Telephone

He eyed the object warily. There it sat, seemingly innocent. Ha! He might have belieed that two days ago, but he knew better. It was just waiting to catch him off guard, but he was ready. He would hardly be outsmarted by a machine, a muggle machine at that.

He approached it, still watching it carefully. He got close enough without attacking, a victory in itself. By now he was less than three feet from it. He knew he had to be quick now. He raised the flowerpot over his head.

BRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!!!!!

He dropped the plant and it landed painfully on his toe. He swore loudly, but the feletone still rang over it. It stopped long enough for him to pick up the pot again and, not taking any pauses, toss it at the phone, which started to scream again a fraction of a second before it got knocked off of it's perch. It fell to the floor with a feeble beep. He basked in his victory for a calm moment before a voice came from it.

"Hello Ron?"

Harry. It was odd guilt. He knew it hadn't been Harry he'd knocked over the head with a lump of heavy clay and soil, but at the same time, Harry had been the one tormenting him by making that blasted thing scream all the time. As if it wasn't enough, another voice came from the door, speaking in a deep Irish borough.

"Ron? Did you attack me mum's phone again?"