"If he likes it not, we will return it," Harry says with a shrug.

He wanders over to contemplate one of the tapestries: a unicorn curled demurely in a lush, Edenic garden. They are neither of them very tall, and the tapestry... is. Because he is such a delicate, cautious sort of person, Harry grabs hold of the bottom and gives it a sharp yank. This does work, though it tears two short lines into the top of the fabric, from the nails that held it to the wall.