The ongoing film, print, and merchandizing phenomenon surrounding J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter series makes for a timely interrogation of medievalist, and particularly Arthurian, work. While many university scholars lament the dwindling attention and funds given to medievalist projects, the Middle Ages seems very much alive and well in its popular formations. Both youth and adult cultures are obsessed with the Middle Ages, even beyond the indication that we might perceive from the castle-inhabiting, wizarding narratives of Rowling that have made Harry Potter the best-selling series in publishing history. The fanaticism prompted and fueled by the Star Wars franchise and the Lord of the Rings film trilogy, the cult following of Monty Python and the Holy Grail and its recent re-vivication in the Broadway production of Spamalot, also provide obvious signs of the popularity of the Middle Ages in the contemporary imagination. But there are numerous others to be found in television advertising: IBM, the U.S. Marines, Capital One Credit Cards, and Jack-in-the-Box restaurants each use medieval, and specifically Arthurian, ad campaigns. An IBM commercial, in which a patient relays an Arthurian dream of pulling the sword from the stone to a Freudian psychoanalyst may be the most telling in terms of the location of our medievalist fantasies in our dreams of work, functionality, and computer-assisted productivity. For all its vast distance and cultural displacements, the Arthurian fiction fully inhabits our post-Freudian unconscious and reappears in our dreamwork as well as our enjoyments. Most pervasively, and most consistently, the Arthurian dream inhabits our childhood and the enjoyments we produce for our children. Lego, Playmobile, Playskool, and Barbie have elaborately developed medieval world-building products. With Playmobile one can choose a multi-unit, elaborate 'King's Castle,' or a Viking ship, and re-enact Danish raids on the Angles or the Norman conquest. Playmobile's miniature accessories, which include crossbows, longbows, quiver with removable arrows, frothing beer steins, various helmets (some with nose plates), shields, plate armor, and detachable facial hair, enable a wide variety of historical play. (My children use the 'Fairy Tale Castle,' which appears to be a semi-Restoration-cum-Cinderella affair, to represent the French and mock up the Hundred Years' War with the very English King's Castle noted above.) This is but one example. Children's culture is saturated with medieval dolls, toys, books and imaginative costume of all kinds and levels of elaborateness (take especial note of the Magic Cabin catalogue and its array of medieval dolls, dress, and equipment for Waldorf educational play). Perhaps most recently and potentially most importantly, the world of video gaming takes the re-vivication of the Middle Ages to its greatest possibilities. Operating beyond the annual 'Renaissance Faire' that might be close enough to attend or the 'Medieval Feast' theme restaurants at various tourist attractions we might visit, we are able to inhabit medieval worlds to the furthest extent that our digital imaginations can reach through games like Everquest and Final Fantasy. Where such virtual medievalism poses technological anxieties, we can always turn to the back of the latest airline shoppers' magazine to buy a letter opener in the form of Aragorn's reforged sword, Anduril. Should one want a full-sized replica, one need only get on the mailing list (or website) for 'Museum Replicas Limited,' 'a division of the Atlanta Cutlery Corporation.' The array of 'historically accurate, battle-ready swords, daggers, axes and helmets,' as advertised on the cover of catalog #83, allows for a grown-up, real time version of any kind of Playmobile universe (pirates, vikings, etc.) or full participation in the detailed Hollywood visualization of one's favorite medieval book. These adult devices are not very different from children's products. …