The day I turned 11 and nothing came through the postage slot except for a card from my grandmother, I was faced with a choice between two world views. The first was that my letter from Hogwarts got lost in the mail . The second was that the Harry Potter universe did not exist, because if there were a magical underbelly lining the drudgery of daily life , I surely would be part of it. For all Potter fans of my generation, the 11th birthday was a rite of passage . It was the day the lining between fiction and reality hardened and was made permanent. It was the day we were reminded that, for all its elaborate lore and vivid characters and importance in our lives, Harry Potter was just a book . Advertisement At least, that’s what I thought between the ages of 7 and 17, when I was part of the world’s biggest book club. Now, through the Harry Potter universe built on the bricks of Rowling’s seven-novel canon, it’s been crowded by themed rollercoaster rides and oodles of new information meant to fill in the book’s blank margins. At 11, I reluctantly accepted that the […]