Well Steffi, another September first has come and gone and another year goes by without my Hogwarts letter. I was really looking forward to riding the Hogwarts Express today and seeing the castle.
I suppose you didn’t get yours either. Being a muggle is just the worst.
My Harry Potter workout challenge sort of happened last weekend. I got to the feast, and with all the ghosts and paintings talking I was pretty done. But I watched 1,3,5,7,8 the rest of the weekend. I swear I’ll never get through 7 and 8 without crying. BUT I LOVE WATCHING IT. I’m sick, I know.
Anyway I just wanted to wish you a happy september 1st and let’s hope for next year, yes? I’ll leave you with my favorite paragraph from Sorcerer’s Stone, which gives me chills every time I read it:
A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours’ time by Mrs. Dursley’s scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley… He couldn’t know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: “To Harry Potter — the boy who lived!”