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Once I Believed...
When I was a small child, I was the type of kid that believed wholeheartedly in magic. I would often take refuge from the stress of the ‘real world’ up in my room or outside brandishing a wand (a twig), sporting a wizard’s robe (blanket), and carrying one of the fabulous Harry Potter books. With these combined with my eager imagination, I could delve deeply into the depths of the wizarding world and explore my fantasies to the heart’s content.
Sad though it may seem, I really did believe in magic. I wasn’t ashamed of it though, for I was confident that I would soon receive my envelope admitting me into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I would be whisked away, with the scent of adventure filling my nose, from all of my petty problems and cruel peers to a wonderful world where my wildest dreams would take the place of harsh reality.
So I waited. I waited, sometimes planning what I would do with my life once I was unveiled to be a wizard. I waited, barely daring to imagine the bliss I would feel when the owl would swoop in with a letter of parchment tied to its leg. And I waited, starting to worry that maybe I wasn’t a wizard after all. And I waited, with the looming possibility that there was no magic peering around my wishes and imaginations.
As you’re probably predicting, the inevitable happened. The year came and went when I was supposed to receive the invitation. With the disappearance of that letter came the disappearance of all of my hope. Filled with a bit of fresh apathy, I continued my life leaving behind that dead dream that had lifted me up and then dropped me.
And soon, the dream was forgotten.
But as I grew up in a world with no spells or quidditch, as I was raised without wand or flying broomstick, as I became accustomed to there being no dragons or unicorns, I realized something. Magic did exist. Maybe it didn’t appear in the form that I had pictured while reading the Harry Potter series, but it was definitely there.
It sometimes showed itself when I was listening to a symphony of beautiful music. It surprised me every time I looked outside at night and saw the great moon and myriad of stars. It comforted me in the form of loyal friends or caring family. It said hello as I witnessed moments of extreme kindness or affection and twinkled in my tears as I dwelled on them. It resided in places of remotest nature and utmost sacredness. Magic was joy. Magic was love. Magic was music. Magic was hope. Magic was God.
So I became content once again. True, I did not live as I had imagined since I was so very young and wistful for a world that I would never reach. But I had found the world as it truly is, and found it to be a hundred times more fulfilling. For magic is real, and magic is here.
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JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 41 comments.
I LOVE HARRY POTTER TOO!
I first started reaidng it when I was nine/ten. I love it, I feel like it's a part of my childhood. I still an't believed it ended. I haven't seen it yet.
When I read the last book the day after it came out(yes, I went to a midnight party) after I finished it I bauled like a baby. I cried for an hour.
And I think I'm going to cry after the last part ends too!
But I never believed that magic existed. Sometimes I would play it but never believed it.
I actually see J.K Rowling with my own eyes. I saw her speak at a Harvard graduation(I live near Harvard). Someone was nice neough to give me tickets. I went with a good freind of mine. And I also got a letter from her, an automated letter but still.
This is so beautiful, and I can really relate to your experience. I too waited for my Hogwarts letter to arrive when I turned the magical age of eleven. And, I too, was crushed when it never arrived.
You are right about the everyday magic that people are sometimes blinded to by fantasy books or stories, but you forgot one more magic; that is magic of creation.
Thanks for writing this :)
Finally! Someone who loves Harry Potter too. I'm not alone!
Thanks for commenting...
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