By Josh Gardner, who got sorted into Gryffindor on his twelfth try

Like every child who counts, I grew up loving Harry Potter. It got our generation into reading and spending hundreds of pounds at a walk-through studio tour in Leavesden. 

I cherish my memories of staying up late to flick through each book again and again, marvelling at their originality and quality of writing because I hadn’t read anything else at the time. It made me feel all brainy like Hermione, whose name I misread for four years.

Harry Potter was truly our own, apart from all the adults reading it. Unlike unimaginative adult tales about magical rings or dragon kingdoms, it was original. I pity what they had to make do with.

And the movies! Far from cynical cash-ins starring a non-actor, they were authentic adaptations of our beloved tales. They even split the last part in two and shot it in 3D to include every detail.

But oddly, when I picked up the series for my summer re-read, I found them… underwhelming. Was it because I’d become an adult, because I’d read them to death, or because JK Rowling is evil now?

Instead of gripping page-turners, they felt like the deranged word salad of a writer whose editor was drowning in dollars. As I found myself skipping whole chapters, I wondered if I was the problem.

Friends couldn’t help, denouncing me for supporting that ‘evil terf hack’ and encouraging me to read books for adults, like the Heartstopper series of graphic novels.

I struggled through the first few books, desperately searching for all those moments that had shaped my childhood. Then I hit the midpoint of Order of the Phoenix and knew I could go no further. No wonder we were all searching for reasons to hate her.

It’s a shame really, these were wholesome stories about an abused orphan being used as a pawn in a game of good vs evil. But I guess it’s time to put it behind me and grow up. If you need me, I’ll be adulting with the queer representation in Inside Out 2.