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“A poppet looks like a doll but is filled with magic.”

“Oh, it’s not meant as an offense, poppet. Beautiful ladies are always associated with the Crown Prince—you should be flattered that you’re attractive enough to be considered his lover.”

Oh, yes: The house’s proprietor is a retired dollmaker, whose magnum opus is the titular, ­demented-looking poppet — one you wouldn’t expect to see on any sane person’s bookshelf, let alone in the toy aisle.

By the time we reached book four, Goblet of Fire, we were seeing do-gooding Hermione’s Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare formed in response to the bond slavery of these sock-loving poppets.

“No, that it isn’t my poppet” cried his nurse, getting crosser and showing signs of slapping him.