Molly's end of the Gryffindor table was mostly empty, which was probably a good thing. She'd wandered into the Great Hall earlier, muttering malevolently to herself and twitching slightly. Ever since
the popcorning of Jack Aubrey she had been, to put it delicately, having an Artistic Moment.
You probably scared him off, the Narrator said. You're not exactly the easiest person to be around.
"Shut up," she snapped, slurping at a cup of coffee. Jack had been her first real friend (and more than friend) here, and his loss had hit her hard. She'd kept a handle on things so far, but Molly didn't deal well with stress--she'd attacked an espresso machine and bitten through a guy's leg before she ever came here. It was only a matter of time before she cracked, and thanks to the Narrator, that time was likely going to be measured in minutes.
Why? You can't make me, moron--I'm here to stay, unlike Jack.
"I said SHUT UP!" Molly snarled, slamming her mug on the table hard enough to shatter it, sending fragments of porcelain flying. "Dammit, I do NOT NEED YOU RIGHT NOW, YOU ASS-TICK!"
Yep. Hear Molly's mind snap, crackle, and pop.
((Feel free to come harrass/watch/get beaten up by Crazy!Molly))