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I remember the first time I had tried to read the Harry Potter series. I was in the 6th grade.
I barely had the attention span to sit in class, so Im not sure how the hell I planned on reading
these, then, massive books that Id soon come to know as my favorite set of massive books.
I had a friend, Robert, who was talented in many areas. He was musically inclined (man
could he play the guitar) as well as studious. He also loved to read. Fortunately for me, I was
friends with this Jack of all Trades. During my Junior year in high school, Robert and I had a
few classes together, so we had the opportunity to talk a lot. Now, I cant remember what exactly
made me want to read those books, but I do remember coming into class one day and telling
Robert that I wanted to read the Harry Potter books. Lo and behold, he said that he had all of
them and would be more than happy to let me read them. So the very next day, I got him to bring
book 1, Harry Potter and the Sorcerers Stone.
It took me a day or two to actually start reading it. I remember pushing it aside to play a
video game or homework, or even just go out. But one day, school had gotten out early, so I
figured I had more than enough time to start the book.
And man, did I.
I lied down on the couch in my living room with no one home. It was around 12:30 when
I started to read. I had put my headphones in and I played Of Monsters and Men while I read. I
remember the first chapter being somewhat of a nuisance to get through, but there was a moment
while reading (which I wish I could specify) where the words began to float off the page and
seemed to fill my eyes and ears with that which is like poetry. Imagine traveling like Christopher
Columbus himself. Imagine finding a New World and in it, you find people. Very strange
people, but very beautiful, all the same. So much mystery to find out that they keep you coming
back for more. This is how I felt about Harry Potter. Every single character that was introduced

to me was a mystery. Harry Potter? The Boy Who Lived? Albus Dumbledore? This old lady that
turns into a cat?! I was very intrigued. J.K. Rowling had roped me in in one chapter, as Im she
did with thousands of others. Page after page I read that day, blazing through about half the book
before dinner was ready, and after dinner, I read some more. I remember reading a particular part
in the story in which the setting was outside in the snow. While reading this part, King and
Lionheart was playing. Now, every time I hear this song, no matter the weather, I am mentally
relocated to a place that white and blinding with mountains rolling over mountains and wool
mittens upon my fingertips, rubbing upon my nose thats halfway taken to the storm. I had never
immersed myself in a book like I did with Harry Potter. The world was new to me, however, I
felt like I had been there before and it felt natural. Within a few weeks, I had made it to book
four. I remember reading this book and getting too excited for the Triwizard Tournament (a
tournament between Hogwarts and other schools). I couldnt put the book down because at the
end of every chapter, there was a major cliff hanger that I could not get over. I remember getting
to the final pages of the book, when Lord Voldemort was resurrected and feeling like a dark
cloud was now over my reality. I could feel the air thicken as his body began to form. I could
feel my blood boil as he stood over Harry and put shame to his parents name. I could feel tears
form behind my eyelids as Harry saw the shadow of his parents extend from the tip of
Voldemorts wand and wave. I remember feeling as if I was the one who had lost so much. As if
I was the one sitting in a cemetery, facing the Dark Lord himself, defenseless.
Fast forward a few more weeks. Im at the State Championship for Swimming.
My next event is an hour away. The room is filled with half naked people all screaming and
splashing water everywhere. I go to my bag and grab my headphones and the last Harry Potter
book. The Deathly Hollows. I sat against the wall, opened the book, and indulged myself in the

work of art that worked as some kind of illusion. Roping me and and holding me there until I
figured it out. I had only a few more chapters to go. Harry was a Horcrux. Hogwarts was being
attacked. Snape was a good guy. I had to keep going. Page after page I read. I remember when
Harry greeted death as if it were an old friend to destroy the final horcrux; Himself. He woke up
in Kings Cross Station, where he saw Dumbledore. I remember feeling as if I was there, sitting
on the bench with the man himself. Every word Dumbledore said soaked into the depths of my
brain and entangled themselves within my mind like roots to a very old tree.
I remember when Harry woke up, and how happy I was, and how surprised Voldemort
was. As I read the text, images formed in my head. The two were battling at this point. Waves of
red rushed out of Voldemorts wand and blue out of Harrys. I could see it. I could feel the
power and the energy of the two wands colliding. Just as Harry had gotten the burst of energy to
resurge against Voldemorts wand and finish a raging war, I had gotten the burst of excitement
and the thrill of finally unraveling one of the greatest stories of a young hero that Ive ever been
so lucky to read.