I was twelve years old when, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone (renamed Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone for the US) was published. I remember still having, or was it already having?, my Christmas lights hanging around my room like a night light. I remember curling under my comforter unable to put this book down. Reading by those colorful Christmas lights. I loved it. It was enchanting. I wanted to be a witch and go away to school and get out of my house and my situation. I’d just left behind my best friend and hadn’t met any new ones at school yet. I still have that comforter. I’m brought this memory because I’m sitting here knitting another scarf, listening to Stephen Fry narrate Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, so that I can refresh my memory of the books before I read the final one.

I’d never really been a huge fan of Harry Potter books once I got older, but sitting here listening to the first book- I remember why I liked it so much. And I remember staying up all night on a school night to read this book. And I remember hiding it quickly when my mom opened the door.

She said, “Goodnight, my lovelies. And Sara, I know you’re reading.”

She then closed the door.

I didn’t know if that meant put the book down and go to bed or if that meant I didn’t have to hide it from her because she was my mother. I remember telling my sister afterwards when we were talking about it, “Seven years at Hogwarts?! Seven books! That will take too long. I hope I’m not too old when the last one comes out.”

Listening to the first book has brought all this back to me. I read a lot of the books, but I’d certainly lost that spark. For those of you that kept it, today is a very special day for you. The seventh and final book is to be released in six and a half hours.
On another note, I finished Snookie’s second scarf (as he’s leaving soon) and I’m working on another.

Cheers.