As I sit curled up in a ball against my wall, I cry. I cry about everything. I cry about grandma, about my dad, about my insecurities, about my hopelessness, and about my mental issues. As I sob, my arm brushes something cold. I open my eyes and untuck my arms, where I find my necklace dangling from my throat. I stare down at it. I think about the charm, the Deathly Hallows symbol, which means so much to me. I think of everything the series it came from has done for me. I move my hand towards it and just feel the cold metal. I smell the bitter scent it creates. I know that I can live on, and this symbol represents that for me. I straighten my legs out, sit up with my back pressed to the wall, and wipe the running tears from my face and neck. I stare at the back of my hand, now soaked with discarded salt water. I will be okay.

When I was little, the first book I picked out myself was at my grandma’s house. It looked interesting to me, and I wanted to read it. There was a giant bird that reminded me of a dragon on the cover and I love dragons. I picked it up, not knowing that someday I’d depend on that series to live. I never really read or watch things that aren’t popular. I just want to be included. Before that started, I picked out this book. It just so happened that I’d be part of how popular it became. I read this book (to the best of my young ability) and fell in love. It turns out, it was there because my oldest cousin loved it. My grandma told her that I liked the book, and she came up to me later. She handed me another book, with a character that looked just like the boy I had read about on the cover. It was the first book, and I read the second book in the series. I loved this book. Later that summer, I went to a second-hand book sale with my grandma and we found every other book in the series together. I read every one, even though I only had a basic knowledge of reading at that point. I would read those books over and over again, relishing the magic they brought me. I’d remember the exact page numbers of my favorite parts or favorite chapters. I loved the artwork at the beginning of every chapter. I tried (and of course failed) to recreate book covers, chapter artwork, or character descriptions. I could not stop thinking of this series. Eventually, because I was one out of two of the people in my family who liked it, it faded a bit because I barely saw my cousin. I had no one to talk to about it.

A few years later, I rediscovered the books on my shelf. I decided to reread the entire series, and I even did a book report on the first book. I quickly reread the entire series, and soon discovered that there were movies. I watched every one I could get my hands on, and my dad bought the entire set available for me (the Deathly Hallows had not come out yet). My books were gaining popularity, and rapidly. I could talk about these books with lots of people now, and I was known as the “Harry Potter girl” in all my classes. Over that summer, my cousins came into town and we watched the first part of the Deathly Hallows and we talked about Harry Potter the whole time. We pretended we were at Hogwarts, running away from Death Eaters, picking out wands from the sticks available in the backyard, and having our oldest cousin sort us. We went to the Mudhens Harry Potter night and dressed up for the occasion. I didn’t like the music they played because I only believed in Harry Potter magic. Tinkerbell, the Wizards of Waverly Place, or anything else that was not Harry Potter magic was fake magic. Only Harry Potter brings me true magic. From that point, I constantly pretended I was a witch, I bought Harry Potter clothes and jewelry, and I only reread Harry Potter books. I was so happy. Give it a few years, and I’m in junior high.

My nerdiness is something to be ashamed of, and I’m bullied harshly for it. I stopped being myself and conformed to the popular ideals. I figured I’d rather stay hidden and like everyone else than myself and a target. This led to my depression. In seventh grade, I joined the cheer team, trying to fit in still. I was bullied and tormented there. I quit that as soon as I could. In eighth grade, I started reconnecting to my nerdy roots and finding friends in the honours classes that liked what I really liked. Then everything seemed to stop. My grandma died. The one who gave me this happiness, the one who started all of this and gave me hope was gone. Harry Potter and my grandma both are similar, because they saved me when I was with my dad. He was nicer and it was a better situation when she was there. She brought her food and gave him money and took us places. Harry Potter gave me a distraction when I was with him. I could watch the movies and become totally enveloped in the world, shutting out everything going on around me. I could escape through the books, because they gave me an excuse to be alone in my quiet room. But they wouldn’t have been there if not for my grandma. My grandma, however, was gone forever. This broke me. I became completely depressed all the time. I was constantly anxious already, but now I had no escape through her at my dad’s. Now, Harry Potter was tainted with the memory of her and the thought that she will never come back.

I was struggling with figuring myself out, and what made it harder was that I felt I had to conform. I couldn’t even be myself at that point. I was messed up. High school rolls around, and I’m starting to recover. I had no friends who liked Harry Potter anymore, which was unfortunate for me. High school was taxing. After the first month or so, my depression and anxiety were heightened like never before and I was more suicidal every day. One day, I was reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows for a distraction, and I came across a line that made me freeze where I was. Harry was asking Ollivander about the Deathly Hallows, and he explained, “It is rumored there are three: The Elder Wand, the Cloak of Invisibility, to hide you from your enemies, and the Resurrection Stone, to bring back loved ones from the dead. Together, they make one the Master of Death.” Now, I had always thought of Expecto Patronum as a powerful thought against my depression. The dementors represent Rowling’s depression, and Expecto Patronum combats them. So, that combats depression. The blue light was a power for me. But this line, the Master of Death, is a new power. Death had weighed so heavily on me. But this says all I need is the Deathly Hallows and I will be the Master of Death. To master something is a big idea. But to master death is amazing. I remembered a broken bracelet with a Deathly Hallows charm on it that my first best friend gave to me. I ran to my desk for it, and I found it quickly, which is unusual. I wondered if I should use ribbon or something else for a chain. But then I saw an old Hunger Games necklace I had. The charm had fallen off multiple times, so I never wore it. The odd thing is that the colour matched perfectly. The faded bronze colour was practically identical. I easily slid the charm off the necklace and replaced it with the Deathly Hallows charm. It looked perfect. I even had the creativity to make it. I clipped it on myself and cried. I am above death. I don’t need to kill myself, because I have Harry Potter “always.”

