EDINBURGH, Scotland—Move over, Ginny Weasley: Edinburgh is in love with The Boy Who Lived.

Some background: struggling writer J.K. Rowling arrives in 1990s Edinburgh as a single welfare mom, gets a Scottish Arts Council grant, ends up writing international sensation “Harry Potter.”  Edinburgh is UNESCO’s first City of Literature—“built on books,” the tour guide said, and Rowling seems to crown the heap.  (Robert Burns, Robert Louis Stevenson, Arthur Conan Doyle, J.M. Barrie, Ian Rankin and others have also called Edinburgh home.)

On my first morning here, a guide leading a tour of important 18th-century sites made three stops related to Harry Potter within the first 15 minutes.  He even offered one lucky tourist a sorting hat and a festive Gryffindor scarf.

Some of the city’s Potter pride, however, seems a bit of a stretch.  The stadium where a military band performs?  Clearly a major inspiration for Quidditch matches.  The private school, once for orphaned boys, where Rowling sent her daughter?  Obviously Hogwarts.

Practically every Edinburgh resident I encountered pointed the way to The Elephant House, a café that bills itself as the “birthplace of Harry Potter.”  Rowling wrote much of her first Potter book here, and fans from across the world make pilgrimages (for what it’s worth, the grilled salmon burger with avocado and aioli is magical).

Other little tidbits of Potter lore suffuse the city.  Thomas Riddell (eerily similar to Tom Riddle of “Harry Potter”) is buried down the street from The Elephant House.  Diehard fans may be intrigued to know that while writing the first book, Rowling may have frequented the Spoon café more often.  Professor McGonagall of Hogwarts bears the surname of a notoriously bad Edinburgh poet.

After a while, the Potter spell seems to work.  Wandering the wynds and closes (narrow alleyways) that dart between Edinburgh’s dark stone buildings, one begins to imagine oneself in Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade.  Just substitute a dram of whiskey for the butterbeer.