But as she started reading, I was lost in Harry's world, even though she read not half of the story to us. Two friends of mine were raving about the book a little while later, but I refused to listen, for I hate it when people tell me the background of a story, because it ruins the mood and most of the time, the book, for me.

I finally went out and bought the large book, the day before school ended. I read about a hundred and twenty pages that night and set the book down before I went to sleep with the satisfaction that I knew I was going to love this book, and I had not even reached the real adventure of the book, which gave the book an interesting feel; I did not want to but it down, but alas, I had to.

The last day of school, I brought the book to school and showed my teacher who, ditzy as she is, was thrilled that I had gotten it. When we went to the park that day, I sat down at a table and read, zealous to the book.

An incident with water spilling on the cover did not distract me - except to set the cover on the grass to dry - from the book, which was not nearly at the peak of its adventure, though it was ever-growing.

A guy friend of mine actually sat down next to me and tried to get me to read the book aloud to him, but I refused, not wanting to loose my place in the excitement and the adventure that Harry was experiencing.

When I finished the book later that night and I set down the book, I was overcome with the greatest of satisfaction that only emanates from the greatest of books and I was even more intrigued by Harry, Voldemort, Dumbledore, Hagrid, and all the others, even Draco Malfoy.

I was at the bookstore nearly the next day, demanding the next book, but they denied having it, yet the harder I pressed, the "harder" they looks and finally found the next book, called Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.