How a girl under a blanket read about the boy in the cupboard under the stairs

My journey to Hogwarts

Photo by Aditya Vyas on Unsplash

When you’re raised in a home with a strong religious background, you need to know the right keywords to convince your parents to let you read the middle school fiction books your peers are raving about.

I succeeded in that where *The Lord of the Rings was concerned. It’s an allegory, I told my parents. And Tolkien is a friend of C.S. Lewis, who wrote The Chronicles of Narnia*, a series we’ve been reading ever since we were young. Okay, they agreed, you can watch the series, and you can read the books.

But Harry Potter was a different story. Harry Potter was magic with a capital M. Harry Potter was witches and spells and sorcery and darkness and death and sinister things lurking in the shadows. Already, the religious circles were publishing white papers on why parents had to stop their children from reading the series at all costs.

I didn’t bother asking, knowing that my parents would just say no. I didn’t mind too much, but then a friend offered to lend the books to me. Read it in secret, she said. Just hide the cover. She, too, wasn’t allowed to read the series, but it was easier for her because she could read them while in school. On the other hand, we were homeschooled, so I’d have to be crafty about finding out where to read it in our little two-bedroom apartment where privacy was just about as rare as randomly finding a house elf in your closet.

The girl under the blanket

You know the story of the kids who read with a flashlight underneath the blanket? That became my setting for the Harry Potter novels at night. When I was sure everyone was asleep, I’d gently open the drawer where I’d hidden the book then jump back in bed and cover myself with a blanket. I’d read by that dim light, my eyes devouring the words, my heart pounding in my chest — I could never be too sure if it was from excitement over what I was reading or fear that I would be discovered.

Sometimes, when the chapters became too suspenseful and I couldn’t put the book down, I’d sneak some reading in the morning. My sister and I did our school in our room, on foldable tables we’d open every morning. I’d take the chunky math and science books and pile them on my desk, declaring that those were my subjects for the day. But behind them, I’d hide the Harry Potter books, pretending to do sums or work on grammar when in reality, I was too impatient to wait till bedtime to read the next chapter.

By book 5, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, reading in secret became more difficult as the tomes got bigger. I tried to find creative solutions. I’d hide the cover with a sheet of paper as an extra security measure, afraid that I’d be found out. One time, I was careless, and my mom saw me reading it. While I was always reading a book, perhaps this one stood out because the cover had a white sheet over it. I can’t remember the excuse I gave, but she must have been satisfied with what I said because she didn’t press.

That was how I read the Harry Potter books for the first time. In secrecy and cloaked by the shadows of the night. I couldn’t savor the pages, so I probably jumbled up the events and characters in my head in my haste to read it.

Rediscovering the Harry Potter books

Some years down the road, after I’d started working in a corporate job, I found relief and release from everyday stresses by going to the gym at the end of the day. I often found myself surrounded by fellow gym-goers playing heart-pumping, blood-rushing perky beats to keep themselves motivated throughout their exercise routines. And I suspect I might have, too, if not for discovering the podcast Potterless by Mike Schubert.

I decided to reread the books alongside the podcast episodes, which became my jam while jogging on a treadmill or cycling or lifting weights. If you’ve listened to Potterless, you know how some of Mike’s observations are downright hilarious. I often had to grab my towel and pretend to wipe my sweat when really, I was choking back a laugh.

When you reread your childhood books, rarely do you turn to the last page without becoming a changed person or reflecting a little bit about how you’ve grown since you last read them. This second journey into a once forbidden world of fantasy felt like a rediscovery of myself. I took the Sorting Hat quiz on the Harry Potter website, and I was delighted to discover (as I suspected) that I am a Ravenclaw. I watched the movies a few months after that and enjoyed them, though I much rather prefer the books.

I remember feeling frustrated about the Ron-Hermione and Harry-Ginny pairings when I read it for the first time. It was a betrayal that felt almost akin to Laurie marrying Amy and not Jo in Little Women. But when I reread the books, I understood why.

I sympathized more with conflicted characters like Professor Snape and Draco Malfoy. Mama Weasley’s immense worry for her family took on a deeper meaning. And the deaths of those who sacrificed their lives to help Harry felt a little more raw and painful.

Books like The Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter usually portray the battles between good and evil with a majestic flourish. But we often skim over the grey areas that blur the lines between both sides. We forget the struggles the characters face — Frodo with the burden of the ring, Harry with the burden of being the Chosen One — struggles that can serve as lesson points for anyone and everyone. Allegory or not, book on witchcraft and magic or not, there’s a lot you can learn from either series — even as a child.

As I grew older, my parents stopped monitoring the books I read, trusting me enough to make decisions of my own. We just wanted to make sure you were learning something from the books you are reading, they said. I started exploring beyond middle grade books, classics, and the kid-friendly fantasy novels of my childhood into other genres and authors I had never read before. Occasionally though, I return to my roots. I reread the books I loved while growing up and learn a little more about them and a little more about myself.

Post script: A few years ago, a clothing chain at a nearby mall released their Harry Potter collection, including shirts from the four Houses. I bought a Ravenclaw one and was so proud of it. And when I got home, I didn’t even have to hide.

Of Books and Bookworms is a literary publication exploring books, reading, writing, and the ideas that stay with us long after the final page.

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