Then, the year Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban was released, my sister borrowed all three from a friend and I thought I'd better read them if I was going to continue being critical.
That was the end of my criticism! J. K. Rowling captured me from the first chapter, all about the mysterious cat and robed wizard, and even from the first paragraph, which is so delightfully British omniscient storytelling style:
"Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense."Of course, by the time I'd met all the other characters, laughed at Lockhart's foibles in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, and agonised over Sirius' and Buckbeak's fates in the third book, there was no turning back; I turned into one of those people who signed up for same-day Saturday delivery of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, and hardly said two words to my family that weekend as I devoured the book.
I reread them all every year as the next books - and then the films (which are brilliantly characterise but, in my opinion, don't have much else going for them) - were released: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, during which I wished I could live with them all in Number 12 Grimmauld Place; Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince, in which I have to say I was furious at Snape; and Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, after which I fell in love with Snape. Not to mention the two textbooks of Harry's, and The Tales of Beedle the Bard...
Here're two pages of Rowling's notes:
And here're two Snape related images: