CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: I HATE MONTHLY EXAMS
I love going to school. But one day, Prof. McGonagall told me not to come to school tomorrow and the day after tomorrow, because there’s going to be a two-day monthly exam.
Draco muttered, “What luck being a retard. They can be exempted from exams.”
Harry glared at him and said, “Those who attend the exams don’t mean they’re not retards.”
They always liked to argue, but I can’t do anything about it. I never understand what they’re arguing anyway.
Prof. McGonagall smiled also said, “Remember to come back to school two days later. I should’ve done this during last month’s exam. With you absent, our overall marks wouldn’t be pulled down by yours.”
I picked up my bag and went home. I’ve finished eating my lunch and I can hear the “clank, clank” noise the fork made inside my empty lunch box. But tomorrow and the day after tomorrow, I wouldn’t be carrying my bag and my lunch box to school.
Mother said, “For these two days, you better sit tight and study on your own, and don’t watch any TV. Not going to school doesn’t mean you can get away from studying.”
So I didn’t watch any TV, like she said. I woke up the next morning and watched the people outside my window. I saw many kids going to school in their uniform. I also say someone from my school. It was Cedric Diggory, the boy next door. I called out, “Hey, Ced!”
He looked up and saw me, “Aren’t you going to school? You’re gonna be late!”
I said, “My professor told me not to go.”
“Lucky you,” he replied, then started running to school.
I saw another student with a ball in his hand. Maybe he had P.E. today. Almost immediately, everyone was gone, so I had to look at other things. There were a pair of crows sitting on the electric pole and they were making such a loud noise that sounded almost like the way our class practiced their singing. I laughed inwardly. Too bad I wasn’t in the team. Prof. McGonagall told me to be below the stage and clap my hands real hard. I clapped so hard it kinda hurt. Maybe I shouldn’t have clapped that hard.
“Take out your books and study, Ron,” Mother suddenly stuck her head through the door and gave me a stern warning.
I quickly took all of my textbooks out and lined them all up on the table. Then I opened my exercise book and started to look for words to copy. I started with my English textbook and copied four words big, man, one and me from Chapter One. But then I remembered we’ve reached Chapter Eight, so I erased everything and turned to that page. After looking at that page for a while, again I found the four words big, man, one and me, so I copied them down. Then I realized what a bloody fool I was. I shouldn’t have erased the words I had copied in the first place!
Copying words was boring. I wondered what were Harry Scarface and the others doing. If I could go for monthly exams, that would be fun. But I only know how to get water and throw the garbage. Monthly exams are for smart people.
I wanted to sneak into the school but I was afraid that Prof. McGonagall would see me and get angry. Maybe I could try hiding behind the wall that surrounded the school. But then again, maybe not. We, the students, must listen to what the teacher says.
After two days, I carried my bag to school. I greeted Harry Scarface happily. He patted my shoulder and asked, “So, getting the luxury of sleeping in, eh?”
Hermione asked me to get water as usual. She said, “Without you these two days, we had no water to drink. Everyone was so busy cramming their brains into the books, they simply had no time to get water for any of us.”
So I cleaned the kettle and ran all the way to get freshly boiled water. I didn’t forget Prof. McGonagall’s warm share of water either, full to the brim.
I love going to school.
Harry Scarface said, “I’ve just read the newspaper saying that sooner or later they will abolish unnecessary tests. By then we won’t need to have to go through so many of them. I really hate monthly exams.”
I hate monthly exams too. Monthly exams keep me from going to school.
Saturday, March 11, 2006
Ronald Weasley's Diary-Chp 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: EYESIGHT CHECK-UP
I know that eyesight check-up is about checking to see if our eyes are still useful, and I know during check-up we have to use our hand to point everywhere. So when the nurse pointed at the picture on the wall, I started pointing.
First, I pointed up, then down, then up and down again.
But the nurse Madam Pomfrey looked rather angry. She glared at me and said, “Do you honestly know how to point? You’re driving me up the wall.”
I frowned as I thought. I saw everyone pointing up and down. Oh, I almost forgot, they also pointed sideways. So I did the same thing.
But Hermione came to Madam Pomfrey and said something to her ear. Madam Pomfrey then threw her round stick and glared at Hermione, saying, “Well, why didn’t you say so? You made me waste half of my day here!”
To tell the truth, I’ve pointed stuff before when I was in grade school. That time there were teachers to help me, and whenever I got it right, they would clap their hands and said, “Well done, Ronald!” and then give me a boiled sweet. But now I’ve forgotten how to point, and I didn’t feel like having a boiled sweet. I’d been standing so long and my arm was sore from pointing and I’m friggin’ tired, but Madam Pomfrey keeps saying that I got it wrong. Even I was as angry as her.
Hermione took in front of the picture and said, “Ronald, can you please be a little smarter just this once? You’re holding up everyone and you won’t even get by tomorrow.” She then pointed at a circle and said, “See? Can you see an open hole?”
I replied, “Yes.”
“Where?”
I pointed at the open hole on the picture.
“That’s right,” Hermione looked happy. “Now you just point at wherever the open hole is and you’re all done.”
That was bloody hell easy.
Madam Pomfrey drank some water and asked, “Are we good to go?”
Hermione nodded and said, “No problem. Give it a try.”
She pulled me behind a yellow line and told me to use a stick to cover one of my eyes.
Madam Pomfrey pointed at the first picture and said, “Where is the hole?”
