Ronald Weasley's Diary-Chp 25

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: A BAR OF CHOCOLATE

There was no school on Sunday, so I went to the park and watch people play basketball.

There were a lot of people in the park, and I saw a lot of people I knew, so I called them one by one, “Hey, Ced. Hey, Oliver.” They both lived next-door to mine and studied in the same high school as I have.

Cedric came to me and said, “How’s about a game of basketball?”

But whenever it was my turn, no matter how hard I throw, the ball just wouldn’t go into the net. Cedric took the ball from me and said, “Get outta here, Ron. You’re too stupid to play with.”

So I had to sit aside and watch them play. Cedric was really good. He always got the ball into the net. But too bad there’s a hole under the net and it kept falling out, so he had to keep throwing.

Suddenly I realized that I haven’t eaten breakfast. No wonder my stomach was so hungry. I stood up, patted my pants and said to Cedric, “I’ll come later after breakfast, Ced.”

Cedric was still throwing the ball and didn’t reply. He must be very angry at the hole under the net to not talk to me.

On the way home, I met Tom Riddle, the guy who hit me with his motorcycle the other day. He was always wearing that pair of green rain boots and had a towel around his neck. Whenever he comes for waffles, he would always ask for an extra spoonful of maple syrup with a small stick of butter on top, and black coffee to go.

Tom saw me and said, “Yo, egghead. Why aren’t you at school?”

I glared at him and said, “There’s no school on Sunday, the professor said so.”

I was still a little angry with him for hitting me.

“Don’t be so grouchy,” Tom laughed out loud. His teeth were small and he had fangs. Maybe he’s a vampire like in TV, but vampires don’t walk around in the morning. Maybe he’s a snake pretending to be human. I never asked him about that. He patted my head and said, “How about helping me with a little task, eh?”

I asked him, “What task?”

He led me to the park wall and pointed at a pile of bricks, saying, “If you help me push the cart, Uncle Riddle will give you something real nice.”

But I don’t know how to push a cart. Tom said, “It’s way easy. Even a retard can do it.”

I thought, since I’m a retard, then I should be able to do it.

Tom stooped down and put a brick into the cart, and then another, then another…after putting them in, he stood up and told me to push the cart.

“Push it slowly and don’t let it fall. Push the cart all the way to that big tree over there, take out all the bricks and stack them up neatly and you’re all done. See? Wasn’t that easy?” Tom said as he wiped the sweat off his face.

So I pushed it real carefully. The cart was really heavy. Every time I moved, the cart would fall sideways. Tom came to me and helped me hold the cart straight and said, “Take it easy, son. You’ll get the hang of it once you’ve walked a few more times.”

I pushed it all the way to the big tree, took out the bricks and stacked them neatly on the ground. Tom yelled from the wall he was standing at, saying, “Alright! That should do it! Come back here and get some more!”

I went back to get some more bricks, and this time the cart didn’t fall sideways. I was very glad. I felt very smart. I decided to tell Harry Scarface tomorrow that I am good at moving bricks and I am good at pushing carts.

Cedric was coming out of the park with his ball in his hand and he was looking at me weirdly. He asked, “What the heck are you doing moving bricks?”

I replied, “Tom taught me. If you want to, I can let you move some. It’s so easy, even a retard can do it.”

Cedric threw the ball in the air and caught it again, saying, “You are such a dumbass. You don’t even know Tom’s using you!” After that he went back in to play ball again.

I pushed all the leftover bricks to the tree. Tom was sitting on his motorcycle and was checking his fangs with the mirror. He said, “All done?”

I nodded.

“Very good. Ol' Riddle always keeps his word. Here’s something for you,” he licked his fangs a little and took out a bar of chocolate from his pocket.

“This is a very expensive brand of chocolate, all the way from France. See the French words on it?” he said as he showed it to me. He was right. I did see French words on it, just like the ones in the textbook during French class. I opened the bar of chocolate and ate it. I was really hungry, and moving bricks and sweating made it worse.

“Tastes good, doesn’t it?” Tom asked as he wrapped the towel around his neck.

I nodded.

Tom said again, “Next time I’ll ask you to help me move them again.” So I agreed.

But the next day, Harry Scarface told me not to go help Tom Riddle to do his dirty work. I tried to tell him that the bricks weren’t that dirty, and it was very easy to clean off my hands, but Harry Scarface said I just didn’t get it.

I really didn’t.

Ronald Weasley's Diary-Chp 24

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: I’M GONNA NEED HELP AGAIN

“Ronald Weasley, wait a minute. Let me follow you home.” Prof. McGonagall said that to me one day after school.

So I waited for her outside the office. I heard her talking to another teacher, saying, “Family interview again. What luck I have to get a ‘boy wonder’.”

She came out with an umbrella in her hand and said with her eyes squinting, “My, what a hot day!”

I walked behind her. Whenever I stepped on her shadow I would stop for a while. But Prof. McGonagall would turn around and say, “Hurry up, boy. I have other things to do, you know.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell on you,” she smiled as she patted my head. “I called your mother this morning and she said the best time would be in the evening where there’ll be little customers. So I picked this time to go and meet her.”

I didn’t know what to say. Sweat was falling all over my face and dripped onto my eyes. I didn’t dare to wipe them away, so I kept on blinking.

Once she reached the shop, she kept her umbrella. I ran inside quickly and said as I secretly wiped the sweat with my arm, “Professor’s here, Mother.”

Mother was washing the dishes. She said, “Forgive me, professor. The shop’s a little messy. Have a seat and I’ll get you a soft drink.”

But Prof. McGonagall didn’t want soft drinks. She sat down and said, “Sorry for interrupting your business, Mrs. Weasley. I just wanted to discuss with you about things concerning your son.”

Mother wiped her hands on her apron and sat opposite Prof. McGonagall.

Prof. McGonagall said, “I suppose you know that Ronald is an exceptional child. To tell the truth, I don’t see him learning anything in my class.”

Mother lowered her head and kept wiping her hands on her apron.

Prof. McGonagall continued, “It’s not that I don’t care about Ronald, but my hands are full. Today’s high school students are cunning-minded and smart-mouthed. You tell them one thing and they’ll give you something else. Just handling this bunch of normal students is enough to give me a massive headache.” She thought for a while and smiled, “Well, I’m not saying that your son is not normal, it’s just that he needs some kind of special learning.”

Mother looked up quickly and said, “I sent him for tuition—French class, for that matter—and he goes together with his sister Ginny to help him on that subject. Very expensive fees, you know.”

“It’s not enough to help him just by French tuition alone. He’s way behind everyone even in English and Math, not to mention Biology and History, just to name a few.” Every time Prof. McGonagall said something, she shook her head. I thought about the name ‘Francois’ I got from the French teacher during French tuition class. If I were to go for English tuition, I’m not going to let myself be called ‘Francois’ anymore. I don’t like the name ‘Francois’. It confused me between being a friend and a fly swat. I’m not a fly swat. I’m a boy.

Luckily, Mother said she wasn’t going to take me for English tuition. She said, “We send him to your school in hope that he’ll at least learn something out of it. If he’s being naughty you can beat his hand or you can punish him by facing the wall if necessary.”

“That’s not the problem, Mrs. Weasley,” Prof. McGonagall shook her hand, “He’s a special boy and he should be put in a special class. It’s just that our school doesn’t have the power or the funds to start up special classes and we can’t help him much. Maybe you should consider the option of an institution…”

“I refuse to waste my money and let my son be put in a looney bin even if they can help him!” Mother raised her voice a little. “My son deserves to have the same education as everyone else!”

“Please calm down, Mrs. Weasley. I understand what you mean, but he still needs all the help he can get.”

Mother would be angry if anyone mentioned me being put into this place called ‘institution’. She called it a ‘looney bin’ where people put crazy people in it, and she would always tell me that I’m not crazy, just slow. I know I’m not crazy. I’m a retard, that’s all.

