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Verity Doran

Sworn to be peas

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Verity Doran

Verity climbed up onto the Gryffindor table, pail of raw peas in hand.  Where had she found raw peas at this hour?  Who even knew.  Magic schools were weird.  She shoved her hand into the pail, scooped a whole bunch of peas into her palm, and shoved them into her face like her life depended on it.  Once her cheeks were all puffed out like a pea-loving chipmunk’s, Verity took a deep breath and began to, uh… ‘sing.’

 

“Sinneeeee Fiannaaaaa Fáil!!!”  A few peas flew out, but she pressed on.  “Atá faoi gheallllllll ag Éireannnnnn.”  More peas.  Just peas everywhere.  So many peas.  Because people should give peas a chance.  But not these ones, cause they had been in Verity’s mouth and that was gross.

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