Last August I spent my programming breaks in the grass around 156 Western Avenue reading a book I'd borrowed from a friend.

Meanwhile, in California, a college friend was reading the same book. In Greece a cousin was beginning it. In New York a section leader had just put it down.

Harvard's real common ground this summer--the story that spanned major, gender, age and summer job--was not public service, activism, the Internet, the presidential election, or cell phones. It was Harry Potter.

My friends look up from The Goblet of Fire to report that Harry Potter is an escape: a nice easy read, a page-turner, a no-brainer. But the statistics point to something larger. Fox News reports that 43% of the Harry Potter books sold were bought by people over 14 who were not buying the books for a child.

It's more than escapism, trickle-up reading or a return to childhood: Harry Potter is the new mythology, a mythology that resonates strongly with Harvard students.

Harry's story speaks first and foremost to a feeling most of us swoon at: the feeling of being deliberately, carefully, and specially chosen. Though he hadn't known it, Harry was destined to be a wizard--he had the mark of greatness on him. It just took someone with the right eyes to see it.

It began simply enough. After years of life in a Muggle (non-wizard) family, being made to feel quite uninteresting and ordinary, Harry received a mysterious letter admitting him to the study of high magic at Hogwarts, a kind of boarding school. Though surprised at his own admission, once at Hogwarts, Harry learned that other kids--the legacies--have looked forward to coming their whole lives.

Sound familiar?