Once A Wizard, Always A Wizard

It doesn’t matter how often ABC Family runs their Harry Potter Weekend movie marathon, I’ll watch it each and every time. It’s true, the little love I have within my black Grinch heart will always be reserved for J. K. Rowling’s series. As a 90s kids, it’s been a soft spot ever since Mama Marti used to read the books aloud to me and my brother before bed and taught us how to properly pronounce Hermione’s name (although the peasants in my second grade class never believed me… such Americans, am I right?).

Fast forward to May 2013 and my childhood dreams were finally coming true. After picking up takeaway from my latest London lunch obsession, Nando’s, I rode the tube over to King’s Cross Station and met Jules at the Hertfordshire platform. (Do I sound British yet? No? Okay.)

We squeezed onto a shuttle all the way to the Harry Potter Studio Tour in Watford, a borough of Hertfordshire. Once there, we were directed to a tour group led by a guy around our age – clearly muggle – who was obviously not prepared for our high yet completely necessary level of enthusiasm. “Who wants to open the door to the Great Hall?” he said in a voice that was as close as you could get to ‘giddy’ for someone who asked mindless tourists the same line a thousand times a day. It was entirely possible I kicked a toddler out of the way to volunteer – and by “volunteer” I mean “marched up and flung both doors open without a second of hesitation.” Know your place, children.

For me and Jules, the tour was a mix of turning every possible moment into a shameless opportunity for selfies and drilling out the answers for trivia before the other tour-goers could even say remembrall… “What’s the Mirror of Erised spelled backwards?” Desire. NEXT. Naturally, my favorite part of the tour was the outdoor food area, and naturally, the gentleman who worked there was yet another Brit who didn’t seem to appreciate my colorful (as my 8th grade English teacher would say) sense of humor.

“How many Butterbeers will it be?”

“Butterbeer is a little weak for my liking. You blokes got any Fire Whiskey back there?”

Unfortunately, my request was denied due to something involving a ‘no alcohol consumption’ rule. Never one to be discouraged, I tried a different angle and offered to throw in a few extra pounds for “Butterbeer with an extra kick.” Again, that elusive no-drinking-on-the-premises thing.

In the end, I settled for the family-friendly, butterscotch-flavored beverage and made a mental note to start stuffing my pockets with miniature bottles of Baileys like my dad used to do every time we had school fundraisers. Overall, it was a solid day!