While lounging on my futon with my three other roommates watching yet another Harry Potter weekend on ABC Family we discussed what exactly it was that drew us to the movies in the first place. Our initial conclusion was that since we and Harry were always the same age growing up we felt like we could relate to him and just as easily have been the child taken out of the cupboard on 4 Privot Drive. That’s when we realized what it was that kept us reading each progressively heavier novel until the very end, the small glimmer of hope that we ourselves could be whisked off to a land far, far away. When you’re growing up there’s so much magic out there from Santa Clause to the tooth fairy that you’re given a false sense of hope that it could all be real. Yet even as an adult I still love the idea of magic, it just seems to take on different forms. Twlight, True Blood and Vampire Dairies clearly confirm that creatures, demons and magic aren’t just for kids. Even the most recent Harry Potter movie had the biggest opening yet, further proving that magic doesn’t disappear with age. But at what point do we need to stop and except our reality?