The Harry Potter Dream

I read all the books, watched all the movies and now I was living the 21st century  Wizarding World of Harry Potter dream. I was delighted that I could laugh at the wonder of audio animatronics (aka robots, to those of us over 60): the elves at Gringott’s Bank were amazing; the toy snakes and owls, that could look and move as realistically as their real life counterparts; the magic mirror that could answer specific questions; the three storey high dragon that spewed flames; the magical knitting needles; the self-stirring cauldrons; and especially the signs, proclaiming Ollivanders - Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC, Mrs. Skower’s Magical Mess Remover, the Society for the Reformation of Hags, House-Elf Placement Agency. Inside this little old lady still beats a young girl’s heart that fills with mirth and joy. 

I was giddy with delight over the craftmanship involved with the settings, but every so often I was disappointed with myself when I realized that while I was thoroughly enjoying the street shops and rides I found myself analyzing how the special effects were created. What is wrong with me. Reality ought not to rear its ugly head in the midst of all this imagination. At Kings Cross station 9-3/4 a hologram accomplished the effect of running through the wall. The interactive wand, that allowed muggles to perform magical feats, relied on hidden laser beams. I had to stop myself. 

By the way, am I the last person in the world to realize that Diagon Alley is Rowling’s spelling of diagonally. What else don’t I know. I may have to read those books again.  

While we wandered around, I remembered times, long ago, attending the annual summer fair. We were overjoyed at the exotic taste of cotton candy and caramel popcorn. Was there anything to rival the taste of funnel cakes. Here, we imbibed in warm butter beer at the Leaky Cauldron. The heady aroma of butterscotch was intoxicating, albeit it would have been even more perfectly intoxicating with an adult dose of rum (just an observation). We partook of the exploding bonbons and purchased a package of Bertie Bott’s all flavor jelly beans, although I’m still nervous to try one, recalling Dumbledore’s experiences with flavors that included earwax and snot. 

We were charmed by the young boys and girls who were carrying magic wands and wearing black hooded robes, like Harry and Hermione wore at school, but it was creepy to see young male adults wearing them. The cutoff age ought to be ten, no good could come of 20 year old males wearing those robes; even Harry left school and put the robes away before age 18. 

When a visit to the ladies room was warranted, we listened to Moaning Myrtle, which made the time waiting a complete delight, not to mention, speaking of moaning, relief after the long line to enter. 

Last, in the land of Spanish moss, we learned that Spanish moss is neither Spanish nor moss. Instead, it is an air fern that carries jigger bugs, essentially tiny sand fleas. In the interest of recycling, Henry Ford thought the moss could be used as padding in car seats in lieu of horse hair, not knowing that the moss carried those tiny biting bugs. It was the first car recall in history.