My love affair with Harry Potter:

I honestly can't remember them moment I heard about Harry Potter. If I had to guess, it was probably because of the big hype that was surrounding it in the south where I live. There was a group rallying for it to be taken out of school libraries and other places like that since it promoted witch craft and was, therefore, an abomination. My dad,a Christian preacher, even preached a lesson about it around this same time. In my pre-teen year old state- when I had the attention span of a fruit fly- I highly misinterpreted his message. I thought he was saying that we shouldn't read books like that. So, color me confused when he brought home the first movie- on VHS- on day that summer. 

"So, we can watch this?" the eleven year old me asked, probably examining the rectangular box on a boy on a broom stick and some very, hairy man.

"Yes, did you not listen to my lesson at all?" I was caught.

"I thought you said these were bad."

I sure he probably rolled his eyes at me at this point- that sounds like him.

"No, you can."

That night, my family had a movie night and I was introduced to the magical world of Harry Potter. I think, back in those days, we had the movie for a week. And I watched it every single day. I was in love, I was obsessed. (Though probably not as bad as the A Knight's Tale VHS rental of 2002- but that's a different story) I remember even staying behind one night while my entire family went to my little brother's baseball game so that I could sit in my bed and watch it again, with a bowl of white rice. I was sad to see it turned in, but happy to know that the next one was coming out that fall! 

However, though I loved the movie and was excited about the next one- I didn't want to read the books. They were too long and I, in my infinite 13 year old snobbdom, didn't want to look like a nerd reading nerdy books...because that's nerdish. Also, I didn't like reading in my spare time. There were backstreet boys CDs to listen to and Lizzis McGuire episodes to watch. 

So I threw Harry and it world into the back of my mind until November. November 22, 2002- if I remember the day correctly. No matter what date it was, I remember that it was a Sunday and my friend L asked me if I wanted to go see the new Harry Potter movie with her after church. Though I'm sure I played it off really cool, inwardly I was ecstatic! After church, we headed to the nearest movie theater, which was 20 miles away and they were sold out. I was disappointed! Luckily, her parents, who just happen to be some of my parents best friends at the time, were quick on their feet and bought tickets for that night's showing. We headed back home, went to church then jumped in the car immediately afterwards to head back to the movies. 

I remember sitting in the theater with my friend L besides, munching on popcorn and drinking probably Dr. Pepper out of my large, Harry Potter promotional plastic cup and watching one of the greatest movies of my life. I don't think I had ever been drawn so much. I watched a boy, young boy, a boy that was my age, endure so much including risking his own well being in a slithering sanctuary of evil for his best friends little sister. Then, on top of that, he gets stabbed with a basilisk fang while trying to slay the terrible beast.(For those of you who don't know, basilisk venom is very poisonous and will kill you within minutes) As I watch the young, too young, hero die, I began to cry. It didn't matter to me that somewhere, in the back on my brain, I knew that there were going to be 7 books and, therefore, they couldn't kill off their main character. All I knew in that moment was that a boy my age was dying, he was so brave, but he was dying. I don't think I could ever fully describe what I felt at the moment, maybe enough words haven't been invented, but the heartbreaking scene was my entrance into the world I have come to know and love. 

The next day, I checked out the first book from the school library. 

Do you remember those accelerated reading test you could take at the school library to get points...well, not to brag, but I got the most points that year in my grade. Within a month, I blew through all of the available Harry Potter books (there were only 4 at the time) and left hungry for more. The next book wasn't coming out until my birthday (holla) so I started picking up other books that seemed interesting. You see, Harry Potter started my reading obsession. If it wasn't for that little book series, I wouldn't have the 30ish books I have stashed under my bed, night stand and closet or the boxes of books I have at my old house in storage plus the Word files I have on my computer filled with my favorite fanfiction. (Oh fanfiction, how I love you.) 

And it wasn't enough for my to just read. I wanted to write. Ever since I was young, I would make my storied in my head- all involving a white horse name Rose- but I would never write them down. My freshman year of high school, one of my friends introduced me to fan fiction and, by my junior year- I had began writing one. Now, as of this date- I have started three and only finished one. Bad, I know, but I've moved on to bigger and better things- a book of my own, completely original (except for the ancient legends that surround the premise and plot) Any free moment I have from making thousands of flash cards and writing chemical equations, I'm writing it. In fact, as this very moment it is open on my desk top waiting for me to finish the 12th chapter. 

