Harry Potter Saved My Life

Photo: Harry Potter, the boy who lived
via weheartit

I’ve told many people this before – that Harry Potter saved my life – but I don’t think I ever explained how or why. This will be the true story of how a boy who lived in a cupboard under the stairs gave my the hope and perseverance to carry on with life.

I won’t go into much detail about my early life. Just know that I grew up in a house with alcoholic and drug using parents with two older sisters. My memories of my childhood are hit or miss with more misses than not. What I’m trying to say is that I don’t remember much of my childhood. I do remember the escalation of my parents drinking. I remember staying up until 4 am on a school night to make sure my parents came home. I remember listening to my parents fight and scream at each other before I would make sure they got to bed alright. I remember hearing them make up afterwards.

I was depressed. At ten years old I thought about death more than I think was healthy. Most of the time I thought about my parents dying or killing someone as they drove home from whatever hellish place they chose to drink at that night. But sometimes I wondered how nice it would be to just slip off in the night and never wake up again. I thought of how peaceful not existing anymore would be and I found myself thinking of my own death more and more.

I had liked Harry Potter growing up. It was an alright movie franchise but it didn’t really mean much to me at first. I saw all of the movies in theater because my mom and sister Grace were fans and I was a tagalong fan. I remember, as the years went on, my actual liking for the movies growing. I had a massive crush on Tom Felton that probably had something to do with it but either way I became a Potter fan. The fifth movie was about to come out when I decided I needed to read the book before I saw the movie. My mom and sister were on board with this idea and we shared a bonding moment I had never had previously with either of them before as my mom read the book to us.

Yes, I know. What a travesty it is that I started with the fifth book. It’s too late to change the past now though so moving on. My mom read Grace and me the book and I was in love. It was such a pivotal moment. I remember feeling awe for the character and the magic of the book. It forged a way into my desperate and starving heart. I was inspired. So after the fifth book came the sixth and by the time we finished that one the seventh book was being published. Then we went in chronological order until we reached the fifth book again.

My life became Harry Potter. My neighbor and our friend and I played Harry Potter together. We made wands and bought brooms. When I wasn’t playing it or watching the movies I was reading the books. They provided me light in my dark life and an escape that I hadn’t previously known I had. And even though my home life was still getting worse, I knew that if a boy who lived in a cupboard and died for his friends despite wanting to live could be a hero and survive then a girl who lived in darkness and wanted to die could live for her friends and survive as well.

Harry Potter was everything to me. It gave me with hope and happiness and inspired me to read more and open my mind to new ideals and beliefs. It taught me not to assume I know who someone is based off of what I hear or think. It taught me that it’s never too late to become brave and stand up for what I believe in and that having a different belief from someone else doesn’t mean you still can’t be friends with them. It taught me you can save the person you hate and still not like them. So please, don’t burn these books or any book for that matter. They matter to someone even if that person is no longer you.