I know the secret of the Deathly Hallows and I’m not telling.
Today, I read Harry Potter and the Death Hallows from beginning to end. I started around 1 am, fell asleep at three, woke up – read. Took a shower – read – and by 7:30 p.m. I knew the fate of You-know-who, countless Death Eaters, Muggles, centaurs, goblins, snakes, werewolves, Ministry of Magic whosie-whatsits, owls, house-elves, Harry Potter and all his little friends.
Not that I’m going to tell you lot.
When I finally ventured out into the universe (otherwise known as the grocery store) I felt a lot like I did after finally having sexy-time for the first time. Like I knew something both wonderful and ordinary – something that was completely mine, but totally familiar to everyone else. In that way – in the way that connects us all to both the magical and the ordinary – the Harry Potter books are a lot like getting it on.
Or something. I’m out of it, what do you expect, I’ve been reading all day.
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Finally having sexy time. Nice.
So does Harry get laid in this book? That’s all I want to know.
He kind of does, actually.