On fickle fondness, falling to pieces and Pottermore

I think, if you read this blog from start to finish, you would probably find that I have posted entries saying how much I love each one of the seven Harry Potter books in turn but, at some other date, have stated very strongly how much I hate every Harry Potter book in turn.

It's funny how much my opinion changes on some of these books each time I re-read them.

For example, I have just finished re-reading The Half-Blood Prince.  If memory serves, I have often said that this is one of my least-favourite of the seven. And yet, this time out, I really enjoyed it. It was a fun read and I found the trips into the various memories to learn about Voldemort's past very interesting this time around.

Strange. And now I'm on to The Deathly Hallows again. This, along with The Prisoner of Azkaban, has always been one of my favourites. I wonder if I'll like it as much upon this reading.

Another strange point: I find myself ridiculously proud of the fact that my copy of this long last novel, a hard cover copy no less, is starting to fall into pieces. I have actually read this book so many times that it's starting to fall apart. Wow. That's devotion.

And I've joined Pottermore finally. My Pottermore name is "Bloodquill 19500" so, if you enjoy reading this blog and are a member of J.K.'s site too, why not friend me? We can duel. I'm a terrible duellist so far so you'll earn your House many many points by taking me on.

Have I mentioned that I was sorted into Gryffindor on Pottermore? Have I said how proud that made me feel? Cool.