"To The Boy Who Lived."

I started reading the popular and acclaimed series "Harry Potter" when I was about twelve years old per my sister Heidi's recommendation. Back then, the first three books were already out. I remember reading them, enthralled, unable to put them down even when we went to Grandma Richards' for dinner. (That would not be the last time I got in trouble for reading Harry when I could have been socializing.) And I wasn't the only one. My mom used to read the books to us, no matter how old we got, as we curled around her, including my step-dad Jim, listening as she read chapter after chapter, begging her to keep going when her voice got tired.

Once I finished the third, it was like I was starving and left without bread as I waited for the fourth. Every wait between books got more and more difficult. In between, all there was to do was discuss the mysteries and intricacies with your friends or go see the movies about 900 times in the theater or at home. When "Goblet of Fire" came out, it was darker. I was 14 or 15, and I remember being slightly scared during the resurrection of Voldemort scene. The dark magic was realistic and well-described. To the nay-sayers who said the book series was evil, this is the one scene, I think, that might stray toward that end. But still to this day, if anyone says anything negative about the series, I get an almost irresistible urge to shove a book up their asses.

"Goblet of Fire" was also the first book in the series to make me cry. Toward the end of Harry and Voldie's duel, the ghosts of Harry's parents come out of the tip of Voldemort's wand, wishing Harry encouragement and telling him how proud they are of him. I remember my mom reading this to us, crying. We were all crying at that point. That's what the books mean most to me. J.K. Rowling weaves her worlds and characters so effectively that you feel as strongly about these people as if they were flesh and blood. The stories are powerful not only because they are about good triumphing over evil, but they are about people, people you get to know and love.

When "The Half-Blood Prince" came out, we were in London ("we" being my dad, Sheila, Andrea, Marjaan, Heidi and I), for the premier. We sat outside on the street as midnight arrived, and we were so wildly enthusiastic that more and more camera crews from different news stations came to interview those "crazy American girls." When we were let in the book shop we, along with hundreds of crazed fans, groped our copies like feverish hounds. We posed as more press took our photos, clutching the books, hardly able to wait until we trotted back to the hotel room. Our dad started reading to us from chapter one, "The Other Minister." Both my parents, I should mention, are extremely good at reading things out loud. For the next few weeks we spent in Europe, all of us would read Harry at night, us girls sometimes reading in secret late at night. (We got in trouble for that one, too.) The book was amazing, my personal favorite in the series, and also, I think, the best. It is very intricate and intelligent, and it never ceases to entertain.

By the time it came to waiting for the seventh, I already had my own theories about how the series was to end. (All of which came true, by the way. I knew what was what.) I remember discussing, arguing, and anticipating with my friends and family. In the meantime there were more movies. They all had their ups and downs, but in general, they were likeable. My favorite still is "Prisoner of Azkaban." I also think that it and "Deathly Hallows: Part One" are the most well-done, though "Hallows" follows the book most faithfully of all of them.

Finally, "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" arrived on July 21st, 2007. My closest friends and family all went to the book release at midnight, dressed in our finest Harry Potter attire. (I was Ginny, as my hair was long and red.) Mark, my boyfriend at the time, had just left on his mission and missed the premier, so I, of course, had to lord it over him and gloat to the best of my ability. I went home and started reading the book with my good friends Amy and Colton. We stayed up very late and got very far in the book, but I didn't want to devour it all in one night. It was the last book, I wanted to savor it. (Unlike Amy, who finished it that night. Or rather, early the next morning.) As I said, everything I predicted came true, down to Snape being good, (I knew this because of the one line in "Half-Blood Prince" where Harry is coming after him and Snape simply says, "No, Potter.") and Harry having to die because of the bit of Voldie's soul in him and then coming back to life. The Malfoys ending up on no one's side. Draco having a final confrontation with Harry and Harry having to save his life. Stuff like that. The main thing I was surprised about was Fred's death. I mean, I knew somebody major (besides Snape, whose death ALSO made me cry), had to die, but I didn't think it was him. I remember setting the book down for a second, my heart pounding, my mouth drying up. Not Fred. It was too sad. It wasn't until the scene with his family mourning him that I actually cried, though. Then came one of my favorite moments in the book. The Death eaters had broken in, Neville had killed Sagini, (YAY, Neville!!!!) and the students and faculty of Hogwarts were putting up an heroic fight. At one point, Bellatrix is attacking Ginerva Weasley, Luna, and Hermione, when Mrs. Weasley comes rushing in, yelling, "NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!" She then kills Bellatrix. I remember my mom reading that out loud, practically screaming the line. (I am now tearing up as I am typing this.) My mom, like Molly, is a kind of mama-lion, protective of her cubs. It was so fierce and brilliant a moment that every time I read it I get chills and the urge to stand up and cheer. There are several of those moments through the series and the final book. She's a talented girl, that JoAnn Kathleen.

But even when I finished the book, at least it wasn't over. There were still movies to look forward to, and fun ones at that. I went to all the midnight showings, dressed up, of course. Going to the premiers with friends has been some of the funnest times. Finally, "Deathly Hallows: Part One" came out. My friends and I went as the villains of the stories. Colton was Draco Malfoy, Amy was Bellatrix Lestrange, Heidi was Delores Umbridge, Whitney was Rodolphus Lestrange, Stacy was Narcissa Malfoy, and I was Severus Snape (my favorite character in the series; I'm also in love with him. Like, for real). The premier was fun and packed. The movie was brilliant. It followed the book so closely, it was almost perfect. My favorite scene was the counsel of Death Eaters toward the beginning. Such a well-crafted scene and so well acted, especially by the gifted Alan Rickman and Ralph Fiennes, Snape and Voldemort, respectively.

And so here we are, at the end. It has been a long road with these stories. I'm now 25 and the books have stayed with me all the while. I am constantly reading one or two Harry Potter books, so I have lost track of how many times I've read them. I'll even occasionally read the series backwards or start somewhere in the middle of one of the books and then read til I've gotten to that point again after I finish the rest in order just to mix things up. I am beyond a fanatic, I am emotionally attached. Not just because I grew up with them, but also because of how much they have influenced myself and those around me, like my sister, who struggled with reading and relating to people in general until Harry came into her life, and now she's going into forensic psychology, is incredibly smart and well-read, a poet, and the life of the party (yes, I attribute all of this to J.K. and her marvelous books). I have been inspired by this series, uplifted by them, and moved by them. It is hard to say goodbye. But say it we must.

So here's to Jo. And here's "to the Boy Who Lived."