I'm not a freak, really I'm not, but I've read the six Harry Potter books by J.K. Rowling at least 50 times each and review them nearly every night before I go to bed.
Needless to say, I love Rowling's magical world of Hogwarts.
And I am not the only one. With more than 325 million copies of the first six books sold worldwide, Harry Potter has become nothing short of a phenomenon that has deeply affected the lives of children who have grown up alongside the boy wizard.
In fact, every year, children run into a wall at Kings Cross Station in an attempt to get to Platform 9, the supposed entrance to this magical world. Although I have never tried this myself, Harry Potter has been a fundamental part of my childhood as well. These books have helped me in social situations, benefited me academically, and taught me to always believe in magic.
Because of the book's popularity, everyone, even the "cool" kids are always eagerly anticipating what will happen next. As a loner in new schools, I have taken advantage of the book's popularity and used this topic as a conversation starter. We talk about what we liked about the first book, the upcoming one, how funny it is that Harry is our age, etc. Now my very best friends are throwing Hogwarts parties! Even on dates, when the conversation starts to lag over the salad, I bring up Harry Potter. Nine times out of 10, our predictions as to who will die next, takes us all the way through dessert.
In an academic sense, Rowling's made-up spells such as wingardium leviosa, which makes things lift off the ground, has helped me memorize massive vocabulary lists with words like "alleviate" in English class. In Spanish class, those same spells have helped me learn verbs such as "levanter" (to lift). Furthermore, the whole plot of Harry Potter is a lesson in prejudice. This underlying theme of racism can easily be connected to our world today. I used this analogy for my SAT I essay, comparing disputes between pure blood wizards and those with non-magical parents to various genocides.
I truly am lucky to have become immersed in this magical world at a young age. Back when there were no Harry Potter movies, action figures and mass commercialism, I pretended to be Harry Potter all on my own. For Halloween in the fourth grade, I dressed up as Professor Dumbledore with half-moon spectacles made out of wire, a long gray beard and homemade wizard's robes. These games were fundamental to my imaginative play, creativity and cognitive development. I always believed that I, like those children who run into walls, was magical.
Then, one night in the summer before sixth grade, my father started to complain of a disturbance, possibly an owl, in my room. So with great trepidation, I hurried to my bedroom where to my surprise I found a large envelope addressed to me. It was my Hogwarts acceptance letter with a list of necessary school supplies!
I was elated. After all, it's not like every muggle (person whose parents aren't wizards) in America gets to go to Hogwarts in Britain. And even though, as I later found out, it was clearly a fake, I still held onto a strand of hope that the magical world existed.
Despite growing out of the phase where I pretended to be a wizard in my back yard, I still associate with Rowling's novels. I am not an orphan in England like Harry, but I nevertheless connect with his concerns over homework and tests, his relationships with teachers and friends, sports competitions and love interests. Such themes are universal. His important OWL tests are analogous to my SAT subject tests, his relationship with Professor Snape analogous to my relationship with my hated physics teacher and the knots in his stomach before a Quidditch match analogous to those I feel before my softball games.
Still, thousands of stories re-create the drama of high school with the various cliques and relationships that young people can connect with. What then, sets Rowling's series apart? It's simple -- the magic. Imagine having your teacher turn the bully who has been picking on you for years into a ferret or taking a ride on a broomstick when you're sick of doing homework. Rowling's books truly are a great escape from the muggle reality where there are no summoning charms, cheering charms or felix felicis to make life easier. The sophisticated, make-believe world that Rowling created suggests that good always triumphs over evil (as Harry has over evil Lord Voldemort in every book), that there is always hope of being special (Harry lived in a cupboard for 10 years before Hogwarts) and that magic can be real. It lets me connect with my happy, naïve grade school self.
Thus, it is with great excitement and ineffable sadness that I anticipate Harry's seventh year at Hogwarts, incidentally my final year of high school. Millions of readers on the verge of adulthood have grown up with him. And we will always remember how Harry's adventures affected our own lives with magic.