Foreword by Evanna Lynch

I remember a very particular door of my youth, and the many evenings spent sat in front of it, willing it to open and divulge its secrets. It was about as plain a door as you could imagine, remarkable only for its ordinariness – a windowless, wood-panelled door with a small, gold lever handle – and yet it captivated my attention for hours on end. I sat, staring at those dark oak panels, my frustration mounting as I schemed various ways to get through this mysterious door. Minutes ticked by as I searched for patterns in the wood and scrutinised the hinges, the only sounds the low hum of a radio, a fly occasionally buzzing through, and a set of chimes clinking gently together as the wind disturbed them every few moments. While I waited, I’d flick the light switch on and off, or take to reviving the plant on the windowsill with an acid-green glowing potion.

Oh, it wasn’t a real door. It was an animated drawing of a door, on jkrowling.com. This website comprised a chaotic jumble of paraphernalia you might find on the desk of J.K. Rowling, and when you nudged crumpled-up papers out of the way and clicked on feathers or caught a spider – tickled and prodded the website just so – it revealed untold treasures for a young Harry Potter fan. These included tea-stained drawings of characters, elegantly rendered in spidery penmanship; an early draft page of a chapter from Philosopher’s Stone (Sorcerer’s Stone to visitors from the U.S.), ink blots obscuring some of the words; as well as almost familiar names scribbled out on lined pages, their rhythms toyed with in the margins.

And then there was the door, that impenetrable brown door that you reached via a glowing pink eraser on the desk, and that guarded the website’s most covetable secrets. It only opened a handful of times over the years, and only after you’d answered a series of riddles or puzzles. It was through this door that the world learned the titles, covers and release dates of the final Harry Potter books, precious knowledge that sparkled with promise.

The door remained firmly shut for far more days than it could be opened, sitting solidly there usually bearing a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign which signalled that a certain magic was happening just beyond it: that of creation and imagination – the author hard at work. I knew it wouldn’t open on those days, and yet I wondered if I could wait it out, staying longer than anyone else, and when it assumed nobody was listening, catch a whisper of its latest revelation. In my father’s cosy office, the smell of roast potatoes and gravy drifted under a very real doorframe, telling me time was passing in my life. But I often just stayed there, insisting that I have dinner before the keyboard, or do my homework with the wizarding radio humming in the background, convinced that tonight might be the night the door opens, and I discover something magical that no one else had seen before. It was always with a heavy sigh and a feeling of faint disenchantment that I closed the website and re-emerged to face Muggle life. But my thoughts would snake their way back to that room, fixated on the door, and the infinite mysteries it guarded.

Why did it hold such fascination for me? I’ve wondered that as I pored over the writing in this book, some snippets of which first appeared beyond that door. Why did it override my rational thinking and growing acceptance of the firm line between reality and fantasy? I think it was because the world beyond the door felt completely… unknowable. No matter how much time passed, or how many pearls of wisdom the door gifted us, you could never know all the secrets of the wizarding world. In fact, the wizarding world only seemed to make more sense the more questions you asked of it, arranging itself parallel to our world. And that door – the door that looked so unremarkable that most harried Muggles wouldn’t throw it a second glance – seemed to twinkle with an aura of magic, because it felt like a portal between our world and Harry’s.

The door opened for the final time with the publication of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows in July 2007, with J.K. Rowling writing that the secrets she had carried with her for years would now be passed on to the fans. And while this moment may have signalled the conclusion of Harry’s time at Hogwarts, we were far from knowing all the secrets. In retrospect, the release of the final book seemed to herald a new chapter for the larger wizarding world, which has continued to diversify and sprawl in a thousand different directions ever since. Throughout the years she was writing the books, Jo often hinted in interviews at the boxes and boxes of notes on the backgrounds of characters; spells and subplots that had never seen the light of day, but instead lay in her attic, collecting dust. So you can imagine the practically dizzying sense of euphoria felt by the fans, with the launch of Pottermore in 2012, when it became clear that rather than being a figure of speech, ‘boxes of notes’ suddenly seemed a slight underestimate.