After listening for a while, I finally understood what they were talking about. Mother kept saying the word ‘help’ and Prof. McGonagall also said ‘help’ once in a while. I got it. I need ‘help’. I know ‘help’ very well. Mother knew how to make them. During winter, she would go to a weird-smelling shop where there’s this Chinese old man would pick out all sorts of weird plants, then he would ask Mother to cook them together with chicken soup. The plants would make the chicken soup black and bitter, and Mother would force me to drink them. She would always say, “Drink this and see if it can help you be smarter.”

Bloody hell! Even Prof. McGonagall said about ‘help’. I am definitely dead meat. I guess I’ll be forced to drink ‘help’ even at this bloody hot summer day.

Prof. McGonagall and Mother both lowered their heads and ran their fingers on the table. I wanted to go watch cartoons upstairs, but when I stood up, Prof. McGonagall spoke again.

“All I can do now is let Ronald sit in class and treat him as a guest. I let him have his lunch at school and let him sleep in class. I’ve tried my best, Mrs. Weasley, but my hands are tied.”

Mother sighed, “It cannot be helped, I suppose. I’m often busy selling waffles and I have no time to look after him. I hope you take real good care of him, professor.”

Prof. McGonagall stood up, and I quickly got her umbrella for her. Before she left, she asked me, “Are you ever bored in school?”

I shook my head.

Prof. McGonagall sighed quietly, but I heard her. I just didn’t know what she was sighing for.

Today was not a good day. Mother and Prof. McGonagall had sighed a lot, and I might be drinking ‘help’ sooner or later. ‘Help’ sure is bloody bitter.

Ronald Weasley's Diary-Chp 23

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: A VIP IS COMING TO SCHOOL

During assembly, the student council president said that there would be a VIP visiting our school, and whenever we see him, we must greet him. He’s easy to recognize. He’s the one walking beside Headmaster Dumbledore.

Later then, I did see the VIP. After assembly, on the way to class, I saw Headmaster Dumbledore standing at the foot of the stairs. There was someone beside him. I bowed to them and said, “Good morning, Headmaster. Good morning, Mr. VIP.”

But Headmaster Dumbledore didn’t seem to hear me. He kept telling the VIP, “Go and hang up the welcoming banner.” And the VIP said, “Yes, sir.”

Harry Scarface pulled me away and walked real quick. Then he laughed out loud and said, “That’s the caretaker Argus Filch, not the VIP.”

How am I supposed to know? Who asked him to stand beside Headmaster Dumbledore and made me make a mistake?

Harry Scarface then told me that if we see the VIP, he would be wearing a very nice expensive suit.

The council president didn’t even tell us such an important thing like this. If we were to call the wrong person, we would surely be done for.

When we went into class, we saw Prof. McGonagall wrote a lot of stuff in her book with her head really low. When the class started to grow noisy, she looked up and warned, “Open your books and study on your own. When the VIP comes, I don’t want to catch you all making a scene.”

She lowered her head again and continued wrote. Once in a while she would wave her hand, like her hand was sore or something. Hermione walked over and asked, “Do you need my help, ma’am?”

But Prof. McGonagall never looked up. She said, “No, Ms. Granger. This is on Ronald Weasley’s report. I doubt you know how to write it.”

What? Prof. McGonagall’s writing about me? Why didn’t she write about Hermione or Draco? I always get the last in class. What is there to write about? I thought she was real nice for picking me for her report even when I’m so dumb.

Later, Headmaster Dumbledore came into class. He and Prof. McGonagall talked at the corridor and kept looking back at me. I was scared. Headmaster Dumbledore must be very angry because I called the caretaker the VIP.

“Ronald Weasley, please come here,” Prof. McGonagall stuck her head in and waved her hand for me to go over.

So I did, with my legs shaking, of course.

