I returned home at 12.30 yesterday afternoon, bags full of groceries and my shiny new book, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. For some reason, I found other things to do instead of read. I even picked up my room! Sheesh, what was wrong with me? Anyway, I finally picked it up a little after four.
The beginning was kind of dull; that wasn't too much surprise though. I noticed upon the re-readings that they all took a few chapters to get off the ground. Sure enough, two hours later I was nearly a third through already. But I went to my friend's and to a movie, then staying up until about 1am. This book has the fun teenage stuff; the irritating teenage stuff from #5 was done with, thank god. That kept me up thinking and not sleeping for a good hour and a half, but I was resolute not to pick the book back up in the middle of the night.
This morning I was up early, but I was a good girl. After a shower, and a start to laundry, I nearly completed one of the two papers that are due on Tuesday. Then I watched some television, drawing out the time when the book would once again become my sole focus.
I finished reading the book at 5.30: a mere twenty-five-hour span of time! And with all the distractions and sleeping and stuff. I was sure I'd be able to draw it out more than that. Although I did read the 800+ page Goblet of Fire in two days....
Anyway, this one is only (!) 600-some pages, but wow, goddamn they sure pack a wallop. The end got me weepy, as they all have...and that's all I'm going to say. But part of me is dying to talk to people about it, figure out what the seventh might hold in store for us, and the utterly sad truth that that seventh book will force us all to say goodbye to that rich and fascinating world that I, at this point, can hardly tell apart from the real one.