User blog comment:JoePlay/Wizarding World Giveaway/@comment-4195989-20110724164129

When I was in elementary school, I had no friends. No one liked me, because they'd known since kindergarten that I was bossy and a bit of a know-it-all. I was the kid alone on the side of the playground with a book. I don't necessarily want to say I was Hermione. But when I was seven or so (the age, incidentally, magic begins to exhibit itself in young witches and wizards!) I picked up Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, and suddenly I had people I could pretend were my friends: Ron, Harry, and Hermione who I sympathized with. I could pretend I was at Hogwarts, could pretend my friends didn't mind I was a Slytherin (I was teacher's pet in Potions). I waited and waited for my letter from Hogwarts. Now, of course, I'm almost 20, I have friends, and I know better, but just because my time at Hogwarts was all in my head doesn't mean it's not real, right?