CHAPTER SIXTEEN: THE THING ABOUT SINGING
Hermione Granger came into class today and said loudly, “Everyone quiet down. I have an important announcement to make.”
She then opened up a piece of paper and read it to the class, “Choir competition. Will be held on the 20th of October. The theme of the song is…”
After finish reading, she looked at us and said, “We must fight and strive hard for the pride and honour of our class, or else we’ll again be the laughing stock of the school, as usual. I’ve discussed to the music teacher about this matter, so starting tomorrow, we’ll be practicing during recess.”
I was glad to hear it. I’m willing to fight and strive hard with Hermione.
But Draco suddenly shouted, “There’s no point of competing! We’ve got a retard here, and it’s a no-brainer that our singing is going to be a comedy gone wrong. Oh, and another thing, since we’re already at it, let’s make that weasel here an actor and star on his own debut ‘Forrest-Ronald Gump’. How’s that for creative?”
What? Me? Acting! I quickly put my hands over my mouth to stop myself laughing. I’ve watched TV and have seen actors way more handsome than me! I can’t be an actor! That’ll be bloody embarrassing!
But Harry Scarface stood up and said, “I’m the one not suitable on stage. Ron can sing, so why can’t he join the choir competition?”
Draco turned to him and asked, “If he suddenly make a scene in the middle of the song, our team would definitely be ruined.”
The whole class started arguing. Again.
Hermione yelled, “QUIET!” She then thought for a while and said, “Let’s vote for it then.”
I’m good at voting. I just have to raise my hand.
Hermione asked, “Those who vote for Ronald to not go on stage raise your hand.”
I raised my hand.
Hermione counted, “1, 2, 3…18, 18 votes. Those who vote for Ronald to go on stage raise your hand.”
I raised my hand again.
Hermione shook her head and said, “You’ve already raise your hand, Ronald. Put it down. OK, 1, 2, 3…12, 12 votes.”
She then widened her eyes and said angrily, “What about the others? There is always someone who has no comments. You seriously don’t care for any class activities now, do you?” She then pointed at Harry Scarface and asked, “Why didn’t you raise your hand, Harry?”
Harry humph-ed and replied, “There is no point in all this voting. I will have no part of this.”
So Hermione said, “18 over 12. Ronald is exempted from the competition.”
Harry stood up and said, “I’ll exempt myself.”
“Fine. I don’t care,” Hermione replied as she walked back to her seat and ignored him.
So every afternoon recess, the whole class would go to the music room to sing. The music room was on the second floor, and if you stand at the corridor, you can hear them practicing.
Harry Scarface and I leaned on the corridor wall. Harry Scarface said, “People stir up discrimination even in this kind of silly singing contest. What a loser!”
I didn’t know what he was talking about. I know that the TV often talked about public nation and private nation and all sorts of other nation I don’t understand, but to think that there is a ‘discrimee nation’, wow! Our world has gotten more and more advanced!
Actually I do know how to sing, but I can’t sing out loud. If I did that, Ginny would say, “You trying to wake the dead or what?” Dead people never wake up, but Ginny is too young to know that, so I can’t do anything about it.
I heard our classmates’ singing all the way from the second floor’s music room. I hummed quietly along with them.
Harry Scarface looked at me, laughed and hugged my arm, saying, “Sing it louder. I like listening to you. Sing it for me.”
I was just playing around, ‘coz I didn’t know what they were singing. I simply hummed what I just heard.
Harry Scarface didn’t care. He laid his head on my shoulder and hummed along with me. He sounded very bad, but I didn’t laugh.
We both hummed together out loud.
Friday, March 10, 2006
Ronald Weasley's Diary-Chp 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: IT’S VERY USEFUL
Every time Math class starts, I always feel like sleeping.
Actually I felt the same way during English, French and Biology, but Math is the worst. Once Prof. Snape starts drawing circles and triangles on the blackboard, I’d start yawning. I tried to close my mouth and not let the yawn out. I tried to yawn in my throat. But Prof. Snape still saw that, and asked me to go wash my face.
Next time, I’m gonna try yawning in my stomach.
Prof. Snape always said, “What are you going to be when you grow up when you don’t even know how to recite the timetable?”
I would be scared and started reciting, “Want tutu, tutu for…” And then I forgot the rest.
I hate the timetable. They always start with ‘Want’. The more I recite, the more I ‘want’ to have a ham and egg sandwich.
Prof. Snape also said, “If you are bad in Mathematics, you will suffer for the rest of your life. You would be so bad that you cannot even count your own salaries, and it serves you right if you’re tricked to death.”
And his most famous words would be, “Mathematics is very useful in your life, understand?”
Everyone would nod and answer, “Yes, sir.”
Same goes for me.
Prof. Snape has been giving me tuition for quite some time now. I go to his office every recess to teach me. But every time I tried to repeat what Prof. Snape taught me, I would forget it immediately the next day during class.
I only remember him telling me to pretend eating biscuits. So during Math class I would imagine it to be a biscuit, a huge round butter cookie, because the one that Prof. Snape drew on the paper was round.
I don’t get with Math, ‘coz there is always no words to write on my textbook. Prof. Snape kept drawing circles, triangles and a lot of lines on the blackboard. I don’t know how to draw. I only know how to draw glasses and beards on people in the books.
I want to be a useful person, but I don’t even know Math. What am I to do?
