The Scene Where Harry and Hermione Dance
Twirling between despair and hope
It’s the end of a long work day. I’ve turned all the lights off in the house, turned on my relaxing mood lighting and it’s time to decompress. Playing through my airpods, is a song I’ve listened to on repeat for the last six hours.
A slow tune with a consistent sputtering of the drums and clash of the cymbal. For some reason today my brain was calling for it. Every now and then I have the desire to listen to this song and once I turn it on, I keep it on for hours. I find the tone of the vocals soothing, they relax my tense muscles and calm my ever-racing mind. This song brings peace, which is ironic because it starts with the words, ‘Pass me that lovely little gun…”
I think I’ve listened to this song at least hundred times, and I’m embarrassed to admit, I don’t really know the words to it. Something happens to my brain when it comes on, I feel like I float away into an alternate universe. It’s dissociative in a way. My mind wanders but also simultaneously becomes completely focused. I imagine this is how people who live without anxiety feel all the time…Present, relaxed, hopeful even? I dream.
Music has always been a deeply spiritual experience for me. As I’ve grown older, I’ve realized that I feel emotions more intensely than most. Music doesn’t just reach me, it transports me. First, it takes me to the artist’s world, immersing me in the emotions they felt when creating it. Then, it carries me back to my own memories, anchoring me to the time and place where I first heard it. Over the years, I’ve noticed how songs evolve in meaning, shifting alongside my experiences and emotions. I form intricate connections to the lyrics, the melodies, and the way a single riff can stir something deep within me, whether it makes me tear up, unearth a forgotten memory, or completely carry me away.
I first heard this melancholy melody when I was 21 years old. You see there was this globally-adored book series titled, ‘Harry Potter’ have you heard of it? 2010 was the year Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1 was released in theaters. There is a quiet yet poignant scene where Harry and Hermione share a dance inside their tent. This moment occurs while they are on the run, searching for Horcruxes, and Ron has temporarily left them after tensions rose within the trio.
The scene begins with Hermione sitting in the dimly lit tent, lost in thought, grief-stricken over Ron’s departure. Harry notices her sadness and, in an effort to lift her spirits, he approaches her and playfully invites her to dance. Then, there it is, a soft, but dramatic song, "O Children" by Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds plays on the radio as Harry takes her hand.
At first hesitant, Hermione eventually gives in, and the two begin to sway awkwardly but sincerely. Their movements are lighthearted and spontaneous, a brief escape from the heaviness of their journey. As they twirl and laugh, their expressions shift between joy and bittersweet sadness, reflecting their deep friendship and the unspoken weight they both carry.
The dance slows, and for a moment, they share a lingering gaze filled with mutual understanding, but also recognizing the unshakable presence of Ron in their lives. Without saying a word, Hermione pulls away, and the moment ends.
This scene, though not in the original book, offers a tender glimpse into Harry and Hermione’s friendship, showing how even in the darkest times, small acts of kindness can provide comfort.
That scene has stayed with me ever since. I remember sitting in the theater, watching it unfold on screen, and bursting into tears. (Which, honestly, isn’t surprising, I cry at everything.) It did exactly what it was meant to do: it left an imprint on my soul. In that moment, I felt deeply connected to the characters.
It’s easy to get lost in the fantasy of stories like these. Of course, I’m not a wizard, and no matter how hard I try, I’ll never cast a spell or walk the halls of Hogwarts. I’ll never soar on a broomstick, wander down Diagon Alley, or summon a Patronus to fend off Voldemort. But what I can connect to is the depth of their emotions, the fear, the hope, the resilience. And in that, magic feels real.
I, too, have faced moments so overwhelming that the weight of the world felt unbearable. Moments where the path ahead was uncertain, yet I knew I had to keep moving. Where, even as everything seemed to collapse around me, I forced myself to pause, to find even the smallest glimmer of good. Because the alternative, the thought of losing hope entirely, was far more terrifying.
I come back to this song when I need a moment to pause and rediscover hope. The use of O Children in that scene was no accident. The song is haunting, filled with quiet resilience, just like the moment it underscores. It carries sorrow, the weight of past mistakes, and the inevitability of moving forward. That’s exactly where Harry and Hermione find themselves: exhausted, broken, yet still standing. The scene lingers not because of grand magic or epic battles, but because it captures something deeply human. Pain, uncertainty, and the desperate need to hold onto hope, even if just for a fleeting moment.
In the movie, as Harry and Hermione dance in the dim glow of the tent, their problems don’t disappear. The war still rages, the weight of loss still presses down, and the path ahead remains uncertain. But for those few seconds, none of that matters. They take a breath, find solace in music, and remind themselves that they are still here. Still moving forward. Still holding on.
This song gives me that same reassurance that everything will be okay. Life can be overwhelming, chaotic, relentless. But sometimes, all you need is a pause-a song, a moment of stillness, a reminder to breathe. No matter how impossible it feels, things will get better. I put this song on today because I needed that reminder. The weight of my to-do list, the pressure to excel, the exhaustion of constantly pushing forward, it all felt too heavy. But this song gave me the space to step back, to feel, to let go.
Because no matter how hard things seem, everything has been okay before, and it will be okay again.