It was a moment of pure bliss standing in line to get a Hermione Granger wand at Harry Potter World in Universal Studios. 

“Are you sure you want it?” My father was faced toward the thousands of wands and he gave me a side eye of annoyance.

“Absolutely positive,” said my 5th-grade self, excitement fleeting through me. 

There was a line of about 20 people at Olivander’s Wands, standing to obtain a plastic 50-dollar replica of their favorite wand. The line was fairly short, but it seemed like it would take an eternity. It was just starting to get dark, and soon the castle would light up in a magical light show. On every ride I had gone on that day, I had cried happy tears just being on it. The line got shorter and shorter. People walked away with Harry’s wand, Voldamort’s wand, the most powerful wand of the three brothers, and finally, it was my turn. 

I had an obsession with Harry Potter for the entirety of 5th grade. All of my clothes had something with a Harry Potter theme. My favorite stuffed animal, Crookshank, was named after Hermine’s cat.

“Which wand would you like?” the wizard gestured to the many wands of all kinds behind him, a cheerful expression appeared on his face as if he had just drank a gallon of butterbeer.

“Hermoine’s wand please!” I Belted out, my eyes becoming blue ponds after a flood, but my mouth exposed my food chompers.

He handed me the wand and a tear escaped my eye like a prisoner escaping Azkaban. With the expression on his face as if he was experiencing slow wifi, my Dad handed over his credit card to pay the $50 for the piece of decorated plastic I held in my hands. As we walked away, I graciously thanked my dad and, with a stream flowing happily down my face, exclaimed, “Dad, this is the best day of my life!”