“If the speed of A is twice the speed of B, and the speed of C is…” Prof. Snape drew three lines on the blackboard: one long, one short and one in the middle. He said the long line is A and the short one is C.
I don’t even know who is A and who is C. Are they people or are they animals? Why are their names only an alphabet? Don’t their parents give them a longer name like Hermione or Draco or Harry Scarface or even Ronald, like me? I didn’t dare to ask, because no one did.
From now on, besides eating biscuits, I have to find someone who only has A for a name. If I find him or her, I might be able to understand Math better.
Bloody hell! There is no one whose name is only A, or B and C for that matter. Mother said we couldn’t move either. What if they live somewhere else?
It made Math even the more boring.
Prof. Snape said again, “Mathematics is very useful in your life, understand?”
I said, “Yes, sir.”
But this time, Prof. Snape walked away from the blackboard and came towards me, saying, “Ronald Weasley, what use is your kind to the community?”
I didn’t know what to say.
He gave me a cold stare and said, “You are a waste of community resources.”
He went back to the blackboard, drew a lot of lines and wrote down a lot numbers. Then he picked up the glass on his table and was about to drink his tea when he frowned and muttered, “All finished?”
He then rapped the empty glass on the table and told me to go to the office to get some more tea, “Weasley, get me a warm one.”
Prof. Snape always drinks tea instead of water, so I ran to get some. Math is very useful, so if I missed a single thing, it would be a waste for me.
Although right now I don’t understand Math, but once I’ve found those with only A, B and C for names, I might just be able to understand it.
I poured a full glassful of tea, then ran all the way back to class.
Every time Math class starts, I always feel like sleeping.
Actually I felt the same way during English, French and Biology, but Math is the worst. Once Prof. Snape starts drawing circles and triangles on the blackboard, I’d start yawning. I tried to close my mouth and not let the yawn out. I tried to yawn in my throat. But Prof. Snape still saw that, and asked me to go wash my face.
Next time, I’m gonna try yawning in my stomach.
Prof. Snape always said, “What are you going to be when you grow up when you don’t even know how to recite the timetable?”
I would be scared and started reciting, “Want tutu, tutu for…” And then I forgot the rest.
I hate the timetable. They always start with ‘Want’. The more I recite, the more I ‘want’ to have a ham and egg sandwich.
Prof. Snape also said, “If you are bad in Mathematics, you will suffer for the rest of your life. You would be so bad that you cannot even count your own salaries, and it serves you right if you’re tricked to death.”
And his most famous words would be, “Mathematics is very useful in your life, understand?”
Everyone would nod and answer, “Yes, sir.”
Same goes for me.
Prof. Snape has been giving me tuition for quite some time now. I go to his office every recess to teach me. But every time I tried to repeat what Prof. Snape taught me, I would forget it immediately the next day during class.
I only remember him telling me to pretend eating biscuits. So during Math class I would imagine it to be a biscuit, a huge round butter cookie, because the one that Prof. Snape drew on the paper was round.
I don’t get with Math, ‘coz there is always no words to write on my textbook. Prof. Snape kept drawing circles, triangles and a lot of lines on the blackboard. I don’t know how to draw. I only know how to draw glasses and beards on people in the books.
I want to be a useful person, but I don’t even know Math. What am I to do?
“If the speed of A is twice the speed of B, and the speed of C is…” Prof. Snape drew three lines on the blackboard: one long, one short and one in the middle. He said the long line is A and the short one is C.
I don’t even know who is A and who is C. Are they people or are they animals? Why are their names only an alphabet? Don’t their parents give them a longer name like Hermione or Draco or Harry Scarface or even Ronald, like me? I didn’t dare to ask, because no one did.
From now on, besides eating biscuits, I have to find someone who only has A for a name. If I find him or her, I might be able to understand Math better.
Bloody hell! There is no one whose name is only A, or B and C for that matter. Mother said we couldn’t move either. What if they live somewhere else?
It made Math even the more boring.
Prof. Snape said again, “Mathematics is very useful in your life, understand?”
I said, “Yes, sir.”
But this time, Prof. Snape walked away from the blackboard and came towards me, saying, “Ronald Weasley, what use is your kind to the community?”
I didn’t know what to say.
He gave me a cold stare and said, “You are a waste of community resources.”
He went back to the blackboard, drew a lot of lines and wrote down a lot numbers. Then he picked up the glass on his table and was about to drink his tea when he frowned and muttered, “All finished?”
He then rapped the empty glass on the table and told me to go to the office to get some more tea, “Weasley, get me a warm one.”
Prof. Snape always drinks tea instead of water, so I ran to get some. Math is very useful, so if I missed a single thing, it would be a waste for me.
Although right now I don’t understand Math, but once I’ve found those with only A, B and C for names, I might just be able to understand it.
I poured a full glassful of tea, then ran all the way back to class.
Ronald Weasley's Diary-Chp 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: HEROS & RETARDS
“Hey, retard! Do you want to be a hero?”
Draco pulled me beside the toilet during recess and asked me that with a grin on his face.
I know what ‘retard’ is—that’s me; but what is a hero? Is it better than a retard?
“Heroes are very brave people. What others don’t dare to do, heroes can. Everybody wants to be a hero,” Draco explained as he held up his thumb, saying that the thumb was a hero and the little finger was a retard.
