User blog comment:JoePlay/Wizarding World Giveaway/@comment-4184992-20110722164616

My sister and I have grown up around Harry Potter. We have used it to solve problems, we have used it to stay up later, we have used it to make us cry, we have used it to make us smile, we have used it to make us laugh, we have used it to take each other down, and we have used it to learn lessons. I remember when Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour bean candy came out in stores. My sister and I would make each other eat each one, and who ever couldn’t swallow, had to pay up. I recall leaning over the toilet one night when I ate a grass-flavoured bean. I remember being called a freak in my school, for carrying around Harry Potter and the Sorcerers Stone. I didn’t think much of it, since Harry, Ron and Hermione would share their world with me when I got home. I remember when some boy dropped my book in the mud and laughed at me. As I retrieved it, he pushed me into the mud too. They called me mud-blood for weeks. I didn’t think much of it, because Hermione could empathize with me. I remember when I came to school dressed as Ron for Halloween, and the girls and boys called me names for pretending to be a boy. Nothing mattered though, because Harry had it worse with Dudley. To a few people, Harry Potter was just an excellent read that they would recommend to anyone. To some it was their fascination with magic that drew them in. To others it was the descriptions of the buildings, or the complexity of the characters. I have a different meaning of the book. Harry was a friend. Ron was a friend. Hermione was a friend. Snape was even a friend. They were all friends that I could learn with. They were friends that I could be myself with. They were friends that I could grow up with. When I had a problem, I would read my friends story. I could learn from their mistakes, and laugh at their mess-ups. I would port myself into Hogwarts with them each night I could just so I could have them share a little bit more of their magic with me. Not the magic, with their wands or invisibility clock, but the magic of what they gave me. The magic of comfort, and a feeling of warmth that surrounds me when I read their books. I can still remember sitting in my room, singing along to the sorting hat, not even needing to look at the book for reference. “I’m the Hogwarts sorting hat and I can cap them all. There’s nothing hidden in your head the sorting hat can’t see, so try me on and I will tell you where you ought to be!” Learning that one song made me realize that Harry Potter was not just an idea, but a monumental, well thought out idea conjured by some one who knows the true meaning of imagination. Harry Potter is imagination. Back then, I didn’t realize how much Harry Potter and his friends helped me to get through, but now I am well aware of the out come it had on me. I am a stronger, wiser person because of J.K Rowling’s novel. Thank You J.K Rowling, for the lifetime bonds, the lasting memories, the brilliant lessons, and the protection of your characters. They will always be close to my heart.