Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone was the first book that transported me into another world. Prior to discovering the wizarding world, I had been an avid reader, devouring every book my strict grade school librarian allowed me to check out. After consuming every book in the 4th grade section — twice — I finally convinced my librarian to allow me to venture into the 5th and 6th grade section. The first book I chose was Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. The librarian reluctantly checked me out, muttering about how we really shouldn’t stock that series anyways. I felt so accomplished walking out of the cramped space, half taken-over by the dismal computer lab (which consisted of a table with six ancient desktop models), finally having been allowed to explore more books.
When I got home that day, I ran right up to my room and dove into the book. I was so disappointed reading the first chapter — it was so slow-moving and almost distractingly detailed. I pushed onward, however, determined to prove that I could finish a book from the 5th and 6th grade section. I made the right choice. Shortly thereafter I was transported through the Weasley’s chimney right into Diagon Alley. The unfamiliar wizarding world was breathtaking; pet owls, beautiful wooden wands, books that could bite, and an air of enchantment found nowhere else in the universe. Before I knew it, my mom was knocking on my door, calling me to dinner.
Harry Potter unlocked the door into innumerable alternate realities for me. The series will always hold a special place in my heart, bookmarked by the privilege of teaching me that all it takes to get away for a while is a good book… Or maybe a Hogwarts acceptance letter.