CHAPTER NINE: SUFFERING PEOPLE
Prof. McGonagall gave us all a notice.
As she gave them to each of us, she explained, “Please make sure that your parents can at least find a time to attend this Wednesday evening’s PTA meeting.”
But Prof. McGonagall treats me real nice. She told me, “I know your mother is busy selling her waffles, Ronald. She can be exempted.”
So I folded the notice and put it into my bag.
On Thursday, when Mother checked my bag and found the notice, she said angrily, “Why didn’t you tell me that there’s a PTA meeting yesterday?”
I replied, “The professor said you don’t have to go. Besides there were a lot of parents arguing. It was so friggin’ noisy, you’d be glad you didn’t go.”
Just the thought about yesterday made me quite afraid.
There were a lot of parents in school yesterday. They flipped through our books and exam papers and were standing around Prof. McGonagall chitchatting. I was going back and forth getting water for them to drink. Harry Scarface’s godfathers were there too—one who looked very handsome with long hair tied into a ponytail and another with dark brown hair and was wearing something that looked like it was bought from a flea market.
Then there came a father who smelt rather strong of the perfume Father wore. He was Draco’s father. He wore a very well ironed suit and a pair of shiny shoes, with a black cane to match, and didn’t want to sit on our chair. Prof. McGonagall told me to wipe the chair clean and asked him to sit down.
Draco was at the corridor playing ball and didn’t dare to come in. Mr. Malfoy said, “My boy Draco is a little arrogant and likes to have things his own way.”
Prof. McGonagall nodded.
Mr. Malfoy said immediately, “But he’s a smart boy, just a little careless.”
Prof. McGonagall nodded again.
“Oh yes, Draco told me,” Mr. Malfoy took out a really neat handkerchief and wiped the sweat off his nose before continuing, “that you have a retard in your class. How can this be?”
He shook his head and said, “This is very unfair, professor. Think about the other children here. It’s a very bad influence. You should be complaining to the Headmaster about this.”
Prof. McGonagall replied, “That’s not true. Yes, I don’t deny we have a mentally challenged student here, but he’s a good boy and means no harm…”
Before she could finish, Mr. Malfoy cut in, “Well, unfortunately, it’s a matter of quality here. If you have a retard in your class, how can you teach any better…”
Again, someone else cut off Mr. Malfoy’s words. It was Hermione Granger’s mother saying, “Excuse me, sir, don’t you think you’re a little bias here…”
Later, the more they talked, the more I couldn’t understand. Also, they’ve finished drinking their water, so I had to go get some more.
When I came back, I saw Prof. McGonagall’s nose quite red, as if she had just cried a great deal. Mr. Malfoy’s face was red with anger and his smooth forehead seemed to grow a lot of wrinkles as he stomped out of the classroom. Harry Scarface’s godfathers didn’t look too happy either. Mrs. Granger’s nose was also red as she shook her head with a hanky near her mouth, muttering, “How cruel…How heartless he is…”
Harry Scarface pulled me out of the classroom and told me, “You better not go in, Ron. They’re all arguing because of you.”
I was shocked. I don’t even know a single one of them. I only met them today.
“Oh, don’t mind about them. This had nothing to do with you,” Harry Scarface smiled a very small smile, but I didn’t think he was actually happy.
OK, they were arguing because of me, but it had nothing to do with me; I don’t get it.
“I don’t get it either,” Harry Scarface lifted his shoulders and sighed.
Soon, all the parents went home. Prof. McGonagall told us to come in and arrange the tables and chairs back in order. She looked at me and said, “Ronald Weasley, if only you know you’re suffering so much right now.”
I know what ‘suffer’ means. It has something to do with crying. But I’m not crying. Prof. McGonagall and Mrs. Granger are the ones crying.
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