It was the summer of 1999, my ninth birthday. What was originally supposed to be a double gift for my younger sister and I (our birthdays are nine days apart) became a lifelong obsession for me, and an unused birthday gift for her. Our aunt gave us the first four Harry Potter books; the most grownup books I owned to date. The first time I ever owned a book with a swear word in it (damn), and the first books I’ve read until the lamp burned out (literally, caught the lamp shade of fire one time I was so entranced).
I’ll always remember starting the Philosopher’s Stone. My older sister had a ball game under the lights, meaning it would be a night game and “too late” for me to stay up. I showed them. I started reading Harry Potter out of pure spite that night, because I honestly didn’t think that I would like it, but I was mad I couldn’t go watch the game, so I started reading. And reading. And reading.
I read until my mother and sister came home; I still remember my mom being surprised that I was still awake. I read until the book fell out of my hands, and then I woke up the next morning and read some more.
Over the years as the books and movies have been released it brings back that initial excitement I had that first night in the summer of ’99. Almost every book and movie has been released around my birthday, maximizing my excitement. All my friends and family know about my love for the series. When I was younger a lot of my gifts had Harry Potter themes. I’ve had a Harry Potter blanket, two puzzles, candy sets, and special screening tickets of new movies.
My love is plain, even on my skin. The first tattoo I received permanently inked upon my skin was drawn by me and influenced by Harry Potter. It says “Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus,” which is the Hogwarts school motto on the front page of all the books. A lot of people thought I was pretty crazy for getting it, but even more people think it’s kickass. A tattoo should mean something, and I think a thirteen (and counting) year obsessing fits the bill.
Two years ago I had the distinct honour of giving my younger cousin the full set of Harry Potter books on his ninth birthday. My aunt recently informed me that for a school project he had to bring his favourite thing to school, and he chose his books. This makes me prouder that words can express. His eleventh birthday is coming up, and I’m going to make him his very own Hogwarts acceptance letter; every wizard gets one on their eleventh birthday.
I used to be a solitary kid, and I kept to myself most of the time. I’ve always been an avid reader, and to the day I always have a book or two on the go. I’m never without a novel to read at night, and I was the same as a nine year old. I didn’t have many friends growing up, I had one best friend and I figured that was all I needed since I had a fairly large family. I read a lot in those days, and as soon as I was finished the Harry Potter series I would go right back to the first book and start them all over again. I’m fairly certain that I’ve read the first four books almost 30 times. They are as familiar to me as my own memories.
I read when I’m sad, I read when I’m bored, I read when I’m happy, mad, sleepy, excited, and depressed. The Harry Potter books are more than just words on paper; they’re an escape into another dimension where anything is possible.
My friends and I, each holding our favourite things.
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