Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix by J.K. Rowling

I first met Harry when I was ten years old and wide‑eyed. One year later I was convinced my Hogwarts letter was merely delayed when it did not arrive on my eleventh birthday. When I was thirteen my dad bought me Order of the Phoenix at the Notre Dame book store and I read it in the stands (to my father’s chagrin) while the Fighting Irish played against some lesser college football team. Twenty‑five years later,  it still holds up. It is easily my second‑favorite of the series. Rowling cranks everything up here: politics, prophecy, and downright nuclear teenage angst. For the first time we’re handed a panoramic view of the wizarding world—from the bureaucratic sludge of the Ministry to the unsettling comfort of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place—and it’s glorious.

What makes the book sing, though, is its unapologetically hormonal cast. Harry’s caps‑lock meltdowns, Ron and Hermione’s bickering (frienemies to lovers am I right?), Fred and George weaponizing fireworks against institutional evil; Rowling writes adolescents exactly as I remember being (minus the broomsticks, I too had earth-shattering mood swings). And then there’s Sirius Black: rebellious, doggedly loyal, and endearingly reckless. His presence teases Harry (and us) with the possibility of a real home, which makes his fall through the Veil feel like someone yanked the floor away mid‑stride. Reading that at thirteen was gut‑punching sorrow; rereading in my thirties, after real‑world grief, it stings in a new way… a more grown-up way.

The supporting cast steps out of the background in a new way, too. Neville’s courage, Luna’s oddities, even Umbridge’s bubble‑gum-colored-evil-toad-face-make-me-want-to-coupe-la-tête tyranny add layers the early books only hinted at. This is why Order of the Phoenix stands just a nose behind my forever‑favorite: Prisoner of Azkaban. Where Azkaban sidesteps Voldemort to indulge in time‑turners and Marauder lore, Order dives straight into resistance, grief, and the awful cost of standing apart.

Now I’m reading it aloud to my daughter (she’s nearly the same age I was when I first read this book) and every chapter reminds me why this series carved out permanent real estate in my life. Order of the Phoenix balances teenage drama with epic stakes, shows that rebellion can be both righteous and messy, and proves that the loss of one fierce godfather can echo louder than any prophecy. 

Five out of five stars, and still powerful enough to make me cry during every re-read.