Headmaster Dumbledore looked at me for a while, rubbed my head and said, “Mr. Weasley, do you like school?”

I nodded.

“Later if the VIP asked you that, you have to say ‘Yes’, understand?”

I nodded again. My legs were still shaking, but not that bad anymore. Headmaster Dumbledore didn’t seem like he was going to punish me.

Headmaster Dumbledore then said, “If the VIP asked if the teachers gave you any extra classes or have constant contact with your parents, you have to say ‘Yes’ to all of them, understand?”

My legs shook again. How can I remember so much of what Headmaster Dumbledore had said? But I didn’t dare to say that, so I said quietly, “Yes, sir.”

Headmaster Dumbledore finally nodded. He turned to Prof. McGonagall and said, “These special education committees are the most troublesome groups. Once they’re here, they would start flipping through the students’ records. A special student like Ronald Weasley here would definitely be the root of questions popping out of their mouths.”

Prof. McGonagall nodded too, “Especially that head of committee Cornelius Fudge. They’ll never understand the hard work of us teachers. One teacher having to cope with more than 30 normal students in the classroom is already tiring enough. No one would have the time to look after another special student. They might as well try teaching them for themselves while they’re at it.”

“Remember what I’ve said, Mr. Weasley,” Headmaster Dumbledore reminded me again.

I nodded. I had to nod at him all day today anyway.

Harry Scarface was right—the VIP really did wear a very nice expensive suit, almost like Mr. Malfoy’s kind. He and Headmaster Dumbledore were walking together as they came into class and watched us. Prof. McGonagall started the class. She would speak for a while, then come to me and ask, “Understand?” and I would nod my head.

But I was very nervous. I’ve forgotten what Headmaster Dumbledore taught me to say. If the VIP started asking me anything, I’d be dead meat.

Luckily, he only talked to Prof. McGonagall and never asked me a thing. They never came to me and asked to say things that I didn’t know how to say.

I like this VIP.

Ronald Weasley's Diary-Chp 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: I DREW A PAPAYA

The whole class was quiet. We were all looking at a papaya and some guavas.

Prof. Trelawney brought a huge papaya and some guavas to class. I thought she was going to cut them for us to eat, but then I thought she wouldn’t be that nice. Just as I had thought, she wasn’t going let us eat them; she was going to let us draw them.

First she laid a huge cloth on the table and put the papaya on it, then she put the guavas in front of it. She then walked to the back of the class and stared at the papaya. After looking at the papaya, she looked at the guavas. Finally she took the guavas one by one, thought for a long, long time, and then put them at either sides of the papaya.

Every time during Art class, Prof. Trelawney would do something weird. Just like last week, she told us to listen to a song and draw out how we feel about the song. So I tried drawing what I felt, but in the end I didn’t draw anything because I felt nothing. Bloody hell, was I pissed! I had been listening hard. I couldn’t help it if I couldn’t feel anything. Harry Scarface was better than me. He had felt something, and what he felt was three long lines.

Today, it could be easy using papaya and guavas. I’ve eaten both of them before, and I know papayas have seeds.

“For this period we are going to do still portraits sketching,” Prof. Trelawney said as she pointed at the fruits on the table, “Everyone observe those fruits and watch clearly at the big and small of it, then draft them out.”

Everyone picked up their pencils and used their hands to point here and there before started drawing. I followed whatever they’re doing: hold up my hand straight and closed my eyes. But when I closed my eyes I couldn’t see anything. I opened my eyes and realized I only had to close one eye.

I then drew one, two, three circles. The big circle would be the papaya and the two smaller ones are the guavas.

I like Art class the most, because Prof. Trelawney would never put an X on my drawing paper. Everything to her was right.

Prof. Trelawney walked towards me and looked at my circles. I awkwardly erased the big circle and drew an even bigger one. Prof. Trelawney treats me very nice. She would never scold me. So I drew her a bigger one.

“Ronald, let me teach you something. Try colouring the circle with your pencil.”

So I did, making the whole circle black.

