My curiosity finally got the better of me. You can only hear how awesome they are before you have to see what the hype is about. I bought the first book in paperback, not wanting to invest too much into them. We nestled in my son’s bed and he was asleep by page three. I was not.
I stayed up until 1:00 in the morning, until the last page was read, enthralled with the magic of another world so compelling that I never wanted it to end.
I lived in a cupboard under the stairs. My uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia made no effort to hide the fact that I was a burden they didn’t need or want. Discovering I was a wizard and had lost my parents in a horrible act of magical violence was just the beginning. I attended a school of witchcraft and wizardry, and became the youngest Seeker in a century to play on the Gryffindor quidditch house team. I stood in a field with players surrounding me on flying broomsticks and listened as a roaring crowd applauded me for catching the golden snitch and winning the game.
I found two of the very best friends a person could ever have, and they helped me face the evil wizard who killed my parents, and defeat him. He didn’t die but he got the message that I would not be taken care of easily. Returning to my Aunt and Uncle’s house didn’t seem quite so bad now that I knew where my real home was.
My world of soccer games, and cookie dough fundraisers had disappeared. I was Harry Potter…until the last page.
Then I wasn’t.