(If for some reason you have missed out on the glory that is the Harry Potter series, there are spoilers below, so beware!)

Nerd alert: I am the world’s biggest Harry Potter fan.  

 Alright, maybe not the biggest. But I’m definitely one of them. I’ve read every single book at least ten times, and watched the movies countless more. I take all the Buzzfeed quizzes, I follow J. K. Rowling on Twitter, and y’all, I have a (very active) Pottermore account. I was sorted into Hufflepuff, in case you wondered, and I’ve totally gained respect for the badgers. When the final movie came out, my friend Lauren, Hubby and I planned a party before the midnight premiere. We invited all our (nerdy) friends, decorated my house in Gryffindor colors, and made a feast worthy of Christmas in the Great Hall, complete with fondant golden snitches and butterbeer.  

 So imagine my delight when I hear that our local children’s museum’s annual fundraiser this year has a theme of my favorite childhood (life?) book series. I immediately went about recruiting friends, planning for a babysitter, and debating whether I would go with the suggested “spellbinding cocktail” attire or go straight for the dress robes. The chance to attend a real-life event based on the fantasy world in which I felt I could belong (I mean, did my Hogwarts letter get lost?!) was more exciting than I probably should admit. 

Naturally the evening was fabulous, with lots of friends, magic wands, House banners, firewhisky, and floating candles from the Great Hall. It was as if my childhood dream had come true. You see, I’ve grown up with Harry. I attended midnight book releases and movie premieres. I waited months (almost every time) for the next installment of the story, felt the exhilaration of nail-biting Quidditch matches, thrill of new love, and sadness of losing friends. I trembled in the graveyard when Cedric was killed and Voldemort came back. I wept uncontrollably  when Dumbledore died. I high-fived the nearest person when I read that Ron and Hermione finally got together. These characters feel like my friends. 

It may be a little ridiculous, but I think part of the reason I still love it all so much (aside from how obviously entertaining and endearing it is) may be that I’m hanging on to my childhood. I’m almost 30, I have three kids, I’ve been married for 6 years, and all of those things are so… adultish. But this piece of literature, this familiar world and enveloping story are all a huge part of my childhood, big enough to make me feel like I’m Harry’s age again whenever I lose myself in it. My excitement hasn’t faded with my knowledge of the ending. 

Any other HP fans? Or maybe you have another book or movie that you connect with your childhood? Tell me about it – I want to hear!