Harry Potter and I got off on the wrong foot. As a middle school English teacher, I should’ve devoured those books. The series began the year I started teaching middle school, and they were credited with resurging a generation’s interest in reading.

Well, first of all, I hadn’t planned on being a middle school teacher. I had always seen myself as a high school English teacher, saying smart things about The Grapes of Wrath as students smiled and nodded in the discovery of classic literature. I initially viewed the middle school job – and most of the young adult literature that came with it – as minor league ball, a stepping stone rather than a destination. And fantasy books, in particular, rankled me. I refused to read any book with a wizard – even during the Lord of the Rings hype.

My wife, on the other hand, was thoroughly enchanted with the Harry Potter books, and she dragged me to the first two movies. I probably sighed too loud in the middle of the second one, and she gave up on me. Potter just wouldn’t go away, though. I’ve witnessed the hype for seven book releases and eight movie premiers: midnight sellings, midnight showings, costumes, all-night read-a-thons. I refused to budge, thinking it would go away if I ignored it.

Culture is a grocery store, and with limited space in the cart, I saw no need to go down the Harry Potter aisle. In the 80s, I knew a guy who refused to watch Top Gun – simply because he enjoyed watching people erupt: “What???” In the 90s, anyone who boycotted Seinfeld was doomed to be out of the loop on dozens of references and quotes. Now, people bug me about missing Iron Man, 24, and Lost. For a couple of years, I’ve been meaning to see The Blind Side and The Wrestler … and I want to read Life of Pi and The Road … but I have young kids, a job, a lawn to mow, a fence that needs staining, etc. Still, I’ve managed to read The Kite Runner, see Slumdog Millionaire, and catch most episodes of The Office. Why don’t people talk about those anymore?

While these things come and go, that resilient Potter kid only grows stronger. Middle school students stick by him year after year; parents and even clergy members boast the values of the series in public forums. Ignoring Harry Potter proved much more difficult than ignoring American Idol.

Fast forward to 2011. A few things have changed. For one thing, my skepticism of young adult literature thawed. The Book Thief, 13 Reasons Why, and The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian are great books, period. And after becoming a father and reading hundreds (thousands?) of kids’ books to my sons, their enthusiasm helped me regain my “willing suspension of disbelief.” Similarly, teaching Greek mythology to middle school students showed me how to kick plausibility to the curb and enjoy the story. 

I used to know how to do that. Growing up obsessed with Star Wars, I had no hang-ups with Jawas, Wookies, and Ewoks. Somehow, inexplicably, I convinced myself that since fantasy characters were unrealistic, they were automatically unworthy – to which Yoda would say, “You must unlearn what you have learned.”

Maybe it was all worth another shot. Tackling the Harry Potter series could benefit my wife, my job, and, someday, my sons. Using the books-on-CD format, I could listen to the books while commuting – normally an unproductive time anyway. Starting in January, I set out on a seven-books-and-seven-movies-in-seven-months pace to ready me for premiere night of the final movie on July 15. I could take my wife and leave my sigh at home.

Despite having only a seven-minute commute, I finished the first book easily: six discs. I was mildly discouraged when opening the second book: seven discs. Then the fifth book: 23 discs. Ugh.

To improve my progress, I started playing the CDs in the kitchen while making my morning coffee and oatmeal. I’m the first one up in the house, and there’s a CD player within earshot in every room. It was Harry Potter while brushing my teeth, while shaving, and while perusing through the morning paper (especially difficult). Our basement had minor flooding in April, and the daily mopping gave me a chance to simultaneously chip away at the books. Throw in an errand involving Hastings Way and some red lights, and I could get through a whole disc in one day.

I maintained pace and got more invested with each book, having more and more “driveway moments” where I waited in the car to finish a good part. I wasn’t, however, completely sold until the unthinkable happened. Early July, nearing the end of the sixth book, heading up Bracket Hill to get Fortune Cookie take-out for the family, a major character (whose name I won’t reveal here) died. I’d lived with this character almost daily since January; how could this happen? Not since Yoda died in 1983 have I experienced such a bruising fictional death. Up until this tragedy, I had stayed on the sidelines in the Harry Potter phenomenon, but no longer. I was ready to grab a wand and enter the fight myself. 

Now I’m on the seventh book, staring down The Deathly Hallows. I’ve rejected the movie premier deadline. This is too intense, with too much at stake, to rush. I want no distractions, and I want justice. From this point onward, every word counts.