The thumb was very fat and plump, the little finger was thin and tiny; I’m quite big and plump, so I should be the thumb. So I said, “I want to be a hero.”
Draco patted my shoulder and said, “Good fellow! I guarantee you’ll be a really cool hero!”
He came close to my ear and whispered, “Later, when you go into class, pull up Hermione’s skirt and see what colour is her underwear, and then report to me. If you do that, we’ll definitely call you a hero.”
“If Hermione doesn’t have an underwear, how am I gonna see it?” I asked.
Draco pulled at my pants and said, “Everyone has an underwear. Don’t tell me you don’t have one!”
Of course I do, and it’s white. It even has a tag on it written ‘30’. How expensive! It’s more expensive than having ice cream on waffles.
But I had another question, “Will Hermione be angry?”
Draco laughed out loud, “Of course not! Who would be angry at a hero?”
So I walked into class and saw her sitting at her table writing. How am I going to pull up her skirt?
I rushed to ask Draco about it.
“Oh, for goodness sake! Don’t be daft, boy. Try and think of something to make her stand up,” Draco glared at me and said, “Hurry! Hurry! We’ll be waiting for you at the corridor.”
I tried to think of something, but I couldn’t.
But then Hermione stood up on her own and walked quickly out of the classroom. I quickly chased after her. I was afraid of losing her that I yelled, “Hermione, wait!”
Hermione turned around and asked, “What is it, Ronald?”
I said, “Don’t go so fast, or I won’t be able to pull up your skirt.”
“Pull up what!” Hermione asked me very loudly and her eyes were huge.
“Pull up your skirt, that’s what. Or else you tell me for yourself, what colour is your underwear?” I had to ask her.
Hermione looked at me with her eyes almost popping out. She growled fiercely, “What did you say?”
I repeated what I said.
Suddenly she clenched her fist and punched my stomach real hard. I yelled in pain. She’s so weird. Maybe she wasn’t wearing any underwear, but she didn’t have to hit me.
“Humph! I get it! There’s gotta be someone behind this,” Hermione suddenly nodded, then pointed at my nose and asked, “Who asked you to do this?”
I replied, “It was Draco Malfoy. He said he was going to make me a hero.”
Hermione humph-ed again and said, “I knew it!”
She gave me a hard kick and said, “You are such big fat retard! You’re so good at being tricked, you wouldn’t even know it when you’ve been tricked to death!”
Then she told me, “Pulling up girls’ skirts are not heroes, they’re animals. Looking at girls’ underwear is no different than being a beast.”
I became angry. I’m a human boy, so why did Draco trick me to become an animal or a bee?
I’m not going to listen to Draco ever again, in fact, I’m going to lie to him that I’m actually wearing a red underwear.
I’m gonna trick him next time.
But Harry Scarface said, “You speak about underwear again and I’ll ignore you for the rest of your life. You are so bored.”
“Hey, retard! Do you want to be a hero?”
Draco pulled me beside the toilet during recess and asked me that with a grin on his face.
I know what ‘retard’ is—that’s me; but what is a hero? Is it better than a retard?
“Heroes are very brave people. What others don’t dare to do, heroes can. Everybody wants to be a hero,” Draco explained as he held up his thumb, saying that the thumb was a hero and the little finger was a retard.
The thumb was very fat and plump, the little finger was thin and tiny; I’m quite big and plump, so I should be the thumb. So I said, “I want to be a hero.”
Draco patted my shoulder and said, “Good fellow! I guarantee you’ll be a really cool hero!”
He came close to my ear and whispered, “Later, when you go into class, pull up Hermione’s skirt and see what colour is her underwear, and then report to me. If you do that, we’ll definitely call you a hero.”
“If Hermione doesn’t have an underwear, how am I gonna see it?” I asked.
Draco pulled at my pants and said, “Everyone has an underwear. Don’t tell me you don’t have one!”
Of course I do, and it’s white. It even has a tag on it written ‘30’. How expensive! It’s more expensive than having ice cream on waffles.
But I had another question, “Will Hermione be angry?”
Draco laughed out loud, “Of course not! Who would be angry at a hero?”
So I walked into class and saw her sitting at her table writing. How am I going to pull up her skirt?
I rushed to ask Draco about it.
“Oh, for goodness sake! Don’t be daft, boy. Try and think of something to make her stand up,” Draco glared at me and said, “Hurry! Hurry! We’ll be waiting for you at the corridor.”
I tried to think of something, but I couldn’t.
But then Hermione stood up on her own and walked quickly out of the classroom. I quickly chased after her. I was afraid of losing her that I yelled, “Hermione, wait!”
Hermione turned around and asked, “What is it, Ronald?”
I said, “Don’t go so fast, or I won’t be able to pull up your skirt.”
“Pull up what!” Hermione asked me very loudly and her eyes were huge.
“Pull up your skirt, that’s what. Or else you tell me for yourself, what colour is your underwear?” I had to ask her.
Hermione looked at me with her eyes almost popping out. She growled fiercely, “What did you say?”
I repeated what I said.
Suddenly she clenched her fist and punched my stomach real hard. I yelled in pain. She’s so weird. Maybe she wasn’t wearing any underwear, but she didn’t have to hit me.
“Humph! I get it! There’s gotta be someone behind this,” Hermione suddenly nodded, then pointed at my nose and asked, “Who asked you to do this?”