Prof. Trelawney smiled and asked, “See? When you coloured with your pencil, what happens?”

I replied quietly, “My pencil will break.”

She shook her head, “No, Ronald. When you filled in you circle, it’ll look much better, won’t it? This is called sketching.”

So I learned about ‘sketching’. Once I get home, I would draw a lot of circles and colour them black. Prof. Trelawney is really smart. Once she started teaching, I understood right away.

Prof. Trelawney patted my head and said, “Ronald, it’s alright if you’re not smart at languages or science, but you could be an art prodigy. Last month I went to an art exhibition and saw pictures done by people mentally disabled like you. Their drawings are so bold and so full of life. Many of those with mental disabilities often have hidden art talents, you know.”

So I kept colouring the circles to make her happy. Although I didn’t understand what she was saying, but she didn’t sound like she was scolding me.

But then suddenly, Prof. Trelawney held my hand, “Stop, stop. Don’t colour it anymore. You’re going to make it too black. Now, squint your eyes a little and look,” she said as she pointed at the papaya, “do you see a part of the papaya a bit brighter?”

I squinted real hard until I almost couldn’t see. I kept thinking, how could the papaya be bright? It’s not like it’s a light bulb or anything. But since Prof. Trelawney was so nice, I nodded and said the papaya was bright.

Prof. Trelawney shook her head, “You don’t seem to have any art talent. That’s weird. Maybe it just needs time to be discovered.”

As she left me she said, “Draw boldly, boy!”

But I didn’t know what ‘draw boldly’ meant.

I asked Harry Scarface about it and he said, “Just draw rubbish.”

How can I draw rubbish when Prof. Trelawney treats me so nice? Harry Scarface talks rubbish.

Ronald Weasley's Diary-Chp 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: RAINDROPS ARE FALLING ON MY HEAD

It was raining after school.

There was no rain this morning. The sun was high and bright, so I didn’t bring an umbrella. The others didn’t bring umbrellas either and we were all cramped at the corridor.

“Run for it!” Draco yelled and ran out of school with three more boys. They covered their heads with their bags and ran all the way to the school gate.

But soon they ran back from the school gate. Behind them was a man with bushy hair and beard—the first teacher I met when I first came to this school—following behind them with an umbrella. It was the Gamekeeper Hagrid.

Gamekeeper Hagrid was a huge, giant-like man who’s as fat as Santa Claus and his job was to scold people. He may look fierce and all that but the way he scolds people didn’t sound as fierce as he looks. But it was best to listen to him all the same, for when he became really angry, he’d knock the bloody socks out of you. Oh, and he talks in a very weird accent too, like he didn’t know how to speak English or something.

Gamekeeper Hagrid said, “Yer all gonna git wet if yer run home in dis heavy rain. Yer all yer parents’ wee lass an’ lads. If yer git a cold, yer parents ar’ gonna blame de school fer ain’t takin’ care o’ ye.”

Draco shook his wet bag and said, “Come on, Hagrid. They won’t say anything. A little rain won’t kill anyone.”

Gamekeeper Hagrid gave Draco a look, “Yer be’er not be daft, boy. Ev’rybody in de whole school knows yer daddy. Vice President o’ de PTA, ain’t he? He’s got more complainin’s den any udder parents. Ye stand ere real quiet an wait fer him tuh git yer an umbrelly.”

“Nosy busybody,” Draco muttered.

“I hears dat, boy. A lil’ concernin’s on ye an’ ye calls me nosy?” He then raised his umbrella and walked back out into the rain towards his security shed. He hadn’t walked a few steps when he turned around and said to Draco, “Ye kin give yer daddy a call fer ‘em to picks ye up if ye want.”

Hermione humph-ed and said to Draco, “Draco the little prince, Draco the little baby, you’d better not get wet or Headmaster Dumbledore is gonna be sore.”

She then said to others, “Draco is our little rich master, so he can’t get wet. Those who are poor, come with me!”

