Chapter Twenty Three

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Chapter Twenty Three - "Your sass is not appreciated."

All day long, the dwarves keep barging into our classes to deliver Valentines, to the annoyance of the teachers, and late this afternoon, as the Gryffindors are walking upstairs for Charms, one of them catches up with Harry.

"Oy, you! 'Arry Potter!" shouts a particularly grim-looking dwarf, elbowing people out of the way to get to Harry.

Glancing at the queue of first-years, which happens to include Ginny, Harry tried to escape, try being the important word. The dwarf, however, cuts his way through the crowd by kicking people's shins, including Maya's who swears, and reaches Harry before he's gone two paces.

"I've got a musical message to deliver to 'Arry Potter in person," he says, twanging his harp in a threatening sort of way.

"Not here," Harry hisses, trying to escape.

"Stay still!" grunts the dwarf, grabbing hold of Harry's bag and pulling him back.

"Let me go!" Harry snarls, tugging.

"Should we help?" Hermione asks.

"Nah, this is gold," I laugh, taking out my phone, and beginning to record it.

"You're a great friend," says Maya sarcastically.

"I know," I flip my hair over my shoulders.

With a loud ripping noise, Harry's bag splits in two. His books, wand, parchment and quill spills onto the floor and his ink bottle smashed over the lot.

This is why pens are the best.

Harry scrambles around, trying to pick it all up before the dwarf starts singing, causing a hold-up in the corridor.

"What's going on here?" comes the cold, drawling voice of Draco Malfoy. Harry starts stuffing everything feverishly into his ripped bag.

"What's all this commotion?" says another familiar voice, as Percy Weasley arrives.

"Isn't this just a bundle of laughs?" Elinor says, looking between Percy and Malfoy.

"Don't you mean a bundle of pricks? No offence Ron."

"None taken Emily. Percy is a prick."

Losing his head completely, Harry tries to make a run for it, but the dwarf seizes him around the knees and brings him crashing to the floor.

"Right," he says, sitting on Harry's ankles, "here is your singing Valentine:
His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,
His hair is as dark as a blackboard.
I wish he was mine, he's really divine,
The hero who conquered the Dark Lord."

Bursting into laughter, I lean against Hermione as Harry gets up, bright red from embarrassment. The rest of the corridor is in fits as well. Time for me to get rid of them.

"Right everyone, shove off, nothing more to see," I shout, pushing people away.

"Emily! Don't be so rude," Percy shouts at me.

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