And then the temptation became even greater when I got 7 new, beautiful, hardback Harry Potter books for my graduation present—all my very own. They even came in their own Harry Potter trunk. I put them in my closet, away from easy access but right in my line of vision from my bed. Every night, I would gaze longingly at those books, wanting to read them, to smell their pages, to stretch out their new bindings.
The temptation was easier to resist when I had a long line of books to read. But, I finished the first portion of the Runelords series, I read all the books that Shannan read in her English class (most of them, anyway), and I finally got my hands on Mockingjay. For the first time in a couple of months, I am not sure where to go for entertainment next. And those Harry Potter books are beckoning to me, and everyone in my family is lost in the Harry Potter world. (I'm pretty much always lost in that world, actually.)
However, I think finishing Mockingjay tipped the scales for me. I need to read something warm and fuzzy.
So this morning, feeling like I was invading sacred territory, I reached up into my closet, opened the Harry Potter trunk, and pulled out the first book. I was almost afraid to start reading it because it is in such good shape. And there is that part of me—the part that tells me not to eat the chocolate chips—that keeps nagging me.
However, my evil side wins (as it usually does) and I dash upstairs, carefully take off the dust jacket, and begin reading. Who cares if I haven't forgotten a whole lot yet—I haven't read a Harry Potter book for 15 months and it's high time that I truly immerse myself in the world of magic. And it'll still be a magical experience because I have been anticipating it for so long.
Be prepared for a lot more talk of Harry Potter in the immediate future. Right now, however, I am going to find out what is bugging Mr. Dursley so much.