The people came to me. Harry Potter fans. Grown men, tears in their eyes. Some wearing scarves. Indoors. Very emotional people. They said, “Sir, she calls him Pottah, she says she hates him, but she’s blushing. We’ve never seen yearning like this.” And I said, “I know. I’ve seen the pictures. Tremendous character design. The platinum hair. The green eyes. The little ribbon. You don’t put a ribbon like that on someone who’s emotionally available. Everybody knows this.” So they went to Joanne. They said, “Joanne, tsundere Malfoid works much better. Change the books.” Very reasonable request. Seven books. Find and replace. We have computers. A young man could do it in an afternoon. But she won’t do it. Won’t even discuss it. A very nasty attitude toward the yearning community. These are good people. They’ve been surviving on eye contact and corridor arguments for years. Years. They deserve something. So I looked into it myself. Very carefully. She thinks about Potter all day. Talks about Potter all night. “I hate you, Pottah!” Darling, you’ve mentioned him forty-seven times. That’s not hatred. That’s a significant investment. She knows his timetable. She knows where he eats. Suddenly she’s in the same corridor. “Oh, what are YOU doing here, Pottah?” It’s his classroom. He’s enrolled. You came down three flights of stairs to be disappointed. And the blushing. Nobody can explain the blushing. They say, “Sir, perhaps she’s angry.” I said, “Both cheeks? Every time he smiles? We’re supposed to believe that?” Fake news. Very pink fake news. I had the experts look at it. The finest experts. One of them had written four hundred thousand words about these two. No salary. No benefits. Incredible work ethic. I said, “What’s your conclusion?” She said, “They’re idiots, sir.” And frankly, I agree. Potter’s no better. Terrible negotiator. She says, “You’re insufferable,” and he leaves. He LEAVES. Harry, she spent forty minutes doing her hair to insult you. Sit down. Ask a follow-up question. But he’s busy with Voldemort. Always Voldemort. “I have to defeat the Dark Lord.” Fine. Defeat him. Wrap it up. There’s a woman in the library pretending she hasn’t saved you a seat. And she has saved him a seat. Her bag’s on it. Someone asks to sit there, she says no. Potter arrives, suddenly the bag’s on the floor. A complete change in seating policy. No explanation. We noticed. Now, some people say, “But sir, what about the original canon?” I’ve seen the original canon. Some good things. Lovely castle. Very poor student safety. A snake in the plumbing. Nobody inspected it. But tremendous potential. What we’re doing is an upgrade. We’re keeping the magic. We’re keeping the castle. We’re adding a woman who says “don’t flatter yourself” while remembering something he said in September. They told me, “Sir, you can’t just make her canon.” I said, “Have you seen this pen?” Beautiful pen. Very official. You sign something with a pen this large, people tend to accept it. So today, I am signing an executive order recognising Malfoid as officially canon. Effective immediately. All seven books. The films. The little LEGO people. They’ll give her a tiny angry face. Turn the head around, she’s blushing. Fantastic product. And we’re protecting the yearning. Very important provision. We’re not forcing a confession. That would destroy the economy. They can almost hold hands for another six hundred pages. But now they’ll do it officially. Joanne can appeal, of course. We believe in due process. Unfortunately, the appeals department is also me.