Disclaimer: references are made to David Yates' "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them."

Dreary: the sky was, the street was, everyone around me was dreary. I was driving out to the Montgomeryville movie theater to see a picture with a friend of mine. My friend told me he would meet me at the door. I arrived at the door. No friend. I bought my ticket and made my way into the theater. No friend. The movie was sold out, so there was no way we could sit together, unless if he arrived when he said he would. Oh well.

I chose a seat in the middle of the theater. I was in between depressed teen number one, hood up eyes glued on her purple phone, and social butterfly teen number two, so much makeup on a face constantly saying “I know right”. I wasn’t even too excited for the movie, heard it was a prequel. At best, I could review it for my blog. Odds are, I wouldn’t care to remember it.

Then the lights faded low, the previews ended, and an enormous crescendo of woodwinds horns and a choir flooded the theater as the screen almost burst from its title card "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them." There was a change in the winds. The depressed teen aligned her eyes upward, the social butterfly was silenced. Grandmothers in the back leaned in closer, children in the front sprang from their chairs, popcorn was put down, and no buzzing phone was acknowledged. All eyes forward, not because they had to be but because they desired to be.

A small creature resembling a black furred platypus dashed across the screen, and a chuckle rippled from the front row. The fuzzy little thing slowly turns and sees the face of his master chasing him. All the creature does is let out a tiny squeak, but the audience erupts with big embarrassing belly laughs. A woman waves a wand as a descending strudel in a beautifully flaky crust lands right at the head of a table, and “oohs” “ahs” wows” and “yums” swell in our crowd. Lightning flashes, wizards clash in combat, as yipps and gasps and “watch outs” crash forth from us.

We came together in this theater. We could go anywhere it would take us: high above skyscrapers, down below subway tunnels, deep inside magical gateways. We were free-spirited, and more than entertained. We fell in love with a story: a deep love nothing could break or tear us away from.

Soon our relationship would conclude. Our characters said their goodbyes, and we waved them off too. The credits rolled. First was silence. Then there was the sound of lips separating into smiles. From down in front of me was a clap, and then another and another and another and another as our hands raised in applause, thundering to the sky. Everyone laughing. Everyone astonished. Well done. Well done. J.K. Rowling, well done.

The lights faded up. I will never forget this film. It was original breathtaking and a delight. The social butterfly on my right was speechless. The depressed teen on my left was grinning. Eventually, I found my friend, and the two of us were glad we got tickets. We talked. Ours was a conversation about the "Fantastic Beasts" and how we had the treat of finding them. We walked. The two of us were on our way out the doors, and outside. The night was a bit nippy, but the sky was glowing. I felt bright. I was joyful. My heart was, my body was, and my mind was: Joyful.