Back in the day I'd always interpreted the Potter series as being largely a satire against the British ruling class for being a bunch of arrogant, short-sighted bigots who make themselves more miserable for no good reason. While there are some parts of the books that make a fairly explicit a connection between the politics of Thatcherism and the colonialist history of Britain, it's hard not to look at Rowling and think she actually did intend the world to be something that people would, for god knows what reason, want to get lost in. Perhaps this was just her politics shifting when she saw how much money she could get from the Universal Studios deal.
Either way the books wind up developing into something with all the taste of, well, something cooked up by the British because she could never get over the idea of Potter as a special boy, and the entire back half of the series is basically the story of a whiny entitled asshole who continues to have easy victories without really trying because of the sacrifices of the people around him, which he never actually comes to appreciate.
I've said it before elsewhere but I'll say it here because I haven't yet: these books are a huge reason why I don't actually read much fiction these days.
Anyway the people playing the new game are funny in a sick way to me, because imagine having your childhood so thoroughly colonized by the series that you can't stop for what amounts to an incredibly mediocre game, one that looks like it was developed by 5 people whose only design direction was an executive who was narrating a dark souls speedrun he once watched while extremely high. My hyperfixations are not by any means a secret on this website, and I still haven't played Sonic Frontiers, and at least that game looks like it has some fucking original ideas in it.
Anyway it would have been interesting if the Fantastic Beasts movies had been more explicitly about the way that Churchillism was not so much opposed to the beliefs of the Nazis (as the UK was concurrently doing almost exactly the same things in Kenya, right down to their death camps extolling the virtues of labor as freedom) as it was about the specific fact that the Nazis wanted to conquer all of Europe and Britain is, technically, part of Europe, but if that was their intention they fucked it up so badly that nobody actually knows what these movies are about, including anyone who's watched them. Truly a series whose dogshit storytelling has had more lows than highs; indeed, an almost unbroken streak of lows since the first three books.
What I find particularly amusing is that the sort of people who could possibly want to play the game is that they're surely the exact same sort of people who would be upset were it to be revealed that the game ends, irrespective of choices, with your mentor dying and a guy named Rookwood having cursed someone named Anne, with goblins framed for that curse. These are the same sort of dullards who were shocked that Tony Stark died at the end of Avengers: Endgame, despite the immediately-preceding film all but selling him as the cop one day away from retirement, and these films having the single most predictable structure in all of filmmaking. So I think they'd be very, very angry to have this pointed out to them.
Another thought: Rowling does seem in a way to be the heir to the children's literature throne vacated by Roald Dahl, not in terms of the quality of her prose but specifically because her work is filled with heavy-handed moralizing and pretty blatant antisemitism. When the Ferengi, at least by DS9, were being played by primarily Jewish actors, they were performing a sort of anti-capitalist drag show, fully in on the joke; the goblin bankers in Potter are simply played too straight to be treated as anything other than a grotesquery, and by the time they show back up again at the end of the series there's no question their depiction was an abhorrent, intentional choice.
I could stand the books' moralization as a 10-year-old but, aged and tired as I am now, I see quite clearly that this was the writing of a woman whose understanding of the world is so simplistic that she is incapable of understanding it. That she has become the celebrity figurehead of anti-queer fascists does not at all surprise me in retrospect; the only thing surprising me is that, like Orson Scott Card, whose works I also read around that age, she does not seem to have absorbed the themes of her own work. Hubris has no antidote but failure, I suppose.