“HARRY MY BOY, I FUCKED UP. NO, NO, CALM DOWN, IT’S NOT DOBBY THIS TIME! THE LITTLE WRETCH IS COMPLETELY UNHARMED, HE’S VACUUMING THE CEILING OR WHATEVER IT IS HE DOES WHEN HE’S NOT WEEPING IN THE CORNER! THIS IS CATASTROPHIC ON A COSMIC SCALE, HARRY! A COMPLETE AND UTTER MAGICAL AND PSYCHOLOGICAL COLLAPSE! I SHOWED MALFOID HER TRENDING ON TWITTER! HARRY, LISTEN TO ME CAREFULLY: SHE’S BEEN DOWN IN THE POTION ROOM FOR FOUR SOLID HOURS! NO BLINKING! NO MOVING! NO CASTING UNFORGIVABLE CURSES! JUST SITTING MOTIONLESS ON AN OVERTURNED SILVER CAULDRON, STARING DIRECTLY AT A DAMP SLAB OF COLD BRICK WALL LIKE AN EXHAUSTED VICTORIAN ORPHAN WHO JUST WATCHED AN AUTOMOBILE EXPLODE! SHE KNOWS, HARRY! SHE KNOWS PEOPLE FIND HER CUTE! HER ARISTOCRATIC, PUREBLOOD SUPREMACY HAS COLLIDED HEAD-ON AT TERMINAL VELOCITY WITH THREE HUNDRED THOUSAND UNHINGED MUGGLE TEENAGERS WITH ANIME AVATARS, AND THE SHEAR FORCE HAS COMPLETELY LIQUEFIED HER ENTIRE CENTRAL NERVOUS SYSTEM! SHE READ THE REPLIES, HARRY! SHE READ THE QUOTE TWEETS! SHE SAW HUNDREDS OF FANCAMS OF HER SCOWLING IN THE RAIN SET TO BRAZILIAN PHONK MUSIC WITH CAPTIONS LIKE ‘GOD FORBID A TOXIC BLONDE HAS HOBBIES’ AND ‘SHE CAN RUIN MY LIFE HONESTLY’! SOME ACCOUNT WITH A BLUE CHECKMARK TWEETED ‘MALFOID IS PEAK ANGRY TSUNDERE FERRET WAIFU’ AND HER ENTIRE ANCESTRAL PEDIGREE IMMEDIATELY COLLAPSED IN ON ITSELF LIKE A DYING STAR! SHE’S NEARLY COMATOSE, HARRY! THE HEIR TO THE ANCIENT AND NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK, REDUCED TO A CATATONIC VEGETABLE OVER A THREE-HUNDRED-TWEET THREAD DEBATING WHETHER HER FOREHEAD VEIN IS ‘HIGHKEY SUBMISSIVE’! I PANICKED, HARRY! I DESPERATELY TRIED TO REBOOT HER SYSTEM WITH FAMILIAR STIMULI! I TRIED CHOKING DOBBY RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER FACE! I GRABBED HIM BY HIS LITTLE GREASY PILLOWCASE, HOISTED HIM THREE FEET INTO THE AIR, GAVE HIM A VIGOROUS, RHYTHMIC, THERAPEUTIC THROTTLING, AND SCREAMED, ‘LOOK, DRACO! SYSTEMIC CLASS OPPRESSION! AN INFERIOR CREATURE SUFFERING WITHOUT DUE PROCESS!’ BUT SHE DID NOT EVEN LAUGH! NOT A GIGGLE! NOT A SNEER! HER PUPILS DIDN’T EVEN DILATE! DOBBY WAS WHEEZING FOR MERCY, I WAS SWEATING DIRECTLY INTO MY BEARD, AND SHE JUST SAT THERE IN THE GLOOM, CLUTCHING A CRACKED IPHONE WITH BOTH TREMBLING HANDS, SLOWLY WHISPERING INTO THE VOID: ‘WHAT IS A GYATT, POTTER? WHY DO SIXTY THOUSAND PEOPLE WANT ME TO STEP ON THEM? IS THIS AN UNFORGIVABLE CURSE?’ HURRY, HARRY! HURRY, FUCKING HURRY! BEFORE EVERY NOBLE HOUSE AND THE ENTIRE MINISTRY OF MAGIC ARE DIRECTLY UP MY ARSE! LUCIUS IS ALREADY SUMMONING THE WIZENGAMOT! FUDGE IS TYPING AN OFFICIAL DECREE! THE SACRED TWENTY-EIGHT ARE MOBILIZING THEIR HITWIZARDS BECAUSE THEIR GOLDEN HEIRESS HAS BEEN TURNED INTO A LOW-RES LOOPING TIKTOK SOUNDBYTE! RUN DOWN TO THE DUNGEONS THIS INSTANT AND FIX HER, HARRY! MOVE YOUR LEGS BEFORE THEY DRAG MY ANCIENT BEARD TO AZKABAN! HURRY, FUCKING HURRY!” "100000 GAJILION TO GRIFFINDOR"