I have never been one to submit myself to journalism. I don't do interviews. I don't particularly read The Daily Prophet, but I do read. I blame that on my wife of 25 years. It's also because of her that you're reading this today.
I, Harry James Potter, am writing this column myself. Forgive me if this doesn't seem worldly enough for you, or if I don't sound as eloquent at you expect me to be. That's my wife's job.
My wife and I are childhood sweethearts. We just didn't realize it until our early twenties. We have three wonderful children, two of which are married and graced us with one grandchild with another on the way. Words can not accurately express what I feel for my family. They are my heart and soul, and without them, I am nothing.
I write this today because this is the beginning of a twenty-five column installment at the request and inspiration of one of my best friend's wife. The first column is short, but I assure the next chapter will not be so.
Why am I doing this now, at 50 years old?
For a simple reason.
I am dying. Yes, the Boy Who Lived is dying. I write these columns for my wife and children. I write these columns for my friends. I'm a quiet person, but I want something for my family to remember me by.
Some time ago, I was handed a book written by an American muggle and I felt inspired. The book is called The Last Lecture.
I felt it fitting because I have been a professor at Hogwarts for the last twenty fives years, and this is my last lecture.
You may cry. You may smile.
I don't want you to feel sorry for me. I just want you to read, and to understand.
This is my prologue.
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