I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned this here, but I am a bit of a Harry Potter fan. I mean, I say "a bit of a fan" – my dog has a freaking Gryffindor scarf, for God’s sake. I think you can probably see where I’m coming from here.
I was not always a Harry Potter fan. I got into the series late, jumping on the bandwagon at Book 4, having previously assumed that, like most of the bandwagons I have known, it would be one of those things that the whole world unaccountably goes mad for, and I can’t stand. Like Princess Diana for instance, or Little Britain. God, I hate Little Britain.
Anyway, so I ignored the first three Harry Potter books, and would probably have continued to ignore them to this day (I can be quite dense like that, you see. That’s how I missed out on The Office when it was actually on TV, and then had to watch it all on DVD and then go around telling everybody about this absolutely hilarious new show I’d discovered, when they’d already seen it months ago.) had it not been for the fact that when Book 4, The Goblet of Fire, came out, the newspaper I was working for at the time was given a review copy.
Now, I love me some free stuff, so even although the paper didn’t actually have a books section, I immediately created one (It carried a total of two reviews, both of which were written by me) and carried home Harry Potter. The book, I mean. Not the boy wizard. That would just have been weird.
By the time I reached the end of the first chapter, I was hooked. I read it in two days, stopping only to, you know, go to work, and then, when I finally reached the end, I went out and bought the first three books, which I read back to back. Then I read book 4 again. Now, several years down the line, I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve read those books. Or, I could – but you would laugh. They’ve been my solace in times of stress, and have never failed to make me feel better. I have cried over some of the deaths and discussed the plot lines for hours with the many other Potter fans I know (I’m actually really put out that Erin is getting married tomorrow and won’t be available to discuss this one with me. How could she!). Yes, I got it bad.
So, as you can probably imagine, given that the last ever book comes out tonight at midnight, I’m a very excited Amber right now. And also: a rather melancholy Amber. Because, after this book, that’s it. No more Potter – perhaps literally, for all I know. Maybe she’ll kill him off? (Pleasedon’tletherkillhimoff). It’s a very emotional time all round, people. Tonight, Terry and I are heading down to Asda with parents and friends, to stand in our last-ever midnight Potter queue, and wait for the precious, precious book to be placed in our hands. I think I might cry. Then I’m going to come home and spend the entire weekend reading it. I can’t wait.
And Rubin is already wearing his scarf.