  Alright, so I was wrong about The Order of the Phoneix coming out on Friday. This actually made me feel better about myself. It confirmed that I was not a total dork, I didn't even know the correct release date. This feeling was fleating, however, because I went to the Midnight Release "party" at the bookstore. Okay, so I knew I was getting into trouble when I went to a book-release party. The perhaps sadder fact is that there are many other books that I dream would have midnight release parties.
And at these, instead of wearing Wizard hats and carrying wands, people could come dressed as bitter Hitlers or distraught Mary Todd Lincolns or even enderaingly suicidal New York essay writers. There were three kinds of people in Hastings on Friday night. One group were droppy-eyed adults, some dressed in pajama bottoms and most carrying Grande sized coffees. These were obviously the parents of Harry Potter fans, sent by anxious eleven-year-olds to pick up a copy. Another group were the flamboyantly-aved HP fans. They ranged in age from about thirteen to, sadly, forty. These fans could be seen entering their names in raffles for the promotion posters, Harry cuttouts and bookmarks; all equally open about their love of the Magic world. On occassion they could be heard referring to the others in the store as Muggles, and talking about flying off into the night on their Firebolts. I belonged to the third group, the people there that were hiding thier faces. The fans-in-the-closet.
I was trying, without aveil, to distract attention from the fact that I am a fifteen-year-old girl who wanted nothing more than to get the first possible copy of a children's book on her Friday night. The book is eight hundred and seventy pages. This fact alone makes me love JK Rowling. Only a fellow nerd would write such a lengthy tale, and therefore I feel a strong bond with the British Billionaire.
I am ashamed to admit I am not yet finsihed with the book. I've been trying to soak in every detail and every posssible foreshadowing for the next two books. I breifly considered taking notes; but the dork level would then be taken to the umpth-degree. I perfer to stay somewhere between manic overachiever and OCD, though it requires much discretion on my part. Affectionatelty... Anna the Dork 