I ran towards the picture and pointed at the hole.
“No, Ronald,” Hermione pulled me back behind the yellow line. “You have to stand here and point. You cannot run all the way there.”
But it’s so far away from the picture. How do you expect me to point? I didn’t dare say that, ‘coz I’m afraid of making Hermione and Madam Pomfrey angry. I gave it a long thought and then pointed up.
Hermione sounded relief and glad when she said, “Finally you understood something out of this!”
Actually it was just a guess. That picture was just too far away and I didn’t have long hands. They might as well give me a stick while they’re at, and maybe I might just be able to point it out. The stick had to be very long, maybe as long as that pole we use to clean windows.
Madam Pomfrey pointed again at the second picture. I was really pissed. I wanted to go over and point at the open hole for them to see, I know I can see it there. But they wanted me to stand behind the yellow line. They’re so weird. So I made another wild guess and point sideways.
“Are you sure?” Madam Pomfrey asked me.
I made it sure for her.
But Hermione wouldn’t let me make sure. She sounded fierce when she said, “You gotta be sure before you point, Ronald.”
Then let me bloody hell point at the real open hole of the picture! They just wouldn’t let me.
Finally Madam Pomfrey wrote something on a piece of paper, tore it into half and gave that half to me, saying, “You failed your eyesight check-up. Go ask your mother to get you some glasses.”
But Mother hates people wearing glasses. What am I to do? When I went back to class I showed my piece of paper to Harry Scarface. He chuckled for a while and said, “You don’t need glasses, Ron. I know your eyes are fine, you just needed a more special kind of check-up.”
But Mother read all my school notices. This time, she was looking at it long and hard. If the school wanted me to wear glasses, she will get them for me.
I hope that if I get my glasses, I’ll be smarter.
I know that eyesight check-up is about checking to see if our eyes are still useful, and I know during check-up we have to use our hand to point everywhere. So when the nurse pointed at the picture on the wall, I started pointing.
First, I pointed up, then down, then up and down again.
But the nurse Madam Pomfrey looked rather angry. She glared at me and said, “Do you honestly know how to point? You’re driving me up the wall.”
I frowned as I thought. I saw everyone pointing up and down. Oh, I almost forgot, they also pointed sideways. So I did the same thing.
But Hermione came to Madam Pomfrey and said something to her ear. Madam Pomfrey then threw her round stick and glared at Hermione, saying, “Well, why didn’t you say so? You made me waste half of my day here!”
To tell the truth, I’ve pointed stuff before when I was in grade school. That time there were teachers to help me, and whenever I got it right, they would clap their hands and said, “Well done, Ronald!” and then give me a boiled sweet. But now I’ve forgotten how to point, and I didn’t feel like having a boiled sweet. I’d been standing so long and my arm was sore from pointing and I’m friggin’ tired, but Madam Pomfrey keeps saying that I got it wrong. Even I was as angry as her.
Hermione took in front of the picture and said, “Ronald, can you please be a little smarter just this once? You’re holding up everyone and you won’t even get by tomorrow.” She then pointed at a circle and said, “See? Can you see an open hole?”
I replied, “Yes.”
“Where?”
I pointed at the open hole on the picture.
“That’s right,” Hermione looked happy. “Now you just point at wherever the open hole is and you’re all done.”
That was bloody hell easy.
Madam Pomfrey drank some water and asked, “Are we good to go?”
Hermione nodded and said, “No problem. Give it a try.”
She pulled me behind a yellow line and told me to use a stick to cover one of my eyes.
Madam Pomfrey pointed at the first picture and said, “Where is the hole?”
I ran towards the picture and pointed at the hole.
“No, Ronald,” Hermione pulled me back behind the yellow line. “You have to stand here and point. You cannot run all the way there.”
But it’s so far away from the picture. How do you expect me to point? I didn’t dare say that, ‘coz I’m afraid of making Hermione and Madam Pomfrey angry. I gave it a long thought and then pointed up.
Hermione sounded relief and glad when she said, “Finally you understood something out of this!”
Actually it was just a guess. That picture was just too far away and I didn’t have long hands. They might as well give me a stick while they’re at, and maybe I might just be able to point it out. The stick had to be very long, maybe as long as that pole we use to clean windows.
Madam Pomfrey pointed again at the second picture. I was really pissed. I wanted to go over and point at the open hole for them to see, I know I can see it there. But they wanted me to stand behind the yellow line. They’re so weird. So I made another wild guess and point sideways.
“Are you sure?” Madam Pomfrey asked me.
I made it sure for her.
But Hermione wouldn’t let me make sure. She sounded fierce when she said, “You gotta be sure before you point, Ronald.”
Then let me bloody hell point at the real open hole of the picture! They just wouldn’t let me.
Finally Madam Pomfrey wrote something on a piece of paper, tore it into half and gave that half to me, saying, “You failed your eyesight check-up. Go ask your mother to get you some glasses.”
But Mother hates people wearing glasses. What am I to do? When I went back to class I showed my piece of paper to Harry Scarface. He chuckled for a while and said, “You don’t need glasses, Ron. I know your eyes are fine, you just needed a more special kind of check-up.”
But Mother read all my school notices. This time, she was looking at it long and hard. If the school wanted me to wear glasses, she will get them for me.
I hope that if I get my glasses, I’ll be smarter.
Friday, March 10, 2006
Ronald Weasley's Diary-Chp 16
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.
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.
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?
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