To me, there are few things as wonderful as the feeling of a novel in your hands, that invigorating book smell wafting up as you turn the pages, diving deeper and deeper into the story. Unfortunately, being an adult comes with certain disadvantages, such as a ninety minute commute five days a week, that make it increasingly difficult for me to find the time to sit down with a physical book—especially ones as long and involved as Harry Potter—as much as I would like to. Luckily, audiobooks exist to help turn my I-440 rush hour commute (if you live in Nashville, you know) into something a bit more palatable. 

As both a writer and a lover of stories, I enjoy finding new books and series to read. But there is something so comforting about falling back into the pages of Harry Potter and taking that journey on the Hogwarts Express to adventures unlike any other. After all, there is a reason so many people keep returning to its pages. And amid the familiar story and characters that feel like family, there is always something new to be discovered each time you read it, like buried treasure. The depth of the world that Rowling was able to create still astounds me. 

If you know me at all, you can attest to the fact that I talk about Harry Potter often. If you’ve been to my home, you will see evidence of its influence on my life scattered around in just about every room. If you sit down with me for coffee, I could tell you why with expressive faces, energetic gestures, and the occasional squee. But if I tried to capture it on a page, it would sound something like this:

From the very first line of the very first page, this story drew me in. “Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.” Even now, twelve years since I first read them, those words give me chills. Not only do they signal to me that something extraordinary is about to begin—the unfolding of what I consider to be one of the greatest stories ever told—but they set up, from the first sentence, the dichotomy under which our protagonist exists, even though he doesn’t know it yet.

Harry lives in the ordinary world which the reader also inhabits. He suffers from neglect, loneliness, outright bullying, and many other heartbreaking things at the hands of his closed-minded and fearful relations. While this is certainly more extreme than what the typical person experiences, it’s a sort of hyperbolized version of things we face every day. We all know what it’s like to feel lonely, as if we don’t belong; to be treated badly by others, be misunderstood, and to wish for an escape. With the introduction of Rubeus Hagrid, bearing the news that Harry is to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Harry is offered a different reality and whisked away to a new life.

While this is something that is altogether unlikely to happen to the reader, the idea that maybe it could is a powerful one. And, while no Hogwarts acceptance letter turns up at our doors, and no ticket for the Hogwarts Express appears in our pockets, we are still invited on board with Harry as he sets off on his brilliant adventure. What Harry finds in the pages that follow is more than just a new life—he discovers lifelong friendships, a sense of identity, and a new view of the world—what it is, what it should be, and what it can be. And this is exactly what the story of Harry Potter brings to the devoted reader. 

A book is a book. A story is a story. It’s tempting to say that a story can’t change the world—and maybe that’s the truth—but this story changed an entire generation of readers, and the effects of that can still be seen to this day. Harry Potter is more than a book about a boy who discovers he is a wizard and saves the world. It taught my generation to be kind and caring, willing to accept those who are different from us in the understanding that it takes all sorts of people to make the world go ‘round and that we are strongest when we stand united. It taught us to be brave, standing up for what is right because we understand that sometimes we have to “make a choice between what is right and what is easy,” and no true Gryffindor would take the easy way out. It gave us strong women to look up to, such as Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley, who taught us that “anything’s possible if you’ve got enough nerve.” It taught us to always have hope because we know that “happiness can be found in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.” And it taught us the power of true lifelong friendships—it even helped us find some. 

For those of you who don’t know, my best friend and I helped found the Texas A&M Quidditch team during our time there. This brought us not only excused absences from class on tournament days, but also friendships with people we would never have spoken to otherwise. All sorts of people joined that team in the early days, and we discovered that our similarities outweighed our differences. This helped expand the worldview of a nineteen year old girl from small-town Texas, and made me a better and more understanding person. It was also a helluva good time. 

I know that for a lot of people Harry Potter is just a book series. But for others, myself included, it’s so much more than that. As a writer, this is such an outstanding example of the power of words, and what a story can be and can mean to its readers. I would never presume to be capable of the sort of magical wordsmithery gifted to us by the great J.K. Rowling, but she is definitely an inspiration to me as I attempt to build stories that mean something, if not to anyone else, certainly to me. And that, at the end of the day, is why I write. 

(Me with my best friend, Elizabeth at a Quidditch tournament at LSU.)