MUGGLELAND-- I can't wait for the release of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows...just so that I can reveal the ending of the book to anyone and everyone I know. Mwahahahaha! Call me a sick, demented Death Eater, but I will take great pleasure in spoiling the finale to all the people in which I come in contact.

I am so prepared to let loose the conclusion of this seven book series about the little lightning-scarred wizard, that I will camp outside of my local bookstore in order to be one of the first customers in line to receive a copy of the much-hyped fantasy novel...then go to the last few pages and shout out its contents.

Why, Oh Why?! I tell you, I just don't have any sympathy for the broomstick-lovers who live and breathe Harry Potter.

Yes, people might wish to call me bad names for blurting out the much-anticipated ending of this 7-book tale; they might even curse me with Avada Kedavras, or try to send me away with banishing charms, but I'll still have the perverted satisfaction of spilling the magic beans as to the final outcome of J.K. Rowlings enchanted adventure.

Why would I do it? Why would I take away the mystique, the adventure, the years of anticipation? What type of sick person must I be for wanting to be a spoiler more fould than Hagrid's unwashed socks?

Just ask the ten-year-old boy who waited in line for hours outside of a movie cinema back in 1980, when an uncaring, unfeeling bastard shouted out to the excited crowd: "Darth Vader is Luke Skywalker's father!"