I replied, “It was Draco Malfoy. He said he was going to make me a hero.”
Hermione humph-ed again and said, “I knew it!”
She gave me a hard kick and said, “You are such big fat retard! You’re so good at being tricked, you wouldn’t even know it when you’ve been tricked to death!”
Then she told me, “Pulling up girls’ skirts are not heroes, they’re animals. Looking at girls’ underwear is no different than being a beast.”
I became angry. I’m a human boy, so why did Draco trick me to become an animal or a bee?
I’m not going to listen to Draco ever again, in fact, I’m going to lie to him that I’m actually wearing a red underwear.
I’m gonna trick him next time.
But Harry Scarface said, “You speak about underwear again and I’ll ignore you for the rest of your life. You are so bored.”
Ronald Weasley's Diary-Chp 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: MY SEAT
Draco’s father came to school again. He was talking to Prof. McGonagall at the corridor and was spinning his cane slowly. Then Prof. McGonagall came into class and asked, “Can you see the words on the blackboard?”
Draco shook his head.
Prof. McGonagall thought for a while, then asked him to change places with Pansy Parkinson at the first row.
Prof. McGonagall then said, “From now on, we are going to change seats every week, so that everyone’s vision would be evenly developed. There’s been an increase in short-sightedness, so everyone have to be careful.”
So every Monday we would change seats. We always laugh during that time, like we’re playing a game of tag or something. But Prof. McGonagall said I didn’t have to change places, and that I stay where I was at the backseat of the last row.
I watched them ‘playing tag’, but I ain’t ‘It’.
Harry Scarface said, “If you can’t see the words on the blackboard, you must say so, otherwise if you get short-sighted, you’d have to wear glasses like me. It’s very troublesome.”
I don’t want to wear glasses, and Mother would never let me. Every time when I drew glasses on the people in my textbooks, she would scold me. She seemed to hate people wearing glasses.
But I never get to change seats. It felt boring.
I wanted to change seats too. Harry Scarface wanted to tell Prof. McGonagall about it, but I shook my head and said, “No, don’t. What if the professor didn’t like it?”
Harry Scarface said, “But that’s your right.”
I don’t know what he meant by ‘my right’. I don’t have anything else in my right besides my arm.
Harry Scarface feared nothing. He went and asked Prof. McGonagall, “Why is Ronald Weasley always at the back?”
Prof. McGonagall asked me, “Can’t you see the words on the board either?”
I dare not say a word.
She went up front and pointed at one of the words, asking, “Can you see this word?”
I couldn’t read that word, so I shook my head.
“Can’t you see or can’t you read?” Prof. McGonagall asked loudly.
I stared really hard at it. It looked like a word, but I just didn’t what it was.
She turned to Harry Scarface and said, “See? No matter where Ronald Weasley sits, the results are the same. He wouldn’t understand the word anyway.”
Harry Scarface took one look at me and sighed. He finally kept quiet.
Prof. McGonagall came over and patted my head, “Don’t you like your seat?”
I said, “They throw rubbish here, yet they simply throw them.”
I didn’t like my seat. There’s a trashcan beside me, and whenever they missed it every time they throw their rubbish, they would ask me to pick it up and throw it for them, and I’d be very busy. Sometimes they throw empty drink packets and when I try to flatten them, the drink inside would squirt out and get my clothes all wet.
“So where do you want to be changed?” Prof. McGonagall asked.
I pointed at the backseat of the first row. Prof. McGonagall laughed.
“But that’s the backseat too.”
I replied, “That seat is closest to the kettle, so I can get water faster.”
Prof. McGonagall laughed again and said, “Why, Ronald, you’re not so dumb after all.”
So Prof. McGonagall allowed me to take turns sitting on the seat near the trashcan and near the kettle. From now on, I get to carry my bags and change seats every Monday. I’m very glad.
Draco’s father came to school again. He was talking to Prof. McGonagall at the corridor and was spinning his cane slowly. Then Prof. McGonagall came into class and asked, “Can you see the words on the blackboard?”
Draco shook his head.
Prof. McGonagall thought for a while, then asked him to change places with Pansy Parkinson at the first row.
Prof. McGonagall then said, “From now on, we are going to change seats every week, so that everyone’s vision would be evenly developed. There’s been an increase in short-sightedness, so everyone have to be careful.”
So every Monday we would change seats. We always laugh during that time, like we’re playing a game of tag or something. But Prof. McGonagall said I didn’t have to change places, and that I stay where I was at the backseat of the last row.
I watched them ‘playing tag’, but I ain’t ‘It’.
Harry Scarface said, “If you can’t see the words on the blackboard, you must say so, otherwise if you get short-sighted, you’d have to wear glasses like me. It’s very troublesome.”
I don’t want to wear glasses, and Mother would never let me. Every time when I drew glasses on the people in my textbooks, she would scold me. She seemed to hate people wearing glasses.
But I never get to change seats. It felt boring.
I wanted to change seats too. Harry Scarface wanted to tell Prof. McGonagall about it, but I shook my head and said, “No, don’t. What if the professor didn’t like it?”
Harry Scarface said, “But that’s your right.”
I don’t know what he meant by ‘my right’. I don’t have anything else in my right besides my arm.
