My name is eL., and I am a Potter-holic. It has been fourteen hours since my last magical indulgence.

In 2005, I wasn’t so different from the rest of you. Harry Potter was a kid’s book. I’d watched the second movie with my nephew and was unimpressed. I scoffed and rolled my eyes at adults who had their noses stuck in the latest novel, The Half Blood Prince. Could it possibly be true that grown-ups were dressing up as wizards and witches and showing up at public events like a bunch of Trekkies with magic wands? BAHAHAHA!

And then I met a true Potter-Head.

My friend Tiffany showed up at work one day wearing a purple shirt with “9 & ¾” on it. I inquired about this odd choice of apparel and she rattled off something about a Hogwarts train. Upon noticing the clueless expression on my face, she gave me a horrified look that shouted “You’re not one of us!” The next day, I was greeted with Harry Potter books one and two on my desk with a note that said, “Get through these two and I’ll bring you the third one.”

Being that I didn’t have anything better to do at the time, I indulged her request and began my journey into Hogwarts. By the end of book three, The Prisoner of Azkaban, I was hooked.

Since 2005, I’ve read all of the books once (at least) and own all of the movies. The entire series is neatly arranged in hard back in a prominent place on my bookshelf and I frequently listen to them on audio while I run at the gym.  For the release of final book, The Deathly Hallows, I was among the goons standing in line at midnight at Barnes and Noble, wearing my “Trust Snape!” sticker as I waited to receive my pre-ordered copy of the book.  Many pots of coffee and sixteen hours later, I teared up as I closed the final chapter on Harry Potter.  Still, on a scale of one to ten in Potter Mania, I would say I’m only a seven. Tiffany is a ten… and some days maybe an eleven.