The Adventures of Harry Potter and Ron and Some Others

Chapter 5: A Tense Situation

Upon entering Dumbledark forest, Harry immediately regretted his decision to wear his Sunday best. He envied Hagrid’s tattered rags and Ron’s spandex, which allowed him to move freely as though he was wearing nothing at all. Harry pictured Ron wearing nothing at all and shuddered. He hurried to catch up to Hagrid, who was powering ahead.

Hagrid’s large stride distance covered six metres to Harry’s one, making Hagrid the faster of the two. Secretly, Harry wished HE was the faster of the two.

Harry looked up to regard the dark, twisted trees looming above. Their tangled branches intertwined with each other, forming strong wooden bonds which shut out any hint of sunlight from the sky above. It was impossible to tell night from day, though most of them knew it was still day, except for Ron who remarked that the last seven hours felt like five minutes and wondered if the forest had magical properties. The ground underfoot felt damp and earthy and other descriptive words.

“Oh dear,” squealed Malfoy, suddenly.

Hagrid, Harry and Ron turned to him, startled.

“What did you see!” demanded Hagrid, frantically looking around for any sign of impending centaur attack.

“There’s a dreadful amount of moss in this forest,” Malfoy was looking at the ground around his feet, “I’m deathly afraid of moss you know.”

“Moths?” said Ron. “Wot you afraid of them for? They can’t hurt you.”

“No. MOSS.” Corrected Malfoy.

“Moss? That’s even more pathetic then, innit.” Ron had a good laugh at Malfoy’s expense. “You’re just a miserable little pillington soaked, tit-headed pilchard.”

Malfoy began to cry.

“That’s enough Ron,” chided Harry, “Now look what you’ve gone and done. He’s crying.”

Malfoy slumped to his knees, his body wracked by the sobs of one cursed by a situation he is not equipped to handle. He threw his head back and screamed at the sky in tormented anguish.

“Jesus Christ. He’s flying off the handle!” Hagrid backed up a step or two, crushing some moss underfoot.

Harry Potter, being the only calm head in most tense situations, knew he would have to find a way of sedating Malfoy before the noise brought an army of the undead to their location. He would need to be diplomatic and persuasive so as not to hurt Malfoy’s tender pride.

Harry picked up a large tree branch and smashed Malfoy upside the head with it, cleanly knocking him unconscious.

“Hagrid, can you carry this whining little prat?”

Hagrid picked up Malfoy’s prone carcass and slung it over his shoulder. “Easy as carrying a bunch of wilted pansies,” he said, slyly insulting Malfoy by referring to him analogically as a pansy, (an especially timid species of flower).

They continued their journey into the heart of the forest.
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