I say all of that to say this- Harry Potter changed my life in more ways than one. I read now because of it. I write now because of it. I have a Quaffle in my closet because of it. I can't believe now that I used to think it was nerdy and just for nerds. I am now PROUDLY one of those nerdy nerds because it has made me be the person I was, but too afraid to show. (I've always been a little nerd, I just tried to fight against it to be cool)

Now, here comes the hard part. I could sit here all day and tell you how Harry Potter has changed my life, but it doesn't scratch the surface of the real impact it has had on me. I have said it so many times before, and this won't be the last, but I have a very strong emotional connection with Harry Potter. I will never forget July 16th, 2007- the day the last book came out. Of course, I was there at midnight, dressed to the nines at Ginny Weasley. (my favorite character. She had to put up with 6 brothers and was the girl you shouldnt' mess with- my hero) You could literally feel the excitement pulsing through library. Everyone, from Snape to Umbridge to Cho to Harry flying Buckbeak was there, all chatting away happily about the ten year ere of magic ending that night with the final chapters. And I was the saddest one in the crowd. I wanted the book more than anything, but I didn't want the magic to end. The previous five years of my life had been full of magic and wonder. The characters were my friends, I loved them all. And their fates were going to be determined in a cover bound book. What if Ginny or Hermione or Ron or, dare I not think it, Harry died? How would I pull myself up from that emotional turmoil. 

Yes, I know that they are "just characters" and "aren't real", but there's something about have an emotional investment in a book, that they are real to you. My family thinks I'm insane, I'm sure. I remember the night I read that Dumbledore had died (also known as the day the book came out, I read it in a day). I walked into my parents room sobbing. My mom, being the loving and caring mother that she is, inquired as to why I was blubbering like a baby.

"He's dead, Dumbledore is dead." I wailed. 

"He's not real, they are just books." So much for caring. 

Yes, he's not real and they are just books, but it was so much more than that. I loved him and I knew that his death was going to have serious impact on Harry's fate in the next one, especially since Dumbledore was the one who really knew what all was going on.

Dumbledore wasn't the only death that brought me to tears. I won't ever mention Dobby's death here. The music score from part 1 alone can reduce me to tears.   

But back to the night of the last book release. I was sick in my stomach, waiting for the clock to strike midnight and to be handed my copy of their fate. I had to wait in a line that wrapped around the whole library and I was at the front with all of the others who had reserved copies- thanks to my mom for surprising me and reserving me a special edition copy. The whole time, I didn't speak. Instead I clutched my other purchases for the evening and tried to mental prepare myself for what I was about to receive. Luckily my best friends, K and Lee were there to try to cheer me up. K who was the only one in the reserved line with me, kept her arm around me the whole time and kept offering tiny words of encouragement. If any moment solidified K and my relationship as bestest of all best friends- it was that moment. She knew how I was feeling. As I got closer and closer to the end, the tears began to well up in my eyes. My "childhood" was coming to an end. I was 18, starting college in the fall, and my favorite books series was ending- how poetic. 

By fate or luck, the guy who checked me out was dressed as Harry. As he handed me my book, my very special book, the tears began to drip down my face. I was trying to hold them back through the whole check out process, but my eyes were like dams about to break. And they did, as soon as transactions ended. 

K was right behind me and, through great efficiency on Barnes and Noble's part, so were the other member of my party. I was a sobbing mess by the parking lot. K put her around around me and talked to me, all which is caught on film. (Thanks Laura) We were able to snap one quick picture of us all smiling, holding our books up high, before we all scattered to our respective homes. 

The pages of that book at spotted with the tears I cried while reading it. I still have an attachment to it. Only two people have touched it since I bought it, my older brother who took when I got home to read the ending and me.I have only read it a few times since then, and only as part of my pre-movie book reading agenda. For some reason, I can bring myself to read it more that necessary.   

There were only three movies left when the final book came out, but they seemed to go by so fast. Each movie earned its own party thrown at my house (with the wonderful cooperation of my parents). The last was by far the best. Just think Gatsby Harry Potter themed party. Okay, maybe not that glamorous, but you get my drift. I spent a ridiculous amount of time making decorations- including my favorite, a furry Monster Book of Monsters- and even more than I want to admit on food. But I was my last sha-bang! 

I cried the whole movie- even at parts that weren't sad. But, as the ere grew to a close with the sweet notes of John William's "Hedwig's Theme" playing, the tears were happy. It ended like it was always supposed to- with magic. 

It's been months since I've watched any of the movies and years since I've read the books, I can't really bring myself to do it. It's odd. They are something that I love so much, that I am incredibly passionate about, but entering into that world again need emotional preparation on my part. So, I keep them safe for now in hopes of one day sharing their magic with my sister and my own children. 

In the end, it's really simple. I love Harry Potter. I have read 4195 pages of love, friendship and sacrifice. I have made friends with Harry, Ron and Hermione. I have mourn the deaths of Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore, Hedwig, Mad-Eye, Dobby, Fred, Remus, Tonks and Harry himself. And at the end of it all, all I can say it "All was well".