Yesterday I was warned to purchase some “trampled-to-death insurance” before last night’s Harry Potter midnight showing, but I wasn’t worried. I had a secret weapon. If any of these Potter nuts came within an inch I’d claim to know the ending of the seventh and final Harry Potter book and spoil it for them all. If they didn’t believe me … well, then just try and call my bluff.

Just in case, I packed mace.

See, these Potterheads are mad folk. They look like normal people. They talk like normal people. They could be your neighbors, family members, your co-workers. That’s right. Friendly ol’ Jim at the office who you play racquetball with every other Saturday. Potterhead. The really cool chick that works at Starbucks and who always gives you just enough mocha. Potterhead. They’re like pod people and with every publishing year, they multiply like sprinkled-on Gremlins. I should know, I’m part of the clan.

Yes, I’ve read all the books, seen all the movies and I am, in fact, a Potterhead (the first step is admission). I’m a low level PH, though. I’m not one of these off-the-rockers who dress up for the opening night midnight showings. I’ve seen these people. They’re like Trekkies, only younger (which just makes them all the more dangerous). When I went to Goblet of Fire‘s midnight opening, I actually watched a couple of level threes (the highest level) re-enact a wizard battle. They wore black cloaks and carried Toys ‘R Us wands. They made force fields and blasted each other with imaginary spells. I never thought I’d make it out alive. I texted friends and family, telling them I loved them. The end was surely near.

But there’s one thing that will settle a Potterhead, almost make them completely catatonic. It’s called the Warner Bros. logo; the mysterious power it weaves once it appears is the stuff of legend! The trick is the waiting before it shows up.

I drove to the local Muvico 14 and my forehead began to sweat. It was nearly a half-hour before showtime (some friends had already purchased tickets earlier in the day). I parked my car and took a look about. No lines of Potterheads waiting to get in. Hmmm. Strange. It was a beautiful night and with each step towards the theater, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was just the calm before the storm.

I walked in and everything looked tip-top. No weirdos. I asked to speak to the manager because I wanted to take a few pictures of the audience. That was a negative. No cameras in the theater. Something about a violation of rights and fears of copyright infringement. I’d need waivers signed, etc. Even when I flashed my Film.com badge they weren’t having it. “We would get sued and we’re not going to let you do that.” Right. Potterheads don’t even believe in lawsuits. Can you imagine a litigious Potter world? Hogwarts would go bankrupt in two hours, max. Defeated, I lowered my head and walked in to Auditorium 3 and …

No wands. No cloaks. No sorting hats. Just your average audience of mostly semi-rowdy teenagers. No ridiculous wizard battles. No face painting. No Hagrid look-alikes. Everything was completely … normal. It was the most bizarre experience I ever had walking into a Potter film.

Now there was one freak (I mean this kindly) in the audience and wouldn’t you know it, she sat right next to me. I’m guessing she was twelve years old or so and when the lights dimmed, she was doing the Abigail Breslin pee-pee dance from Little Miss Sunshine. You know, the one where she heard the message about the beauty pageant? She even looked like Abigail, only no glasses.

But even the Scrooge in me had to admit, it was nice. It was nice seeing how much the movie meant to her. The audience seemed to love the movie. They laughed a lot, clapped three or four times, but no one was more animated than the little Abigail girl next to me. Numerous times throughout the movie, she slapped her knees in anticipation of the next scene. You knew that she knew what was coming before it happened. Every passing frame was a turn of the page.

We like to make fun of fans like little Abigail, but she actually made me enjoy the movie more than I was expecting (and I was expecting a fine film). When the credits came up and the lights un-dimmed, she was bouncing about and talking about how she couldn’t wait to see it again, “And tomorrow, I’m wearing my cloak.” Ah-ha!

The Potter series may have grown up a little. Maybe not as many people are pretending to be wizards nowadays. Strangely, this made me a little sad. The fun is still there, the crowd is clearly still into it. But part of the fun of odd Potterhead behavior is that it is odd. Abigail is supposedly carrying the torch tomorrow. Maybe she’ll chicken out. Maybe her friends will make fun of her and she’ll leave the cloak at home.

These are dark spirits. Wear the cloak, Abigail. And have fun.

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Dre writes three times a week for Film.com. He carries a wand on the down-low. Email him!