Don't read any further if you are reading, or intending to read, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. I'll try not to give too much information away, but you can never be too careful...
Most seventeen year-olds have certain worries on their mind. Passing their driving test before their friends do, thinking about A-Levels, and finally getting the attention of someone who has been catching their eye since GCSEs.
So you can understand why Harry Potter is a bit peeved at having to root out a series of obscure objects containing fragments of the dark wizard Voldemort's soul and getting rid of them, not long after he comes of wizarding age.
These objects are known as Horcruxes, and indeed, are the crux of the first two thirds of JK Rowling's final outing for her junior wizard.
It's interesting to compare this 2007 text with the opening of the first Potter novel, The Philosopher's Stone, from 1997. The writing style, the tone, the level of maturity, the jump between the two is the same as, well, that of GCSE to A-Level.
Rowling has changed the format here. There is no seventh term at Hogwarts for Harry, Ron and Hermione. Instead they are living the fugitive life, staying away from Voldemort's army of Death Eaters while attempting to find the pieces of the twisted tyrant's soul and off them as soon as possible. That is not to say the loyal reader has seen the last of the school for witchraft and wizardry, as Hogwarts plays its own unforgettable role in the narrative.
There is so much plot to get through and so many loose ends trailed through six previous novels to meet their knotmaker here, it is a wonder Rowling still manages to maintain the realistic banter between the three best friends and the peculiarities of domestic situations, especially as the Weasleys prepare for a wedding.
They are young adults now, and written as such. Hermione may know how to skilfully apparate her way out of any situation, but she isn't ignorant of the hormonal surges in the air around the three of them.
But this is like talking too long about the excised talky scenes from The Exorcist, and not getting round to Regan's spider walk downstairs during a posh soiree, which was chopped from the final film.
What people really want to know is, does Harry make it to the end in one piece, and who makes it there with him?
Rowling has mentioned two deaths already, but the faithful Potter fan should brace themselves for more.
Two regulars meet their maker early on, and a number of those who have supported Team Gryffindor (and those who have not) either die a descriptive death on the page, or have their passing reported by reluctant messenger. It's another of Rowling's themes coming to the fore - as well as making the most of the chances you've been given, and taking the brave option when it would be so easy to slump off to a Bournemouth B&B for the weekend instead - these gambles don't always work out, and the cost to you and those you care about can be high.
Not a word is wasted as the action propels the story to the most fitting location where the Potter chronicles could reach their end, with a Greek chorus of the best-loved (and loathed) characters all getting a chance to shine. Such is the gravity of the situation, those right-on editors at Bloomsbury have even allowed a few naughty words to slip through to heighten the atmosphere.
The final 150 pages had me 'ooohing' and 'aahing' with abandon, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. My heart was racing faster than I could turn the pages. That JK is a clever one, planting enough hints about the plot in the pre-launch hype to make you wonder, 'could this be the moment when..?', 'is it going to be now that..?' at every other paragraph.
Once the 608th page has been read and digested, there is a sense of achievement about placing the final instalment of Potter back on the bedside table. It has taken seven books, not far off a million words and 17 years for JK Rowling to finally share all of her wizard with us, and hopefully the act of finishing it should leave younger readers eager to get the next Lemony Snicket or Philip Pullman off the shelf for another dose of that thing called imagination.
As for me, I'm finally going to treat myself to Roald Dahl's short stories anthology, as I'm in the mood for even more plot twists than you can shake a phoenix feather at.
And JK Rowling? Keep being nice to her. She's about to write the most difficult book of her career.
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