Before I read Harry Potter, I didn’t care much for books. The only series I enjoyed prior to entering the world of witchcraft and wizardry was the Christie Miller Series. It was a female Christian-teen coming of age fiction page turner and I was thoroughly disappointed on Christmas morning when I was hoping to read about the adventures of Sierra Jensen in the next series, but instead was gifted a boxed trilogy about some boy in glasses with a lightning scar. Well, boredom struck over Christmas break and I decided to give The Philosopher’s Stone a try. I flew through it, The Chamber of Secrets and The Prisoner of Azkaban.
I was hooked.
I wanted more.
I impatiently waited for the release of each book that followed. I fell in love with the plot, the characters and the care that Rowling took to make her fictional world a reality. Like most Potterheads, I didn’t just read Harry Potter, I grew up with Harry, Ron and Hermoine. Every time I read the series, the books feel like home. JK Rowling turned me into a reader. She is the Queen of the Book Jungle.