Harry Scarface feared nothing. He went and asked Prof. McGonagall, “Why is Ronald Weasley always at the back?”
Prof. McGonagall asked me, “Can’t you see the words on the board either?”
I dare not say a word.
She went up front and pointed at one of the words, asking, “Can you see this word?”
I couldn’t read that word, so I shook my head.
“Can’t you see or can’t you read?” Prof. McGonagall asked loudly.
I stared really hard at it. It looked like a word, but I just didn’t what it was.
She turned to Harry Scarface and said, “See? No matter where Ronald Weasley sits, the results are the same. He wouldn’t understand the word anyway.”
Harry Scarface took one look at me and sighed. He finally kept quiet.
Prof. McGonagall came over and patted my head, “Don’t you like your seat?”
I said, “They throw rubbish here, yet they simply throw them.”
I didn’t like my seat. There’s a trashcan beside me, and whenever they missed it every time they throw their rubbish, they would ask me to pick it up and throw it for them, and I’d be very busy. Sometimes they throw empty drink packets and when I try to flatten them, the drink inside would squirt out and get my clothes all wet.
“So where do you want to be changed?” Prof. McGonagall asked.
I pointed at the backseat of the first row. Prof. McGonagall laughed.
“But that’s the backseat too.”
I replied, “That seat is closest to the kettle, so I can get water faster.”
Prof. McGonagall laughed again and said, “Why, Ronald, you’re not so dumb after all.”
So Prof. McGonagall allowed me to take turns sitting on the seat near the trashcan and near the kettle. From now on, I get to carry my bags and change seats every Monday. I’m very glad.
Ronald Weasley's Diary-Chp 12
CHAPTER TWELVE: FRENCH TUITION
After school, Mother said to me, “I’ve enrolled you and Ginny to go for French tuition class. Tomorrow onwards, you’re going tuition with her.”
“I don’t want to go with Ron,” Ginny said.
Mother scolded loudly, “He maybe stupid, but he’s still your big brother.”
Both of them stood there looking angrily at each other. I didn’t know what to do.
Ginny said, “No matter what, I’m not going to walk with him.”
The next day, on the way to tuition class, Ginny said, “Wait, I’ll walk in front and you follow behind,” then thought for a while and said, “Once we’re in class, don’t you dare say that I’m your sister.”
I nodded.
So I walked real slow, never daring to walk past her. But I have to keep an eye on her, or I’ll lose her. It’s really hard that way. I almost hit a trashcan on the way.
Finally we were there. We went all the way to the first floor. There’s air-conditioning in the classroom. That’s good. I’m beginning to like tuition already.
But Ginny didn’t seem to like it. She kept very far away from me and sat at the very front seat. I went all the way to the back and sat at a very big table.
A grownup came to me and said, “I’m sorry, this is the teacher’s seat. You go sit over there.”
Someone laughed and Ginny turned around and glared at me.
During class, a very beautiful yellow-haired teacher named Fleur Delacour, if I said it right, gave us textbooks. I opened and saw there were loads of words I couldn’t understand. The teacher said in a weird accent, “Let me give you all French names.”
She called out some names and said something I didn’t understand. She sounded even worse than Prof. Flitwick with her teeth hissing like a snake and tongue curling without control. And she kept talking like she was trying to remove phlegm from her throat but couldn’t. When she called my name, I raised my hand and stood up.
She smiled and said, “Ronald Weasley, you are the eldest in the class. Do you want to be a class monitor?”
I shook my head, “No, thank you. I already have a class monitor.”
She said, “But everyone else besides you are fourth and fifth grade. You have to work hard and be a role model to the class.”
Then she asked me with a smile and said, “What sort of name do you want, Ronald? Francois? Gaston?”
I said, “Francois is better.” I don’t like Gaston. Makes me feel gassy.
Why are French names so weird? I heard Ginny saying that she wanted to be called ‘Palais’. Sound almost like the football player Pele or something.
During recess, I felt bored. I saw Ginny going to the corridor to get a drink. I felt like having a drink too. I went there and told the two people beside her, “You know what? I’m not Ginny Weasley’s brother.”
The two people looked silly. They were looking at me like they didn’t understand what I was saying.
So I said, “Ginny Weasley is Pele, get it?”
Ginny stomped towards me and glared at me, saying quietly, “You’re gonna pay once we’re home.”
Sheesh! I was trying to do something good.
At home, Ginny said something to Mother, then suddenly cried. Mother said, “Your brother is getting behind all the other students at school, so I paid money to get him a little extra help. What are you crying for anyway?”
As she walked to her room she warned me, “Don’t ever speak to anyone in the tuition class, ever!”
I agreed. Besides the teacher kept asking us to speak as much French as possible in class, but I know only one French word, which is ‘I am Francois’.
Whenever I said it, they would laugh at me quietly. Why do I have to be called ‘Francois’ anyway? Am I a friend or a swat?
After school, Mother said to me, “I’ve enrolled you and Ginny to go for French tuition class. Tomorrow onwards, you’re going tuition with her.”
“I don’t want to go with Ron,” Ginny said.
Mother scolded loudly, “He maybe stupid, but he’s still your big brother.”
Both of them stood there looking angrily at each other. I didn’t know what to do.
Ginny said, “No matter what, I’m not going to walk with him.”
