Every time I tell this story, I remind everyone around me, but mostly myself, that people can be afraid of anything and that being afraid of Voldemort is a completely valid thing.
When I first picked up the series of "Harry Potter," I devoured the first book in two days. I instantly read the second, and the third, and the fourth, and so on within the next few months.
Ironically, despite reading these novels over and over again, I was too afraid to watch the movies because sixth grade me was sweating at the thought of what Voldemort's face would look like. In fact, the first book had such a profound effect on me that I had memorized the section in the book describing the hideous elements of Voldemort's face.
That description was so vivid and frightening to me that I ran from the room while my parents watched the last scene of "The Sorcerer's Stone" when Voldemort makes his first appearance. I hate to admit this, but I even remember asking a librarian to show me his face piece by piece on her computer with her slowly revealing certain parts. I must've taken at least 40 minutes of her time.
If that wasn't bad enough, I forced my dad to draw what Voldemort looked like in the movie on several occasions. I'd run up to him with a pencil and paper and ask my dad to stop whatever he was doing, whether it was laundry or reading the newspaper.
"Draw," I'd say.
"Aiya Kelly, I did this yesterday."
And after begging him for a long time, he finally gave up and drew a really, really rough sketch of Voldemort. And by that, I mean like a face that could even look like Harry Potter if you looked at it hard enough.