I don't believe in many things. I approach most ideas with doubt, and I roll my eyes so frequently that it’s surprising they're not stuck that way. Call me a disenchanted 20-something with a chip on my shoulder. I'm skeptical.

But I do believe in magic.

I’ve believed ever since my third-grade teacher sat my class in a circle after recess and read aloud, “Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.” No abra cadabra or anything particularly fancy, but those words started a story that has kept me spellbound for a decade and a half.

Before then, I hated reading. My school’s reading program required me to read books, and I saw it as a chore. I did not think of myself as a reader. Then, my teacher read to us about The Boy Who Lived, the boy whose life was transformed when he received his Hogwarts letter. My life was transformed as well.

For the first time, I looked forward to reading. I began to read ahead in the series. I stayed up all hours of the night, using my TV for a booklight.

The characters meant so much to me, it felt like they were real. I knew the spells by heart, knew which house I would be sorted into, knew what my life would be like at Hogwarts. I was thoroughly enchanted with J.K. Rowling’s world.

The books shaped my childhood and adolescence. I made my best friends read along with me so I could have someone to talk to about the wizarding world. They fell under the spell too.

We went to the midnight releases for each book where we dressed as our favorite characters, ate wizard food, and had our own wands (sticks we found on the playground or dowels from the hardware store). We stayed up those nights until we finished the entire book. When the movies came out, we went in groups for the first showings, wands in our hands, eyes glazed over with fascination.

It was a magical time. As I grew up, it became more and more popular to love the books and movies. People wore HP gear, and it was easier to identify fellow fans in a sea of muggles and become their friend. My friends and I continued to go to each movie and book’s premiere, year after year, no less excited than we were a decade before.

When the last movie came out, I felt a sense of loss. It marked the end of an era for my generation. I remember talking to my friend in the theater before “Deathly Hallows: Part 2” about how some colleges had Quidditch teams and how it would be cool if our college had one. She agreed. We started one. We thought people would think we were insane.

I cannot tell you how wrong we were. Harry Potter’s appeal was such that hundreds of people at my school immediately supported us. I met even more fans, made even more friends, created even more memories. I’m also proud to say that it’s now a nationally competing team sport at my college.

My involvement in Quidditch led me to become more involved at my college, and I met people I never would have otherwise. I met my boyfriend at a Quidditch event. My sorority little and I fell in love with each other because of our mutual love for all things HP.

While I never received my Hogwarts letter, to my 11-year-old self’s disappointment, I still experienced the magic of Harry’s world. I fell in love with reading and decided to become an English major. As an English major, people always ask me what my favorite book is, and I tell them I can’t possibly choose. But the truth is, you always remember your first love. “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone” was mine. I fell hard and fast, and I was never the same afterward.

I still believe in magic, just not the kind practiced at Hogwarts. (Although I fervently wish I could summon things with a quick accio.) I believe in the magic Rowling created when she wrote the series.

It was that magic that made me fall in love with reading, so much that I chose my career based off of that love. Her magical words have inspired me in times when I really needed guidance. (Dumbledore is basically my guru.) The books inspired magical memories in my childhood that I look back on with a smile. It brought people into my life that have changed it for the better.

The real magic in the “Harry Potter” series isn’t anything taught in a class at Hogwarts. The true magic comes from how much the story has changed so many people’s lives. I'm just one of many. Spells, potions, and golden snitches may not be real, but friendship, courage, and love certainly are. And if those things aren’t magical, what is?