The next day, on the way to tuition class, Ginny said, “Wait, I’ll walk in front and you follow behind,” then thought for a while and said, “Once we’re in class, don’t you dare say that I’m your sister.”
I nodded.
So I walked real slow, never daring to walk past her. But I have to keep an eye on her, or I’ll lose her. It’s really hard that way. I almost hit a trashcan on the way.
Finally we were there. We went all the way to the first floor. There’s air-conditioning in the classroom. That’s good. I’m beginning to like tuition already.
But Ginny didn’t seem to like it. She kept very far away from me and sat at the very front seat. I went all the way to the back and sat at a very big table.
A grownup came to me and said, “I’m sorry, this is the teacher’s seat. You go sit over there.”
Someone laughed and Ginny turned around and glared at me.
During class, a very beautiful yellow-haired teacher named Fleur Delacour, if I said it right, gave us textbooks. I opened and saw there were loads of words I couldn’t understand. The teacher said in a weird accent, “Let me give you all French names.”
She called out some names and said something I didn’t understand. She sounded even worse than Prof. Flitwick with her teeth hissing like a snake and tongue curling without control. And she kept talking like she was trying to remove phlegm from her throat but couldn’t. When she called my name, I raised my hand and stood up.
She smiled and said, “Ronald Weasley, you are the eldest in the class. Do you want to be a class monitor?”
I shook my head, “No, thank you. I already have a class monitor.”
She said, “But everyone else besides you are fourth and fifth grade. You have to work hard and be a role model to the class.”
Then she asked me with a smile and said, “What sort of name do you want, Ronald? Francois? Gaston?”
I said, “Francois is better.” I don’t like Gaston. Makes me feel gassy.
Why are French names so weird? I heard Ginny saying that she wanted to be called ‘Palais’. Sound almost like the football player Pele or something.
During recess, I felt bored. I saw Ginny going to the corridor to get a drink. I felt like having a drink too. I went there and told the two people beside her, “You know what? I’m not Ginny Weasley’s brother.”
The two people looked silly. They were looking at me like they didn’t understand what I was saying.
So I said, “Ginny Weasley is Pele, get it?”
Ginny stomped towards me and glared at me, saying quietly, “You’re gonna pay once we’re home.”
Sheesh! I was trying to do something good.
At home, Ginny said something to Mother, then suddenly cried. Mother said, “Your brother is getting behind all the other students at school, so I paid money to get him a little extra help. What are you crying for anyway?”
As she walked to her room she warned me, “Don’t ever speak to anyone in the tuition class, ever!”
I agreed. Besides the teacher kept asking us to speak as much French as possible in class, but I know only one French word, which is ‘I am Francois’.
Whenever I said it, they would laugh at me quietly. Why do I have to be called ‘Francois’ anyway? Am I a friend or a swat?
Ronald Weasley's Diary-Chp 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN: WATER BALLOON WAR
They said bazaars are fun when we get to throw water balloons and earn money at the same time. They asked me to join, so I agreed.
Later I found out that I have to stand behind a board and let others throw water balloons at me. I said I didn’t want to. I’m not that stupid to just stand there and let others hit me.
Draco said, “Then what else can you do, weasel? Take a look at the chart. It says: Collect coupons, count money, draw posters, etc…Can you do any of these?”
Hermione explained, “Don’t worry, Ronald. You won’t always get hit. You can move away. Those really good at moving away won’t ever get hit by the water balloon.”
So I decided to become someone really good.
Hermione even said that it’s for our class fund. If there’s enough money to buy a drinking water machine, I don’t have to go around carrying water everyday.
During the bazaar, I stood behind the board and waited for people to throw water balloons at me. Draco was like the people in the market shouting for business when he kept yelling, “Water balloons! Come one, come all, and have fun throwing water balloons!”
There was a hole on the board and I have to stick my face through that hole. Suddenly someone came over to throw water balloons. I looked at him nervously. When he threw, I moved my face away and it didn’t hit me. I was really good.
The second person also missed. He yelled, “That ain’t fun!”
Draco ran to me and said, “Stop moving, weasel. Or we won’t get any money.”
So I stood there and didn’t move. As expected, when the next person threw the water balloon, it hit me and broke. My clothes were wet and everyone was having a great time laughing.
I laughed too. It didn’t hurt when the water balloon hit me, and it was fun getting wet. Anyway, Mother is not there, so she wouldn’t be angry with me.
I wanted to try throwing it myself, but I can’t cut myself in half and let one half standing behind the board and the other throw a water balloon.
Draco said, “If you don’t stand there, who will?”
No one wanted to stand there and be hit, so I had to stay.
I did this for the drinking water machine.
Biology teacher Prof. Sprout came over and she was holding a little girl’s hand. The little girl said, “Mommy, I want to throw a water balloon.”
And yet when she threw her water balloon hard, it flew on the air for a while and fell onto her shoes. She curled her mouth and scolded at Prof. Sprout, “Stupid water balloon!”
Prof. Sprout picked her up, went up the board and asked her to throw it one more time. She frowned, moved her mouth sideways and hit me square on the nose. I rubbed my nose and muttered, “Ouch.” She laughed out loud.
“That was fun!” she said.
“Yeah, that was fun! That big brother is so silly,” Prof. Sprout replied.
She looked a lot like my sister Ginny, without the red hair, but my classmates kept saying, “What a doll your daughter is, professor!”
