The moment that really upsets, however, is when Harry reaches into the box and pulls out the white chocolate. This is, in its way, tragically fitting because white chocolate, as chocolate bores often tell one, is not, technically speaking, chocolate at all. It contains cocoa butter but no cocoa solids. It is chocolate in name only, a ghastly, sickly sweet, simulacrum of the real thing. One could hardly design a better metaphor for the strange place Harry now occupies, still trading on the buttery residue of royal status while being entirely detached from the substance that once gave it meaning.