Taking a deep breath, I watched tense as he quickly stumbled back from the figure before him. So close to the door, but then both the black haired boy and myself froze when a new voice came from the evil man before him. The boys green eyes peered out from behind large glasses, trying to be brave as he backed away from his greatest foe, the murderer of his parents and countless other people. Forgetting his wand, he tries to fight back at the man who grabs him, watching as his face and hand blisters and burns before his eyes. Before he blacks out, he hears a voice calling to him "Harry...".
A sense of wonder filled me as I read the last few words of my book. I'd loved reading since I was very young, but never did I have the connection that I had to this book. I read it within the four hours that I had brought it home from the book fair at my school. From the very beginning "Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of Number Four Privet Drive..." to the very end I was sucked into a whole new world that felt a very much a part of me. As a kid, I didn't really fit in anywhere with anyone. Sure I had a few friends but mostly the type that liked you when they needed you and didn't know you if they didn't. I wasn't picked on, or bullied..I was simply quiet and shy. I certainly wished for more in life, something bright in the otherwise bleak existence. By this I mean, I always felt that there should be more in life than school, home, school and home. Reading allowed me to use the books to escape from this world and fall into the adventure, love, safety or whatever of that other world.
When I first stepped into Number Four Privet drive and took a look at this little boy, sweet and innocent even with the hand life gave him, I was intrigued. Throw him into a world of magic, mystery and friendship and I was hooked for life. Magic was an interest of mine to begin with, but throw in a young boy my age, as unsatisfied with life as I was (for different reasons obviously) and a great school of magic it was like a piece of myself had finally been discovered. Once I started reading, I was completely absorbed into the words printed before me. I saw through the words, and saw a tall gray stone castle, with towers and a uplifting magical aura. I saw three kids, with a deep lifelong bond, and the evil that threatened to tear them apart. I became one of them, and I couldn't wait for each new installment of their adventure. I grew up on the series, waiting anxiously for the next one to come out, while contemplating what exactly could happen before reading it for myself. Often sitting in class, or up at night just placing myself back into their world, and having my own adventures.
This world, and that boy have been a part of my life for so long that they are as real to me as the computer I type from, or the bedroom I sit in. So understandably, when it was announced that the last book was coming, there was a deep sense of regret as well as a sort of excitment. After all this time we'd get to see a "happily ever after" for the character, but then again there would be no more adventures to look forward to. I was eighteen when the book came out, and I read the whole thing in six hours. When I finished, I cried. It wasn't because it was a sappy sweet happy ending, and everything worked out. I cried for the lives, yes lives not characters, that where killed in the book. Several of them where children that where in the story from the very first book, others where introduced later but where no less lovable or important. I felt a piece of me crumble inside, as I felt a part of me and something ingrained in my being and life end.
Even as it has come to an end, Harry Potter is still one of my main sources of "escape" today. If I'm having a stressful week or just feel like vegging out with something I pick up one of the books. I know them so well that I don't have to concentrate hard reading them, because I almost know them word for word. Everyone has a stress release, sometimes they change from childhood and sometime they don't. I'm grateful for that February day ten years ago when I first picked up that book of magic and wonder. It has been a rock, a security blanket through some of the toughest times in life. While it may be strange to many people that that is what I use, I would say its better than drugs, crimes and other harmful things that are used way to often in our society. What's wrong with a little magic in our life?