Dirty Harry, the final ending

Back to Harry, then...

So, here is the unbelievable truth : Harry Potter ends up a family man, father of two kids, married with his teen-age love (who is the sister of his best pal too, if I remember well).
And I say :
Yuuuuuuuuuuuuuurk !!!!!

What does it mean ? The most powerful wizard ever born, the one with the greatest powers, the one who vanquished Evil itself... leading the life of a middle-class commuter ?

Well, Miss Author, you have to explain this. How dare you leaving us on such a tasteless joke ?

What do you think his readers would have told Sir Conan Doyle if he had explained that, after such and such adventures, Sherlock Holmes had decided to retire in Surrey to play Dad and Mum with Watson, and never to investigate any deeper mystery than "Honey, who said this living-room would look better with a carpet ?" or "Do you remember where my latex suit is, you naughty boy ?"

I know author's defection when I see one. And this, Ms Rowlings, is the most outrageous literary treason since... well, since Sherlock's fake death, as far as I remember.

Let's be serious : it can't end like this. Absolutely not.
Adventure, mystery, life, are bound to put him off the rails of such a monotonous life. Where are the torments of love, the passion for hot Amazon women, the turmoil of discovering his friendship with Neville is may be more than a friendship ? When does he understand that, with all his power and fame, he might as well rule the whole world ? When does he use his invisibility cloack to sneak on muggle top-models ? When does he show off and do magic totally wasted in a Hungarian bar, and set the town on fire ? When does he uses the ubiquity thing to entertain 17 lovers at the same time ?
And after those teen-age bursts (check your Sheakespeare Henry's, Ms Author), when does he use his abilities to make a better world ?
In the last scene of the book, he watches to his children taking the Hogwath's express, just as he himself did some twenty years earlier. Well, Harry, couldn't you at least invent the TGV ?

Because if the apotheosis of one's life is to put his children through what one has been through, well, Ms Author, here's a thing : I won't believe in magic anymore.