I was in middle school and my hair was long and scraggly, buried under blankets in the wee hours of the morning, glued to the pages of "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows." Until this point, I had been crying soft, happy tears symbolic of the end of arguably one of the happiest parts of my young life. My eyes reached the the end of the page where “all was well” was printed in black, finite letters.

Years later, my hair is shorter, my eyes a bit more tired looking (likely due to many sleepless nights spent reading), but my heart remains young and yearning for the magic I experienced when I was a kid. The moment I walked under the Hogsmeade sign and into the Wizarding World of Harry Potter, I was instantly transported to the first time I flipped through the pages of "Goblet of Fire" or to the time I cried at the Krikorian during "Half-Blood Prince." I got to relive the magic, but this time it wasn’t a book full of words now etched into my brain or a film that I have re-watched during ABC’s Harry Potter weekends. It was the thrill of walking through Hogwarts and discovering the magic myself — and it is something everyone should experience.

Get ready to shamelessly cast spells all throughout the park.

The first thing I got was my wand, so that I could perform magic and cast spells at every designated place — you know, so the Ministry of Magic doesn’t send you an angry letter. I planted myself, pointed my wand and yelled “Ventus” in my most commanding voice. The spell did not work and I stood there for several minutes attempting it only to be shown up by a small girl in a bright pink parka who skipped up to the window, performed the charm and danced away all while also drinking a Butterbeer. A kind wizard who worked there had to help me and then I was a professional the rest of the day. People of all ages lined up to cast spells and laugh at their failures, leaving large crowds to cheer at their success and encourage them when they still couldn’t get it on their fifth try, something I had not experienced many other places. The wizarding community is arguably one of the nicest ever.

You are required to dress in your house colors.

I took the sorting hat quiz online multiple times in the hopes I might be a Slytherin, but was always met with a yellow badger on the page. I am Hufflepuff and, honestly, pretty amped about it now that I have experienced how excited others got when they saw me in my yellow and black scarf. It was difficult to decipher who worked at the park and who was just there to visit considering there were so many people donning robes and sweaters, walking in small packs with their housemates. Everywhere I looked I saw a Gryffindor in a red tie or a Ravenclaw with a sweater bearing the embroidered letters of their house name. I was instantly self-conscious of my muggle clothing and opted for a sweatshirt as well. Everything was a little on the pricy side and I suddenly understood why Ron Weasley’s family always complained about money.

It didn’t feel like a regular theme park.

The design of each store and the way Hogsmeade curved to give the illusion that it was much bigger than it was really took me out of sunny Southern California and into hidden streets in magical London. Hogwarts’ castle could not have been more perfect and everything was made to be exceptionally authentic, down to Moaning Myrtle crying in the bathroom. There were cauldrons stacked in alleyways, “poop” on the ground of the owlery, Buckbeak curled up outside of Hagrid’s hut and piles of books and packages crowding the tops of each store. I saw Gilderoy Lockhart smile and wave at me from a picture frame, Hermione’s ruffled pink dress float in a window and had John Williams’ score blaring as I wandered the streets. I forgot that just outside these walls was a world of stress, and that maybe magic was real.

I felt the way I did after I closed the cover of the last book — the way I was after the credits rolled on the last movie — I fell in love again with a fictional world and was saddened by it being over, but so thankful I got to experience that happy childhood memory and embrace it as an adult as well. All was well.