[There's a snap of someone's fingers from down the hall, and whatever feathers have scattered in Harry's direction abruptly disappear. The source of said snap appears to be a middle-aged goth, wearing sunglasses indoors and carrying a box that indicates some kind of move is in progress (out of this building, as it happens, but that may be beside the point just now).]

Don't burn yourself out on this shit, kid. Not worth it.

[The pun may or may not be intentional.]