Dear Mr. Potter,

The story is old hash, been done a million times over. Girl finds solace in the stories of things that could not be, like magic and wizards and spells. Because it’s better than being a student at Ramblewood Elementary School where the girls criticize you for not wearing the right khakis and the boys think you’re odd for having read all the books in reading group already. I was not an orphan in a cupboard and I did not know hunger or neglect, but we were soulmates by page 20.

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone was a gift from my parents – another book that I would no doubt voraciously devour. And I did, begging for the next. Sometime later I read the third as well. Not long after turning 11, I wrote myself a Hogwarts acceptance letter, sealed it and shoved it into the mailbox. Harry Potter was never a bedtime story, but a complete immersion into a world in which I alone inhabited.

Fifth grade was a terrible year. One would think that being in the oldest grade would ensure a year of toddling 10-year-old swagger and untouchable arrogance, but it was a rough year for me. It was a slightly chubby phase and, for whatever reason, everyone hated me. Everyone. I don’t think I necessarily did anything wrong, but one person said this, another said that and, well, there you go. I recall that being the last one to see Bring It On was an important factor. Thanks a f*cking lot, Kirsten Dunst. But there was a new girl in school who couldn’t care less about any of that. I complimented Melissa on her Sailor Moon pencil case, and we played together for hours on the kickball field pretending Tuxedo Mask was within arm’s reach from our pre-lustful grasp. She liked Harry Potter too, so we talked about that until our friendship was as solid as they come for having only known someone for a couple months. She is to this day one of the best friends I’ve ever had.

Melissa and I as Luna Lovegood and Cho Chang, respectively, at the Deathly Hallows midnight book release party at the now-defunct Borders in Coral Springs, FL.

This was also around the same time that I discovered The Wonderful World of Harry Potter message boards (later to be hosted by Cinescape in a paradigm shift that caused a massive disruption to our daily routine). There were Houses and newcomers simply picked the one they wanted to frequent. I surveyed the Houses and each seemed alright, but believe it or not, Hufflepuff stood out. Not the usual shy and forgettable Huffs one would expect, they tirelessly joked about e-peaches, created the dance slash drink the Huffshake, engaged in Internet ADHD affectionately dubbed Veermania, and had pages upon pages of thoughtfully narrated food fights. Years passed and we still kept in touch. The boards were shut down, moved, and shut down again, but we stayed radically interested in each other’s lives through Livejournal and instant messaging. I swapped letters with a girl from the Midwest choosing a university and a girl in sixth form in Brunei. We had a token boy known as Snitch (real name being Riley, but we oft preferred nicknames) who unabashedly loved his dear Huffs, despite the House’s gender bias towards the fairer sex. We all drifted apart once a good portion of us got to college around ‘07, but I still think about them from time to time and the camaraderie we felt, even (if not especially) during the years that would pass between new Potter things.

Letters from Lana and Teah.

When the movies premiered, I went to see the first with my parents on opening night and cried silently at the end because I couldn’t fathom how beautiful my fantasy looked on the big screen. John Williams composed a score that to this day makes my heart sing. No matter my opinion on the films, I have gotten that knot in my stomach at the end of each and every one, that feeling that I am 10 years old again and my dreams are a reality.

Melissa and I had been active members of the Livejournal community, posting things in private journals and keeping up with communities. We were both into fanfiction, frequenting Sugarquill.net (I just found All That Glitters again and I’m about to re-read it to see if it’s as good as I remember) and laughing at some of the bizarre pairings that dipped into the shamelessly pornographic. But one stood out to us above all else: The Shoebox Project. While based on the popular Remus/Sirius slash ship, the story explored the four Marauders (Sirius, Lupin, James and Peter) on their mischievous boyhood adventures at Hogwarts in the 1970s through memories, notes, doodles and journal entries hoarded in a shoebox under the bed of a particularly neurotic werewolf. Undertones dwelled on their relationship, sure, but it was – at its core – a story of friendship, laughter and the intoxicating effects of smoking gillyweed written and illustrated in the most hilarious and endearing style. In the spirit of our fandom, Melissa and I referred to each other as Moony and Padfoot and spent the better part of our first two years of high school passing notes in like style. We embarked on an audiobook project in which we would read chapters into a shitty computer microphone with overzealous British accents. As with everything, planning the project was more memorable than the fact that we only got one chapter in before forgetting about it.

Approximately half the notes passed between Melissa and I our first two years of high school ceremoniously saved in a shoebox decorated with drawings and notes from The Shoebox Project. Melissa has the other half. I also have a binder with printed scripts for the audio project.

Sirius Black, Professor McGonagall, Remus Lupin and…Sharon, circa 2005.

But Harry, you not only gave me Melissa – you gave me Ashleigh and Bonnie, too. You gave me the hours I’ve spent with them debating charm theory, discussing wizard rock and making off-hand AVPM references. You gave me the fire-in-my-belly jealousy of Bonnie attending LeakyCon, Infinitus, Prophecy and every other symposium known to man and wizard. I’ve sparked the fire in other friends, encouraging them to read the entire series over when they couldn’t have cared less (with special congratulations to Rich for reading the books, watching the films and nearing the end of the American audiobooks). And I’ve given my mom something to talk about and feel hip and my dad something to watch every single time it’s on television. They actually want to come with me to the movies to see the latest installment in your story. They asked me to go to Universal Studios Orlando to see Hogwarts, and I could do nothing by smile and oblige.

Lucius Malfoy (AJ Kagan) and Bellatrix Lestrange for a Halloween party, circa 2009.

Hogwarts with Mom and the Hogwarts Express with lady friends and one very eager conductor.

To this day I wondered what House I belonged to, but I always set sights on the blue and silver. It seemed an apt fit. I was quite content to call myself a Ravenclaw, having prided myself on skills of wit and bookishness, never giving any thought to ruthless determination or boldness or being...unafraid of toil. But a true friend – a new one at that – pointed out strength I didn’t appreciate. He saw my silence as discipline and reason and my stubborn independence as strength in the face of tension. I teared up when he said that he found me confident under pressure because I believed him. I believed that I had grown to be everything I thought I could never live up too. I’m not a coward, nor am I cold and callous. I am brave and I am loyal. I make thoughtless mistakes and I still have a lot of maturing to do, but I love with everything I have to give. I am a Gryffindor.

Thank you for everything you’ve given me, Harry and Jo. For showing me friendship, what it means to be brave and for allowing me the privilege of acquiring as much knowledge of your brilliant world as I have these past 13 years. You were not the subject of children’s novels; you were a child’s foundation for being the adult they are today.

With love,

Dear Mr. Potter

(x-posted to Facebook)