I believe in magic. I believe in Harry Potter. I believe that the entire wizarding world exists and is simply hidden behind trick walls and buried miles underground. I believe in Hungarian Horntails and Basilisks. I believe in trolls, giants, and boggarts. I believe in Quidditch, and would give anything in the world to own my very own Firebolt.
I have come, after many inner struggles, to accept the fact that I am a muggle, and that I will never get my acceptance letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. However, that does not mean that I will give up wishing. As long as I keep hope alive, there is still a possibility that everything that dances in the depths of my imagination does indeed exist. Whenever I see an owl, I always double check to see if it has a letter tied to its leg or held in its beak, and I wonder if I glanced at it mid-journey.
Look at the world, there are magical forces affecting every day. Think about fog. Where does it come from? Easy, the dementors are breeding. Think about why bridges are collapsing: Death Eaters are running amok. I believe that Harry Potter did destroy Lord Voldemort when he was only a year old. And now I believe that he is gone forever, because Harry Potter has finally finished him off. For neither could live while the other survives. I believe in Albus Dumbledore and all the good he stands for. I believe that Lord Voldemort was wrong, and there is a difference between good and evil. I believe that power isn’t everything. And mostly I believe that what we each hold dear and alive in our hearts will ultimately affect that people we become. Whether muggle, wizard, half-giant, squib, or even goblin, we all have dreams and desires. I believe in imagination, and the power it holds over us all. It breathes life into even the smallest wishes of our hearts, and drives us to succeed against all odds. I believe in magic, and if imagination isn’t the purest form of magic, then I beg you to tell me what is.