So saying, she put her bag on her head and ran out of the school. It’s very rare to see her break the school rules, and Harry Scarface and I thought it would be fun to run after her, but Harry Scarface can’t run. He still had that lung problem. So we moved aside and let the others run first. Every single one of our classmates had ran out of the school, leaving only Harry Scarface and I walking slowly in the rain.

When we reached the school gate, we saw the whole class standing at a roofed corner of the security shed getting scolded by Gamekeeper Hagrid. He was yelling, “Haven’ yer all bin listenin’ tuh wot I’ve says before? Yer git a cold runnin’ under dis heavy rain, an’ yer parents ar’ gonna git worried o’er ye.”

He pointed at Hermione and said, “An’ ye! Yer de head o’ class an yer leadin’ de class tuh git sick alongs wit ye!”

Draco looked up and pointed at me, “Sir, that weasel is also running under the rain along with that scarface!”

We quickly stopped walking and put down our bags.

Gamekeeper Hagrid gave us a look, frowned and said, “Hurry home, lads. Dinna stops at de roads.”
Draco shouted, “Not fair! How come they can go under the rain?”

Gamekeeper Hagrid barked back, “Why ar’ ye comparin’ wit Ronald Weasley? He’s already as dumb as kin be. A lil’ rain ain’t gonna do him any good.”

Harry Scarface and I walked out of the school as fast as we could. I can still hear Gamekeeper Hagrid scolding, “Ev’ry single hair an’ skin o’ yer body comes from yer parents. Harmin’ less, yer doin’ more rite fer ‘em. Have yer e’er thinks yer parents would be worried about yer? Wen yer parents sends yer tuh school, de school has de responsibility…”

I couldn’t hear the rest of his scolding. I wouldn’t understand them anyway.

I stopped using my bag to cover my head. There were books in there and I hate to get them wet. If they got wet I wouldn’t be able to copy words anymore.

There was a row of trees outside the school gates. As we walked under them, the raindrops were smaller and they fell lightly on my head.

Harry Scarface said, “Silly people really gets all the luck, don’t you think?”

I was really happy. I liked this kind of little rain. As they fell on my head, it felt a little ticklish and a little cool. We stepped on puddles and the water would squirt all over our faces. We laughed out loud. And that’s when Harry Scarface stopped and kissed me again, just like he did when we were in the toilet. I pushed him away lightly.

“Harry Scarface, why do you kiss me?”

Harry Scarface looked at me for a while, then smiled and said, “You don’t like it?”

Not that I didn’t like it. I just didn’t know why he did that.

“Because I’m your boyfriend.”

Boyfriend? Isn’t that only for boys and girls in love, like in TV?

Harry Scarface turned me to face him and said, “Look at me, Ron. I’m a boy, right?”

I nodded.

“And I’m your friend, right?”

I nodded.

“There you have it. Friends kiss too. Boys and girls sometimes kiss even when they are friends. Even boys do that as friends. Besides, you’re a boy and you’re my friend, so that’s why I kiss you,” he explained, then looked away and said, “But we cannot always kiss in the open, because people look down at smart people who kiss retards.”

I understood him this time. I’m a retard, and not many people like retards. I didn’t mind people not liking me, but I didn’t want people not to like Harry Scarface either. He’s smart and he should be liked. I like him too.

He looked at me again and smiled, saying, “Wanna kiss again?”

I nodded. He’s my boyfriend, and I’m his boyfriend, and I liked the way he kissed me. He came close to me and said, “This will be our little secret.”

I liked keeping secrets. They’re fun.

As the raindrops kept falling on our heads, Harry Scarface and I kissed.

Ronald Weasley's Diary-Chp 20

CHAPTER TWENTY: EVEN RETARDS GET ANGRY

I cried. I cried real loud.

