When I was younger, I was always waiting for my Hogwarts letter to arrive. I knew that Hogwarts was a fictional place, but that didn't stop me from hoping. I thought that maybe, just maybe, the beloved J.K. Rowling had discovered that Hogwarts existed and so she wrote about it. I thought that maybe one day, the time would come when I could go to Hogwarts and learn. When I turned twelve, I realized it would never happen. I realized that I would never get my letter, and I would never get to go and live my dream. I realized that I was stuck with my collectors items, my movies, my books. I realized that the closest to Hogwarts I would ever come, was Universal Studios. I realized my dream wouldn't and couldn't come true. I realized that the owl carrying my Hogwarts acceptance letter will never come. It did not get lost, it did not get delayed, nothing like that, it simply wasn't coming. I still dreamt of going to King's Cross Station and running through Platform 9 3/4 to find the brilliant red of the Hogwarts Express. I dreamt of carrying my trunk onto the train and riding for hours on end across the beautiful landscape. I thought about which of my cats I would bring with me to Hogwarts or if I would purchase a pet from the Magical Menagerie when I visited Diagon Alley to purchase my robes, books, wand, and all my supplies. I dreamt about riding the boat across the Great Lake along with Hagrid and the other first years. I dreamt about my first steps on the ground and in the castle. I dreamt about the sorting and my common room. I dreamt about the classes, I dreamt about the Great Hall, I dreamt about the tests, I dreamt about watching the Quidditch matches. I dreamt about it all even though I knew I would never get my chance to go there. Then one day, we decided to take a trip to England. I did loads of research about Harry Potter things that I mustn't miss. I regained hope. My trip was cancelled because of the dumb Muggle virus, but I still have hope in my heart.