consistent; they followed canon; you could trust them.

This play lacks all of this, inherently. It’s too fast paced to be believable. There were too many plot twists for it to be clever; too many things that happened in too short a space of time for it to feel like a genuinely good piece of work. I’m going to reiterate what I have heard said many times – it read like a fan fiction. Sadly, truly, it did. I couldn’t see J.K. Rowling in it, anywhere.

Nineteen years later… and the magic just isn’t quite up to scratch.