Observation has proved that Harry Potter must eat to survive.

Harry sat in the Great Hall. He was eating dinner that had been prepared for him by Dobby, of which Hermione protested constantly.

"Do you want me to put a sack on you and make you my slave?" she asked. "Actually, that would be pretty fun. Would you like to join S.P.E.W., Draco?" she said with a smile as Malfoy passed the table. "It's a non-profit organization that-"

"Bla bla bla, unimportant facts, bla bla bla. We've heard this before, Hermione," said Ron.

Harry sat quietly, eating a salmon and listening as Hermione talked. Yes, he understood her point, but it really got annoying after a while.

"And there should be a law protecting-"

"Oh, who cares?" exclaimed Ron. "The chances of house-elves getting paid for work is as likely as Harry dying right next to me in the middle of the Great Hall while eating fish!"

Harry suddenly started cramping up. His breathing slowed down, until it finally stopped, and he fell onto the floor, lifeless.

"Salmonella," Hermione diagnosed. "You jinxed him, Ron!