I didn’t mean to. This morning, I went into class and put my lunchbox into the thermal box as usual. Suddenly Draco came, took out my lunchbox and put it on the teacher’s desk, saying, “Look what the retard has, everyone! Ooh, we have boiled chicken with gravy, tomatoes and baked potatoes, mushroom soup…”

There was a party at Cedric’s, the boy next door, home yesterday, and our family was invited. Mother took some of the leftovers home and gave it to me for lunch. She even sprinkled some pepper to make it smell good, but Draco had opened the cover and was letting all the good smell of pepper out. By the time I have my lunch it wouldn’t smell so good anymore. So I quickly ran over to cover my lunch box back.

But Draco took it away from me and said, “You’re already more than a potato head enough. These potatoes are a waste on you. Let me help you eat them instead.”

But I wanted to eat those baked potatoes too, so I fought with him. As we fought, the lunch box fell onto the floor, and my chicken with gravy, tomatoes and baked potatoes and mushroom soup fell all over the place. Some of the gravy and soup got onto both our clothes.

I was angry, so I said, “I’m gonna tell.”

Draco copied me, but he used a girl’s voice when he said, “I’m gonna tell.”

I got even angry, “Don’t copy me!”

“Don’t copy me, you fool!” Draco used that girl’s voice again. I got so bloody angry, I grabbed my flask and threw it at Draco. Draco shouted in shock and ran out of the classroom. My flask broke and the water in it wet both my shirt and my entire lunch on the floor.

Looking at the mess on my clothes and the floor, I knew I didn’t have anything to eat for recess later, and I knew I was going to end up hungry. I didn’t know what else I could do, so I started crying. Harry Scarface just came into class and saw the mess. He told me not to cry. He said, “Big boys don’t cry, Ron. Stop it.”

But I kept on crying the louder. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t know why.

Harry Scarface got a broom and a mop and cleaned the mess on the floor, then took me to the toilet to get my shirt cleaned. I was still crying, and it was getting worse. Harry suddenly grabbed me by the shoulders and put his mouth on mine and kissed me like those movies on TV. I didn’t know why he did that, and I didn’t know what it meant, but it made feel a little better. Still it didn’t stop me crying. He sighed, pulled me back to class and put both his lunch box and mine on my table and said, “I’ll share my lunch with you during recess, OK?”

It was OK, but I know it wouldn’t be enough for me.

Prof. McGonagall came into class and gave Draco a sound scolding, then told Draco to buy lunch from the cafeteria for me. I finally stopped crying when I knew I was going to have food for recess.
The next day, Mr. Malfoy came to school. As soon as he saw me, he said, “You were the one who threw the flask at my son, weren’t you?” He then turned to Prof. McGonagall and said, “That heavy flask could’ve hit my son squarely on the head or the eye. What have you to say about that?”

Prof. McGonagall replied, “If your son hadn’t looked for trouble with Ronald, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Mr. Malfoy said coldly, “Boys will be boys, professor. They can sometimes have too much fun out of something. But only people like Ronald Weasley here can have such bad response,” then pointed at me with his cane and continued, “With that kind of dangerous boy, who knows what else he can do? I’m beginning to doubt this school’s credibility, allowing such person to be place along with normal kids. If something were to happen, who’s going to pay for the damages?”

“Ronald Weasley is as normal as anyone else,” Prof. McGonagall said loudly as she suddenly stood in front of me.

I was shocked and scared.

“Anyone can get angry. Even retards get angry.”

Mr. Malfoy didn’t say anything. He gave me a cold look before walking out of the classroom.

Prof. McGonagall turned around and said to the whole class, “What are you all looking at? Open your books, everyone.”

After school, Harry Scarface said, “If anyone bullies you, do not cry. Be brave.”

But I don’t know how to be brave. I asked him to teach me. Harry Scarface thought for a long time, then said, “Just like yesterday when you threw the flask at Draco when he took your lunch box, that can be considered being brave. But that’s not real bravery, just anger.”

Wow, there’s even real and not real in being brave. That’s hard. I didn’t want to learn about being brave anymore. I’m still trying to learn about the timetable; I have no time to learn about being brave.

