Like many tween girls in the early 00s, my personality revolved largely around girl bands, boy bands, David Beckham, glitter gel pens and – of course – Harry Potter. The first book came out when I was nine and I grew up with those characters. I pored over the Mugglenet fan site, stored up nuggets of character trivia and used rudimentary internet Sorting Hats multiple times until I got the Gryffindor outcome I desired. When I was backpacking, I watched the final instalment of the film series in a raucous cinema in the centre of Buenos Aires, determined not to miss out on the conclusion of a global phenomenon.
But I have not revisited the books in adulthood. I own no Harry Potter merchandise. I haven’t seen Harry Potter and the Cursed Child in the West End or the Fantastic Beasts films. I haven’t been on the Warner Bros Studio Tour or visited Platform 9 ¾ at King’s Cross. I’ve never eaten a chocolate frog. Like Miriam Margolyes, who played Professor Sprout in the films, I tend towards the view that Harry Potter was wonderful for kids but that grown adults should be content to remember fondly rather than trying to relive the magic.
With all this in mind, it is hard to feel inspired by HBO’s new TV series adaptation of the books starring John Lithgow, Nick Frost and Janet McTeer alongside a just-announced trio of newcomers to play Harry, Ron and Hermione. After all, this is a story that we already know inside and out. The books have sold over 600 million copies worldwide and the film series is the fourth highest grossing in history. They are not dusty relics of pop culture but still very much alive – and beloved – in the public consciousness. Artistically, it feels like a dead end rather than a new frontier, sitting slap bang in the middle of endlessly mining existing IP and falling back on nostalgia. Reportedly the new show will run for “ten consecutive years” which sounds more like a threat than a treat. Not only will there be inevitable and potentially icky scrutiny of the ageing of the child stars (see Stranger Things), but it’s also eating up a huge chunk of the cultural conversation for the foreseeable future: how tedious to know exactly what we’re in for.
Even the bright spark amongst the casting – Paapa Essiedu as Severus Snape – comes with a tinge of regret that the brilliant I May Destroy You actor will be tied up for a decade being compared to Alan Rickman. Because however much the studio tries to convince us that this is a fresh take on a classic, it still stinks of being a safe bet at a time when the film and TV industry is in crisis. Better to dust off the old wands and robes and cash in on an eager and established fandom than take a punt on something new.
Far more important, though, is that Harry Potter is now forever entangled with the transphobic views of its author JK Rowling. What began with the apparently “accidental” liking of a tweet back in 2018 has spiralled into the full throttle persecution of a vulnerable minority under the guise of being progressive (find a complete timeline here).
Of course, not everyone who enjoys Harry Potter will align themselves with Rowling’s beliefs, but the author’s stance has become toxic for the previously untouchable property, with the likes of Daniel Radcliffe, Emma Watson and Eddie Redmayne publicly denouncing her views. HBO Chairman and CEO Casey Bloys has claimed that the new show is not reflective of them either, despite Rowling acting as an executive producer.
“Emma has so little experience of real life she's ignorant of how ignorant she is.”
But we have now reached a point where a direct line can be drawn between everything related to Potter and the anti-transgender movement. Thanks to Rowling’s rampant and relentless campaigning – from her cigar-toting selfies to her frequent posting on X – not a word will be written or spoken about this new series without giving valuable airtime to the idea that trans people do not deserve the same rights as cis people.
This is not a case of theoretically separating the art from the artist because Rowling is still very much profiting from her work and choosing to spend those profits to further her cause. She was a donor to For Women Scotland whose challenge to the definition of gender under the Equality Act led to the recent decision by the UK Supreme Court to exclude trans women from its protections. This weekend, her latest organisation was announced: the JK Rowling Women’s Fund, “a legal fighting fund for women protecting their sex-based rights”. In practice, this means JK Rowling footing the bills for legal battles brought about by gender-critical individuals and organisations from her own vast wealth.
As such, it can legitimately be argued that consumption of any and all Harry Potter related content and products is an endorsement of Rowling’s agenda. Lining her pockets is now not just about the amplification of a hateful ideology from a position of great influence but akin to donating directly to the oppression of trans people.
Without the Rowling of it all, a new version of Harry Potter would be a fairly boring and needless proposition – one that embodies the laziness and artistic impotence that is currently suffocating a TV and film industry overrun by remakes and sequels. But with the political context of Rowling’s transphobia, it becomes morally as well as creatively bankrupt. You might even say cursed.
