I have a rather peculiar history with Harry Potter. I started reading it in between fourth and fifth grade, I think (I remember I bought the first book right before a cousin’s party at Racks, and reading the first few paragraphs because I really couldn’t get into the rhythm of the story), but my love affair with The Boy Who Lived was quickly stunted because right after I finished the first book, my parents thought it best to disallow me from pursuing the rest of the series, since they believed it to be potentially harmful in certain ways.

In the sixth grade, I began to sneak off to the library and read the Chamber of Secrets, chapter after painstaking chapter, in between classes and a friend lent me her copy of the Prisoner of Azkaban. The first film, I saw by accident (and without sound), because it showed on a plane I was on, but I didn’t want my parents to find out I was watching so I didn’t wear the earphones. That was really enough for me — seeing the books that were so dear to my heart onscreen, even though it was on mute, was really like magic for me.

I don’t really blame my parents — they were pretty hardcore Christians, and they just wanted the best for me, and I suppose literature on witchcraft and wizardry wasn’t high on their list. I snuck off to watch the films, and read fan fiction (Draco/Hermione through & through), went to HP fansites occasionally, though not very often since each time after, I’d have to clear the browser history and delete cookies. I even got caught a few times, but my parents had been pretty merciful.

Needless to say, my obsession with Harry was pretty covert, that is until I was in fourth year high school and Goblet of Fire was coming out in theaters, and I asked my dad if I could please watch the movie. And he told me that, yes, yes I could. Biggest shock in my life, I tell you. Since then, I’d bought my own copy of the books and have re-read them again and again, and I know you know this: I have never looked back.

Not a lot of people will understand this, but the series really, truly changed my life, and each time I encounter it, still does. JK’s writing is not that great, but holy crap, the things that Harry and all the other characters have taught me. Even the Vatican sees it now. Every time I think about it, I still get shivers, my heart still swells. Because I know that no matter what happens, no matter what kind of shit hits the fan, no matter what new evil appears — the world is still good and it will be safe, as long as there are people who keep fighting for it. It sounds like a stupid thing to do, but whenever I get upset and I can’t stop crying (and this has been happening quite a few times recently), I only get a Harry Potter book, no matter which one, read it, and I calm down almost instantaneously.

I don’t know, I guess I just wanted to get that out. I have a rather complicated opinion regarding the HBP film, but no matter what they left out, kept or added, I still do love it because it’s Harry Potter. I never got my Hogwarts letter, but I never stopped believing.

An extensive blow-by-blow is available on my LJ. I didn’t put it here, because it’s spoiler-laden, and I wanted to be careful.