So. Order of the Phoenix.

[Spoiler-free. I think.]

The husband and I saw Phoenix on Monday, and now I'm re-reading the book again. It's only my third Potter book in as many weeks. I'm half shocked and half delighted to see myself spinning into full-bore fan-girl mode this way, of course. It happens so rarely for me: every 30 years or so. When I'm 75 I'm quite certain some bit of popular culture—something current—will catch my eye, and I'll obsess over it. For a year or so, I'll be hip. I'm counting on it, if you want to know the truth.

It's a difficult moment, though: my husband has seen The Order of the Phoenix, but has not read The Deathly Hallows. My mother has read The Deathly Hallows, but has not seen The Order of the Phoenix (we may attempt to catch it in 3D, if it's still around next week).

But of course from moment to moment I'm not sure what I should—or may—talk to either one of them about. I musn't say too much about Hallows around the house, or I'll ruin it for my husband. I musn't discuss the casting choices in Phoenix with my mother, or I won't get a fresh perspective on it when she does see the film.

These, of course, are high-quality problems. Unless I do let something slip.

I'm ready to call my stepmother, who has a theory about some exotic discontinuity she thinks she caught in Hallows, that she was bursting to tell me two weeks ago—before I'd read the thing. I mean, sure: I've found some tiny little irregularities, but that's to be expected. After all, I'm a freakin' fact-checker, and Rowling suspended this work over the course of seven gazillion-paged books. It would have been bizarre if I hadn't caught a tiny error or two. The stepmother theory is different, of course; she honestly thinks she's caught Rowling in a major inconsistency of characterization. Naturally, I'm dying to know what that might be.

[Spoilers permitted in the comments section, if necessary: Honey, don't read this thread all the way through.]