Harry Scarface thought again for a very long time, then said, “Oh, never mind. If you feel angry about something, be angry about it. Nothing to worry about.”

Ronald Weasley's Diary-Chp 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN: DO NOT DISCRIMINATE RETARDS

The sun for today’s morning assembly was really high and huge. Even the Headmaster Dumbledore’s voice was high and loud. He kept talking and talking and didn’t even stop when I was all wet and sweaty.

I only heard him say, “We cannot………retards. Just because they are retards, doesn’t mean………Retards are human beings too………”

Harry Scarface was beside me, whispering, “Headmaster Dumbledore is talking about you.”

I knew that. I heard him say ‘retard’. The retard is me.

Finally, Headmaster Dumbledore said, “Oh, and another thing. We must not call them retards. That’s discrimination. Just call them by their names.”

Once we got back to class, I wiped the sweat off my face with my sleeves. I was very afraid. I didn’t know why Headmaster Dumbledore talked about me. I met him yesterday in the toilet and I greeted him loudly, “Good morning, sir.” And he replied, “Good morning, son. But you don’t have to greet me in the toilet.”

Prof. McGonagall came into the class later and asked the whole class, “Have you all heard what Headmaster Dumbledore said during assembly today?”

She then walked up to Draco and said, “There had been a number of parents complaining to the Headmaster about their children being bullied. You have to know that Headmaster Dumbledore is a very busy man and has to attend endless meetings. If every student’s parent of this school decided to make a complaint, our dear Headmaster is definitely going to tire himself to death.”

Bloody hell! If Headmaster Dumbledore were to die, this school is gonna ‘close shop’ for sure!

Prof. McGonagall continued, “So everyone must learn to love each other and stop giving the school so much trouble because of a little disagreement between themselves. We have just the mentally disabled student in our class’s midst, and he’s called Ronald Weasley. I know you all call him a retard. Think about it. Don’t you agree that he might be hurt if you called him that?”

She came to me and pulled me up while she talked to the whole class, “Look at him. Ronald looks just like everyone else. He has two eyes and a nose just like all of you, why should he be any different? He’s only a little slow in learning and doesn’t really know how to read and write, but that’s not his fault.”

Prof. McGonagall kept talking about me. It made me kinda embarrassed. I stood there and closed my mouth tightly.

“Alright. I won’t repeat whatever Headmaster Dumbledore had just said. I suppose you all understand this concept. From now on, you are not allowed to discriminate Ronald or call him a retard. If I hear anyone of you do that, I shall take points away from you.”

After done talking, she told me to sit down.

I understand Prof. McGonagall better. What she meant was that I am a retard but I shouldn’t be called so.

During recess, Draco ran to me and grabbed my exercise book, shouting, “Look, everyone! Our dear ol’ Ronald Weasley is so hardworking! He’s got his book filled with words!”

Everyone started laughing. I grabbed the book away from him and put it in my drawer.

“Come now, old fellow. You treat it like some kind of national treasure or something,” he said before turning to everyone, “I suppose if we keep this retard in this class any longer, we’re gonna be as stupid as he is!”

Harry Scarface shouted from his seat, “You’re already stupid, Malfoy. Don’t go around blaming others.”

Again, everyone laughed. Draco glared angrily at Harry Scarface, but Harry Scarface said the louder, “Didn’t the professor said whoever discriminates will have their points taken away from them?”

After recess, Prof. McGonagall asked Draco angrily at class, “I heard that you just called Ronald a retard. Haven’t you been listening to anything I’ve said?”

Draco had his head low and his face scrunched up in a weird way.

“Don’t give me that face, young man,” Prof. McGonagall scolded, then sighed and said, “We shouldn’t be looking down at these people. They might sometimes understand whatever we’re saying, and they might feel hurt whenever we make fun of him. We can’t pretend that they don’t know anything.”

Prof. McGonagall finally stopped talking after she took a look at me.

She opened her textbook and said, “Turn to Chapter Eight, please.”