Well, it's here, and it's chunky, writes Richard Lea. Like everybody over eight at Herne Hill's Tales on Moon Lane bookshop, my first reflex was to flick directly to the back. 607 pages, though the print does look reassuringly big.
There were Dumbledores and Harrys, wands and potions, cupcakes and a magician bravely trying to hold back the tide of excited seven year olds. A young boy slumped against his father's knees. Some had been waiting since 11pm.
Sam White, six, had come across from Peckham. Like many of the younger children he wasn't going to start on Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince until the morning, but that when he started it would take him "however long the pages are".
"Strange to see so few older kids," one parent sighed, but then sure enough, at quarter to twelve the teenagers started to emerge.
Josh Ansell started reading Harry Potter when he was 10. Now 17, he's not sure how successful Harry's transformation from short trousers has been, hoping that he'll "get over himself and get a proper girlfriend" in book six.
As midnight approached the crowd around the magician receded, and the crowd around the door grew. Then squeals of excitement as a van drew up outside and the countdown began.
The doors were drawn back and a wave of young wizards crashed over the threshold. A boy made his way against the flow to find his father, and his father's credit card. "I've been in there for hours," he said.
"Look, we get a little bag too," said one teenager, surprised to find herself so excited.
They emerged, clutching the bag in one hand, holding onto Mum with the other. Bedtime reading is now mapped out for the foreseeable future. I caught the eye of one dad as he left. "607 pages. It's a life sentence," he said.
