Seven years ago I was seventeen, waiting in desperate anticipation to read a book about another seventeen year old. That kid, however, happened to be a wizard. I’ll never forget spending the whole evening at the bookstore, queuing up in line after cake and candy and trivia, and finally exchanging my voucher for that last book. Literally two seconds later, I was reading the front flap, and barely looked up as my mom pulled up alongside the curb. I devoured the whole story voraciously, all in one sitting. It was the most epic and emotional reading experience I’ve had to date. Even though in seven hours I’d read the last adventures of Harry and his friends, his story has continued to bring me comfort and hope. Harry and I grew up together, always reminding me to believe in love, friendship, and, most of all, magic.