Arrick entered the room and froze in his tracks.
The cornish pixies all stopped whatever they were doing and stared at him.
Then, Arrick promptly lost his head.
He first attempted to flee the way he came, but found the door was now locked. The pixies in the meantime had realized what fun this was going to be and had scattered in different directions, one of them advancing on Arrick, eager to pull a tuft of his flaming ginger hair.
Arrick screamed (later on he would insist that he did NOT, in fact, scream, but hollered a warcry), drew his wand--and thrust it up the pixie's nose. The pixie screamed, Arrick screamed, they all screamed for ice-cream.
As the pixie retreated with a bloody nose, the others started pelting Arrick with everything they could get their hands on. Hollering a dozen curses a boy of eleven should not know, Arrick sped out of the way and dove under a desk, hands over his head, as more debris rained down all around him. That each of the pixies was only a few inches shorter than scrawny little Arrick wasn't improving matters much.
Just as he thought he might be safe, one snuck up from behind and caught him by an ankle and yanked him out from under the table, screaming bloody murder. The rest gleefully zipped over to accost him as well.
"LEGGO! LEGGO Y'BLOODY BLUE BRUTES! STUPID--BLUE--ODDPOCK--!!!"
Having quite forgotten he was in fact a wizard and was supposed to use magic, Arrick proceeded to kick, scratch, punch, bite, and bludgeon whatever bits of pixie he could reach with his wand. It was only when his stream of curses and repeated abuse caused his wand to emit pops and bangs that he remembered the wooden stick had a primary use.
"Petr--" whap. "Trificu--" tug, tug. "BLOODY HELL QUIT THAT YOU STUPID--!!"
A particularly vicious and lucky kick caught a pixie where its ribs would be. Winded, it disengaged and retreated behind a bookshelf to toss books at him. Still beset by far too many pixies, Arrick abandoned magic yet again in favor of picking up a book and lobbing it with all his might at one of them, missing spectacularly but offering a brief opening in which Arrick could blurt one of those stupidly long incantations.
"'TRIFICUSTOTALIS!" He didn't get it all right, but his wand's tempermental misfire knocked the pixie into a wall and bowled him head over heels onto his bum. The remaining pixies and the book-throwing pixie started giggling at him.
Oh, it was on.
"SHUT UP! SHUT UP SHUT UP! RRRRGH! STUPID--!!!" Arrick hadn't learned the wand movement for the Stunning Charm yet, but he remembered Professor Lawson had mentioned the incantation, and it was the shortest of all the ones he'd learned that class. "STUPIDIFY! STUPIDFY! STUPEFY!"
The last one worked, as a jet of red light blasted out the end of his wand and hit one of the laughing pixies. It fell out of the air in a heap, unconcious. Arrick was too angry to be surprised or even pleased at this, and immediately turned his wand on the other pixies, roaring the incantation at the top of his lungs. His aim could use work, but surely enough, one by one the pixies dropped like oversized flies.
When the door reopened, an irate, flame-eyed and utterly discheveled Arrick stormed out, looking murderous and an inch away from snapping his wand on his knee in fustration. He dealt Professor Lawson a particularly lethal glare and paused in his tracks to round on the (much) older and taller man.
"What the bloody hell was that?! Someone could've been HURT by them blasted blue imps, they could! It ern't RIGHT t'stick kids in dangerous places! You're BALMY, the whole lot o'you!"
With a final exclaimation of "Bloody balmy CLASS!", he threw his wand to the ground and stormed off without waiting for the Professor to react.
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