This past week I bid a fond farewell to a pair of fictional friends — Harry Potter and his friends, and David Tennant as Doctor Who. I must admit to having been a wee bit melancholy to know that I’ll not see anything new of them, ever again.

First, young Potter.

I never read the books. Don’t intend to. But I saw each film, and loved them all. I remember my first H.P. experience. When the first movie was released, I watched it in an almost deserted theater in Kalamazoo on Thanksgiving Day. I expected it to be OK but I wasn’t prepared to be swept away by the sense of magic and wild-eyed wonder that the film evoked. As the series progressed, the characters became more complex and the plots, darker. Yet enthralled I remained, until I watched the final scene of HP7.2 yesterday with more sadness than joy.

As for Tennant, all I can say is that his mannerisms and adventures made him the archetype of the Doctor. I watched both the end of Series 4 and “The End of Time” movies, and seeing Tennant’s Doctor engage in his valedictory lap, complete with companions of old, made me feel like I was losing a friend.

I don’t normally react to film or television like this. Sure, there are some programs and movies I’ve enjoyed, and some that have moved me to tears or laughter or anger, but I generally dont’ experience a sense of loss (albeit mild) when a fictional character reaches his retirement.

I must be getting all mushy in my old age.