I am the Master of Death, and I have all the Hallows to prove it. I wear them around my neck. I wore that necklace every day. It served as a reminder that I am above death, I can live. It also served as a way of rebelling against the bullies that made me feel like I had to be boring and “normal.” Every time I wear that, I show that their words have no power over me.

Sometimes, though, I feel the thoughts creep their way back into my mind. That’s when I feel like I’m losing myself. All the things I love seem vague and useless. Anything that made me happy is gone. All I see now is the darkness looming over me. But I know what to do. I walk over to my jewelry box and snap open the lid. As my eyes roam over all my jewelry (sorted perfectly), I spot the bronze necklaces. I dig around, hands grazing all the necklaces, until I feel the stiff, thick line of the charm. I pull it out, staring at the Deathly Hallows symbol.

All I can think of is my childhood, when I first fell in love with the series. Then I remember when I finally saw the theme park, the happiest moment of my life. I recall all the strength the movies brought me when I needed an escape. I undo the lobster clasp and reach behind my neck. I fasten it and tug my hair out from under the chain. I glance over at my mirror, admiring the nerdy symbol. This is who I am. This makes me happy, regardless of what the cowardly minds of those who conform to “normal” standards tell me.

I question it anyway, and cover my face with my hands. The bitter metal smell wafts through my nostrils. The sensation grounds me. It’s a distraction, and it’s enough of one to ease my mind. I guide my hands away from my face, and correct my posture. I stand strong and tall, letting go of the harsh words of others. This matters to me, and that’s what’s important. I have the Deathly Hallows, making me the “Master of Death.” I am above death, and I will live on through anything.

I have been two very distinct people when it comes to Harry Potter. I have been my new self and my old self. My new self depends on Harry Potter for a light that doesn’t fade out. She wears her hair like Luna’s and dresses in blue to match her house. She clings to any Harry Potter things she has for happiness. My old self was Cassidy but she just loved Harry Potter. She would talk about it all the time, but needed no clothes to show she adored the series. She would carry the books with her everywhere to read constantly, and she never cared what people thought about her opinion on the books. My new Cassidy barely even relates to the old one, but I was her once. I still can be found wearing my Deathly Hallows necklace when I need a boost.

My necklace carries many dark things, but it also carries the best things. One specifically being the happiest and most vivid memory I have-when I went to Universal Orlando for the first time. I saved up as much money as I could and I was ecstatic beyond belief. I brought with every Harry Potter thing I owned, even if it was unnecessary. I can’t even explain how excited I was with words. When I was in the car, I coloured my Harry Potter colouring book, I listened to the soundtracks, and I watched the movies.

We got there right at dinnertime to find our cute hotel, with a view of Orlando and a peek of the parks. I wanted to go right then. My mom said we should get dinner at the strip of restaurants before you officially enter the park, and I was very excited. We went to Hard Rock Cafe and I ordered my favorite food, chicken strips. My mom was discussing the parks and what to do. I asked what we’d do tonight because it was only dinnertime and I wasn’t even near tired. I slept a ton on the ride there. She considered this. She said, “Well, what if I told you we’re going tonight?” My sister and I dropped our jaws and stared at each other. My mom questioned, “Would you guys like that?” We both responded, “Of course!” and ate our meals frantically.

We wandered towards the entrance and could not stop talking about everything. We did everything at the front, and though it was very exciting, I wanted to see Harry Potter things. My mom said, “Now it’s time for the real reason we’re here.” My sister and I bolted to the opening of Diagon Alley and waited for my parents to catch up. We saw the Knight Bus and 12 Grimmauld Place and we freaked out. My parents caught up, and we turned to the opening of Diagon Alley.

As soon as I stepped around the brick wall in front of Diagon Alley, my life changed. I saw bustling tourists trying to get to all the shops. People eating candy, drinking Butterbeer, and some dressed as Hogwarts students or characters. I smelled fresh air, slightly different because of the smell of the stone ground. There was also a smell of butterscotch, meat cooking, and humidity. It was a slightly warmer day, and wearing long sleeves was obviously a mistake. I rolled them up, glancing at the Hogwarts crest plastered on the front of the shirt. This is a dream come true. There were old-timey shops, a dragon on the Gringotts bank building, people waving wands, and animatronic animals everywhere. The crooked buildings were so accurate to the films, I cried. These people may love Harry Potter, but I depend on it. This place gives me life. As I walked around, I could hear people chattering and the movie soundtracks playing on hidden speakers. The scuffling of the stone ground was delightful to my ears. I heard magic-based sounds like those in the movies. I would constantly feel my necklace, just to connect it to the memory. We had the best day there.

When we got back to the hotel on our last day of the trip, my mom reimbursed all the money we spent. We asked why, and she just said she felt bad. This was her Christmas gift to us, and we shouldn’t have to spend our money on it. I had Harry Potter dreams from the first night right up until the night after we got back. This is my favorite memory of all time and it brings me the most happiness. I got to see all the performances and magic come to life right in front of my eyes. That magic never disappeared from the memory.

I carry my necklace as a reminder that I can live on. I will have bad days, but the happiest memories will always outshine them. I have hope for a future and I am above dying now. I can live, and I have all I need to show that.