Maybe they do sell ugly dolls. There’s a lot of things for sale nowadays.
Finally the money we’ve earned is only enough to buy half a drinking water machine, but no one sells that sort of thing, so I still have to go get water for everyone everyday.
It’s alright, really. I like getting water. I used that time to secretly fill up a water balloon and throw it at my own feet. That was fun.
If there’s going to be another bazaar, I’m gonna ask them not to sell anymore water balloons. Because I got so wet and I forgot to bring dry clothes to wear, Mother gave me a sound scolding. I told her that it was decided by the class meeting and that everyone had to have a job to do, but Mother said, “You’re so stupid.”
Even Harry Scarface said, “Why should you let others throw water balloons at you, anyway?”
It doesn’t hurt, really. I only got my clothes wet.
But Harry Scarface said, “It’s not only your clothes that gets wet, you know.”
Sigh. He’s always saying stuff that I don’t understand anyway.
They said bazaars are fun when we get to throw water balloons and earn money at the same time. They asked me to join, so I agreed.
Later I found out that I have to stand behind a board and let others throw water balloons at me. I said I didn’t want to. I’m not that stupid to just stand there and let others hit me.
Draco said, “Then what else can you do, weasel? Take a look at the chart. It says: Collect coupons, count money, draw posters, etc…Can you do any of these?”
Hermione explained, “Don’t worry, Ronald. You won’t always get hit. You can move away. Those really good at moving away won’t ever get hit by the water balloon.”
So I decided to become someone really good.
Hermione even said that it’s for our class fund. If there’s enough money to buy a drinking water machine, I don’t have to go around carrying water everyday.
During the bazaar, I stood behind the board and waited for people to throw water balloons at me. Draco was like the people in the market shouting for business when he kept yelling, “Water balloons! Come one, come all, and have fun throwing water balloons!”
There was a hole on the board and I have to stick my face through that hole. Suddenly someone came over to throw water balloons. I looked at him nervously. When he threw, I moved my face away and it didn’t hit me. I was really good.
The second person also missed. He yelled, “That ain’t fun!”
Draco ran to me and said, “Stop moving, weasel. Or we won’t get any money.”
So I stood there and didn’t move. As expected, when the next person threw the water balloon, it hit me and broke. My clothes were wet and everyone was having a great time laughing.
I laughed too. It didn’t hurt when the water balloon hit me, and it was fun getting wet. Anyway, Mother is not there, so she wouldn’t be angry with me.
I wanted to try throwing it myself, but I can’t cut myself in half and let one half standing behind the board and the other throw a water balloon.
Draco said, “If you don’t stand there, who will?”
No one wanted to stand there and be hit, so I had to stay.
I did this for the drinking water machine.
Biology teacher Prof. Sprout came over and she was holding a little girl’s hand. The little girl said, “Mommy, I want to throw a water balloon.”
And yet when she threw her water balloon hard, it flew on the air for a while and fell onto her shoes. She curled her mouth and scolded at Prof. Sprout, “Stupid water balloon!”
Prof. Sprout picked her up, went up the board and asked her to throw it one more time. She frowned, moved her mouth sideways and hit me square on the nose. I rubbed my nose and muttered, “Ouch.” She laughed out loud.
“That was fun!” she said.
“Yeah, that was fun! That big brother is so silly,” Prof. Sprout replied.
She looked a lot like my sister Ginny, without the red hair, but my classmates kept saying, “What a doll your daughter is, professor!”
Maybe they do sell ugly dolls. There’s a lot of things for sale nowadays.
Finally the money we’ve earned is only enough to buy half a drinking water machine, but no one sells that sort of thing, so I still have to go get water for everyone everyday.
It’s alright, really. I like getting water. I used that time to secretly fill up a water balloon and throw it at my own feet. That was fun.
If there’s going to be another bazaar, I’m gonna ask them not to sell anymore water balloons. Because I got so wet and I forgot to bring dry clothes to wear, Mother gave me a sound scolding. I told her that it was decided by the class meeting and that everyone had to have a job to do, but Mother said, “You’re so stupid.”
Even Harry Scarface said, “Why should you let others throw water balloons at you, anyway?”
It doesn’t hurt, really. I only got my clothes wet.
But Harry Scarface said, “It’s not only your clothes that gets wet, you know.”
Sigh. He’s always saying stuff that I don’t understand anyway.
Ronald Weasley's Diary-Chp 10
CHAPTER TEN: I’VE BEEN HIT
When I was crossing the road that day, I’ve walked slowly and I’ve looked both sides before crossing, yet I still got hit.
There was a motorcycle suddenly speeding towards me. I didn’t manage to move away, so I fell. My leg hurt and was bleeding, and my lunch was all over the place. I saw what Mother made for me: ham and egg sandwich, an apple and a box of pear juice.
The motorcycle guy picked up his bike and picked me up. Someone across the street came over and asked, “Are you alright? There’s a clinic nearby.”
So they both took me to have my leg bandaged.
The guy who hit me kept on talking, first to the doctor, then to the nurse. He talked real quick, and I couldn’t even understand any of his words. Besides, my leg was so friggin’ painful. I’m trying hard to hold the pain.
Later Mother came and asked the doctor, “Anything wrong? Will he be lame? Who hit him?”
The guy who hit me came to her and said, “It’s me, Mrs. Weasley. I just told the doctor that your son wasn’t watching the road when he was crossing. He made me hit him.”
