“Pleasant, isn’t it?” said one of the blue Dragons.
“Not at all,” snapped Harry.
“That’s your bad taste,” snapped the blue Dragon.
“No, it’s not!” snapped Harry.
“Then it’s pride and perverseness. You want your hair combing.”
“Oh, please don’t!” shrieked Harry, forgetting himself. On which the Dragon clawed a handful of hair out of his head, and Harry screamed, and the blue Dragons barked and danced.
“That made your hair curl, didn’t it?” asked another Dragon, leaping over Harry.
“That’s no business of yours,” Harry snapped, as well as he could for crying.
“It’s more my pleasure than business,” retorted the Dragon.
“Keep it to yourself, then,” snapped Harry.