Quite honestly it felt like those imposing, wrought-iron gates of Hogwarts had been flung open – all the Muggle proofing charms undone! – as we were rewarded with reams of writing, on everything from family lineages and other wizarding schools, to complex descriptions of the qualities of wand cores and precisely how hard it is to become an Animagus. Characters who grew to be bigger parts of the stories than previously plotted, and those, no less intriguing, who sadly never made it past their author’s bullet-point descriptions. Histories of wizards stretching back to Merlin, Nicolas Flamel, dark wizards we’d never even heard of, and a short bio of every single Minister for Magic from 1707 to the present day. These are some of the articles laid out in what follows, the majority of which were published in 2013 and 2014 on Pottermore.com. Some of them contain author’s notes, where J.K. Rowling shares more personal reflections, such as source inspirations for names and characters, as well as writerly insights on the joys and pitfalls of deciding the precise parameters of a magical universe. It should be noted as well that all the articles in this book were written in advance of both the Harry Potter and the Cursed Child play and the Fantastic Beasts films.

This collection discusses events that happen throughout the series. There’s much to enjoy here for newcomers and established readers alike, but those determinedly avoiding spoilers should know that J.K. Rowling’s collected writings reflect on key events throughout all seven books. To the seasoned fan, for whom re-reading the Harry Potter books is something of a necessary reorienting experience, this book will only add more dimensions to the original stories. How your jaw will drop to discover the source of Harry’s family’s fortune is the hair product that Hermione uses for her iconic makeover for the Yule Ball. (A fact Harry mustn’t have known himself judging by his many fruitless attempts to flatten his famously unruly mop.) How your heart may hurt for a young Professor McGonagall who made a difficult choice. How you might be appalled to read that a wilful, enchanted book almost stopped Neville Longbottom from getting to Hogwarts. Or intrigued to learn that Luna Lovegood’s dreamy essence appeared on the page as a student named ‘Lily Moon’, even before Lily Potter had her name. How real-world magic seemed to be in the ether when J.K. Rowling unknowingly situated an important magical gateway over the grave of an ancient warrior queen.

Above all, what this book reminds us, as we submerge ourselves deeper in wizarding history, is that, for all its fantastic beasts and otherworldly enchantments, Harry’s story has always had profound resonance in our reality. I’ve found it interesting to observe how re-reading these books at different stages throughout life can act as a mirror, reflecting one’s inner preoccupations and growing awareness of the world, as new themes and characters you’d previously overlooked emerge and come into focus. As a quiet, creative child who longed to find a kindred spirit, I felt comforted reading about the adventures of a trio of unusual, idealistic young people who found each other. Now, as an adult, different themes strike my heart. The loneliness of Remus Lupin. The fallibility of Dumbledore. The preciousness of true friendship.

But what strikes me most of all when I re-read the books now, so keenly it seems to ring off every page, is the deep yearning of Harry for his parents’ love. It’s interesting, isn’t it, that as children we accept the world as it is, however it’s explained to us; Harry, a boy who never knew his parents, snuck out of bed to find an enchanted mirror, and it was all part of the adventure. Yet now when I read the books, I can hardly think of a more heartbreaking image than that of a little boy, traipsing through dark corridors at night to gaze through a mirror, for hours, into the smiling faces of his parents, and how he continued to search for that unconditional love elsewhere – everywhere. What Harry has to learn over the course of his journey to defeat Voldemort, is that his search is fruitless; his mother’s love never left him, instead it binds with magic and runs through his veins, creating a protective shield that the most powerful dark magic cannot overcome. Ultimately, Harry’s is a story that delivers hope, courage and humility as we, too, are reminded that there is no magic, in any world, more potent, magnificent and abundant as love.

I hope, as you immerse yourself back in the lore of Harry Potter, you’ll come to notice the many portals connecting our world to the magical one. They are hiding in plain sight, ready to be discovered or rediscovered, if you look carefully and ask yourself: ‘Is it really just a door, a boot, a map… a book?’ And so, to repeat a common refrain echoed in the days of the wooden door that would cause a flurry of activity and excitement rippling through the fandom: ‘The door is open! I repeat, THE DOOR IS OPEN!’ Let’s step inside…