I then realized that he was our neighbour who works at a construction site. He was Mother’s regular customer. Every time he came for waffles he would asked, “Hey, egghead! Have you eaten your eggs today?” When I replied “Yes”, he would laugh out loud.
But Mother never laughed.
He turned to the doctor and said, “That kid’s brain’s a little slow and reflexes are bad. I did yell out for him to move away but he just stood there.”
He looked at me and said, “What bad luck.”
Mother touched my knee and scolded me silently, “Didn’t I tell you to be careful?”
I said, “I was careful.”
The guy who hit me took his helmet and said, “Alright, I gotta go work now. Tell your son to be careful next time.”
Mother said, “Hey! You just hit my son! Aren’t you gonna pay for the medical bills? You could’ve given my son a concussion!”
The doctor said, “We’ll have to monitor him for three days to confirm that.”
The guy who hit me replied angrily, “Your son’s brain ain’t gonna be any different whether he got a concussion or not. I told you, it was he who wasn’t careful. You can’t blame it all on me.”
He paused for a while and continued, “You shouldn’t be letting that kid walking around in the streets alone, or you’d be blaming everyone for every accident he gets into.”
“Are you saying it’s my fault?” Mother was also angry.
“What else you expect?”
Mother started to cry as she said, “You think you’re so tough bullying someone more dumb than you are, aren’t you?”
The doctor patted Mother’s shoulder and said, “Alright, alright, that’s enough. For now, the medical bills are on me. You just take your son back home and rest, and don’t let water get into his wound.”
So Mother took me home. I didn’t have to go to school today.
But I really felt like eating ham and egg sandwich. When I told that to Mother, she scolded me angrily, “Is there anything else you can do besides eating? Being bullied, that’s all you can do!”
I didn’t dare speak another word. My leg still hurt. Next time if I cross the road, I’m gonna walk even slower and I’m gonna wait until there’s absolutely no more cars before crossing.
But there are so many cars on the road. Do I have to wait until the middle of the night and there’s not a single person on the road before I cross?
The guy who hit was really fierce. Is he always like that when he hits other people? But then again, it’s better not to hit anyone else.
It hurts getting hit.
When I was crossing the road that day, I’ve walked slowly and I’ve looked both sides before crossing, yet I still got hit.
There was a motorcycle suddenly speeding towards me. I didn’t manage to move away, so I fell. My leg hurt and was bleeding, and my lunch was all over the place. I saw what Mother made for me: ham and egg sandwich, an apple and a box of pear juice.
The motorcycle guy picked up his bike and picked me up. Someone across the street came over and asked, “Are you alright? There’s a clinic nearby.”
So they both took me to have my leg bandaged.
The guy who hit me kept on talking, first to the doctor, then to the nurse. He talked real quick, and I couldn’t even understand any of his words. Besides, my leg was so friggin’ painful. I’m trying hard to hold the pain.
Later Mother came and asked the doctor, “Anything wrong? Will he be lame? Who hit him?”
The guy who hit me came to her and said, “It’s me, Mrs. Weasley. I just told the doctor that your son wasn’t watching the road when he was crossing. He made me hit him.”
I then realized that he was our neighbour who works at a construction site. He was Mother’s regular customer. Every time he came for waffles he would asked, “Hey, egghead! Have you eaten your eggs today?” When I replied “Yes”, he would laugh out loud.
But Mother never laughed.
He turned to the doctor and said, “That kid’s brain’s a little slow and reflexes are bad. I did yell out for him to move away but he just stood there.”
He looked at me and said, “What bad luck.”
Mother touched my knee and scolded me silently, “Didn’t I tell you to be careful?”
I said, “I was careful.”
The guy who hit me took his helmet and said, “Alright, I gotta go work now. Tell your son to be careful next time.”
Mother said, “Hey! You just hit my son! Aren’t you gonna pay for the medical bills? You could’ve given my son a concussion!”
The doctor said, “We’ll have to monitor him for three days to confirm that.”
The guy who hit me replied angrily, “Your son’s brain ain’t gonna be any different whether he got a concussion or not. I told you, it was he who wasn’t careful. You can’t blame it all on me.”
He paused for a while and continued, “You shouldn’t be letting that kid walking around in the streets alone, or you’d be blaming everyone for every accident he gets into.”
“Are you saying it’s my fault?” Mother was also angry.
“What else you expect?”
Mother started to cry as she said, “You think you’re so tough bullying someone more dumb than you are, aren’t you?”
The doctor patted Mother’s shoulder and said, “Alright, alright, that’s enough. For now, the medical bills are on me. You just take your son back home and rest, and don’t let water get into his wound.”
So Mother took me home. I didn’t have to go to school today.
But I really felt like eating ham and egg sandwich. When I told that to Mother, she scolded me angrily, “Is there anything else you can do besides eating? Being bullied, that’s all you can do!”
I didn’t dare speak another word. My leg still hurt. Next time if I cross the road, I’m gonna walk even slower and I’m gonna wait until there’s absolutely no more cars before crossing.
But there are so many cars on the road. Do I have to wait until the middle of the night and there’s not a single person on the road before I cross?
The guy who hit was really fierce. Is he always like that when he hits other people? But then again, it’s better not to hit anyone else.
It hurts getting hit.
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