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Harry Potter was almost 11 years old when he was accepted to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Within a few weeks of turning 11, I met Harry for the first time.

We've been growing up together ever since.

I read "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone" on an airplane back from Hong Kong, where I vacationed with family in early February 2000.

I empathized with awkward Harry. He was confused about where he belonged in the world. I was sick of the mundane and still dealing with the effects of my parents' divorce.

Spellbound, I borrowed the next two books in the series that summer from my school librarian, who happened to be my best friend's mom.

Harry and I learned about racism together when I read Book Two, "Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets."

He was exposed to the attacks of the mudblood killings. Mudblood is a derogatory term for witches and wizards born to nonmagic parents. Some purebred wizards thought themselves better than these magic folks.

In real life, my mom and stepdad, who is black, were expecting. My friends inquired if I cared that my baby sister would be biracial. I didn't, and I tried to explain that to them.

I was oblivious to the greater theme of a failed prison system in Book Three, "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban." But, like Harry, I was trying to get to know my godfather better. Mine happens to be my maternal grandmother's foster son, who was sent out of Cuba by his real mom when Castro took power.

I had caught up with the series by the time Book Four, "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire," was released in July 2000. Most consider this their favorite. Evil has a true face and fellow student Cedric Diggory dies in front of Harry during the Triwizard Tournament. For sheer adventure, it is my favorite, too.

I had just finished my freshman year at La Cueva High School when Book Five, "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix," was released in June 2003. Potter faced the disbelief of his peers and the magic world when he said Voldemort — the dark wizard whose destiny is entwined with that of Harry's — was at large, again. Like most teenagers, I felt misunderstood by my friends and family, too.

I read Book Six, "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince" by candlelight. A thunderstorm had knocked out the power that night in July 2005. I had just finished my junior year of high school.

The reading was interspersed with text messaging my then-boyfriend, who was also reading the book. I was growing up and so was Harry. I was ready to take on the world and apply to college, just as Harry was ready to leave Hogwarts and find and destroy the rest of Voldemort's horcruxes, the vessels that hold pieces of the dark wizard's torn soul.

I chose to attend American University in Washington, D.C., and have finished my first year there. I'm leaving my childhood behind, but I'm ready to experience the last of the magic in "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" before I'm all grown up.

Like many die-hard fans, I'll be at a midnight release party on July 20. And I will not wait patiently for my copy of the book — I'll jump around nervously.

I will probably be an unsafe driver as I read at red lights. I will drink coffee and won't sleep until I finish the book. On Monday, I hope I'll be able to stay awake while writing stories on my laptop.

I can't help thinking, "Will the Harry Potter books remain popular for generations to come, or will the boxed set, sure to come, take away the thrill of having to wait for the next book? Will growing up with Harry be something unique to me and my peers?"

As I wonder what will happen to Harry, I wonder what will happen to me. But as the books have taught me before, the future is uncertain.