How to Make a Comic-Con Approved Harry Potter Nimbus 2000 Broom
I was 5 years old when Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone came out in November of 2001. It was the first time I can ever remember escaping into fantasy to avoid the things that were happening in my own life. Only 2 months before, my dad had barely made it out of the World Trade Center. He came home. But so many other people’s loved ones did not. There was a pall of grief over the nation, over New York, and over my household.
While I didn’t understand everything that was going on at the time, I could read the room. My dad, my larger than life hero, was devastated. He always knew how to make everything in life seem like an adventure for us. The most mundane things could become fantastical in his hands. Simply put, he made me believe in magic.
Fall has something inherently magical about it, and after months of feeling like Dad’s magic had vanished into thin air, we jumped at the offer to see this movie. I remember the drive to the theater, red and orange leaves still clinging thickly to the trees. I was sitting next to Dad sharing Sno-Caps. And then, suddenly, we were somewhere else.
Warner Bros.
It was a magic school hidden in Scotland that brought my father’s magic back.
Harry Potter sucked us both in, snacks forgotten on our laps. There was something in Harry’s perseverance, his hope, and his courage. We were swept away. When we got home, I immediately laid down on the couch and just stared up at the ceiling, my mind practically bursting with all the possibilities of that magical world. But the most magical thing was my father sitting down next to me and asking me if I had fun.
As I babbled on and on, practically talking at him, not to him, he just sat there patiently, interjecting to tease me a bit. It was the most he had smiled in awhile. Honestly, that made me love Harry Potter even more. It brought Dad’s magic back to his eyes, his smile, his laugh.
And from then on, he went with us to see every Harry Potter movie and sat through all my book summaries. He bought me Harry Potter Lego and t-shirts and novelty items, a Gryffindor tie I needed for a college Halloween party. He has sat through endless marathons, whether it’s Christmas time or not. He still sneers, “Give it here, Malfoy,” whenever he wants me to pass him something. No part of him will ever admit to liking Harry Potter, but that’s okay.
After all, Dad has just as much magic in him as a Nimbus 2000, and like the iconic broom, he’s always encouraging us to fly higher than ever before.
To give you a little bit of magic too, here’s some supplies you’ll need to get started on making your own broom:
