For as long as I can remember, I despised reading with every fiber of my body. I had to drag myself to my desk; forcing my eyes to dart across each page. I panted, sweated, and was always left wondering why I needed to read Dr. Seuss’s, Green Eggs and Ham, and uncover why Sam I am did not like his green eggs and ham, or why I needed to read about what crazy adventure Jack and Annie, from The Magic Tree House, were going to do next. As for me, I was more concerned about how the Powerpuff Girls were going to save the City of Townsville in a thirty minute time slot. That was, until I discovered a certain book series that was both magical and exciting, and what started my zeal for reading. It was a book series that I consider to this day, the best book series I have ever read. This series was none other than J.K Rowling’s, Harry Potter.
The heavy weight of bedtime approached the night sky in Las Vegas, Nevada of 2005. My brother, Nik, was at his friend’s house for the night which meant that it was the perfect time to do what any mischievous little sister might do; sneak into their sibling’s bedroom of course! As I looked around his room in awe of all the things that he would kill me if I ever laid my hands on, such as his precious army men, toy guns, or PlayStation, something on his bed caught my eye. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone was casually sitting on his bed, just waiting for a new reader to explore the tragedies and wonders of the world of Harry Potter. Upon first glance, the physical book itself looked like it had been to Hell and back. Torn on the sides, water stains, and some pages ripped, it was overall the ugliest book I had ever seen. I always saw reading the book and I was curious, yet jealous that he had found something so engrossing that the only logical solution was to therefore, take the ugly book and see where this magical tale would take me.
The story began in Little Whinging, Surrey on 4 Privet Drive, where the one and only Harry Potter, a lonely timid eleven year old boy, had been sent to live with his dreadful and repulsive aunt and uncle, the Dursley’s. After discovering that Harry is a wizard, he was invited to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a magical school that will soon became his home for the next few years, or seven books to be exact. Each of the seven books in the series followed Harry’s adventures at Hogwarts and his battle against Lord Voldemort, an evil dark lord who killed his parents when he was just an infant. Along the way, Harry befriends Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and various other magical creatures and mentors to help Harry defeat the evildoer once and for all.
As I read each book week after week, the aspiration to read became more and more applicable to my lifestyle. Anything that I could get my hands on that had words, I would read it. I would have to be separated by the Jaws of Life to get my hands off the book so I could get ready for school. I was afraid that if I put the book down, the magic would go away too. I most certainly did not want to leave Hogwarts to go to some mundane public school when I instead could be walking through the corridors of Hogwarts on my way to Snape’s potion’s class with my friends Harry, Hermonie, and Ron. Of course, as I grew older, I became cognizant of the differences between what was real and what was imaginary (possibly because I didn't receive an owl with my Hogwarts letter on my eleventh birthday). Nevertheless, I read on and finished the entire series with no time left to spare. I felt so pleased and satisfied that I had finished this grand series that I became a Harry Potter fanatic. I bought myself a wand, went to a few midnight premiers of the move releases.
I never realized how fulfilling and thrilling reading was until Harry Potter. Each book I read, I found a way to relate to each character by either putting myself in the book, or becoming the main character myself. I realized that I was desperately seeking to find magic in my life, and the only place that I could find this so-called magic was in sheets of paper bound together within a single cover. I developed a real connection towards the series because I wanted to uncover the fascination, the magic, and discover a new perspective about the world around me. In the books, Harry loses both his parents to Lord Voldemort. Harry experienced pain, hatred, remorse, and love right before my eyes. Seeing Harry having to endure all these tragedies made me realize, that my life could be much worse.
Through my childhood and teenage years, Harry Potter accompanied me. Harry and I both battled ruthless teachers together, the awkward physical appearances that plagued us in school, the highs and lows of relationships and families, and finding true friends that stood by to make us laugh at times that never seemed possible. I felt connected to Harry’s character the most because we each have a scar on our forehead which just added to my obsession of the series. The series itself made me laugh, weep, indignant, and left me utterly drained all in one sitting alone. Every time I re-read the books today, I get something more out each time. I am on this emotional roller-coaster while reading this series. I endure a raw and real experience which I appreciate more now at age 19 than I ever did or could have at age 8 when I first discovered the series.
What really set Harry Potter away from the traditional books I previously read such as The Magic Tree House series and Dr. Seuss. was the author, J.K. Rowling. Unlike the other books, Rowling created her own never before seen magical world with enchanting lovable characters. I have read the good versus evil scenario a copious amount of times, but Rowling challenged already known issues and made the concepts completely her own. These issues included questioning authority, the power of love, hardships, and the tests of friendship.
Clearly, I found the Harry Potter series to be truly captivating and life-changing. The series taught me not about violence and evil, but showed me that at some point in my life I had been that helpless lonely child looking up at the “castle” looming and reflecting on my life and left wondering what my magical world had in store for me. I had been that teenager, angry at the world for what I was refusing to see and change.
A positive reading experience as I would define Harry Potter, the series taught me that by reflecting on the circumstances Harry and I had to endure, that hopefully the choices I make can lead myself to my own magical happy ending. Just by stealing that one ugly book from my brother’s room, I had discovered my zest for reading, my passion to learn, and a place for me to not feel so alone. A place like Hogwarts that I know, will always be there to welcome me home.
