Mandy Brocklehurst
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THOSE?" A voice roared from the downstairs.
"Nothing, mum! Honest!" Two boys said at once.
"I TOLD YOU THAT YOU WOULD NOT BE SELLING THOSE!"
"But, mum, we're starting a joke shop."
"YOU'RE DOING WHAT?!"
"I hate this." Ron grumbled as he got out of bed, "I hate everything."
He dressed quietly. He hated his red hair and freckles. He couldn't stand being so tall and lanky. But most of all, he hated being absolutely poor.
Before making his bed, Ron lied down and stared at his ceiling. He felt as if he stared long enough the chipped paint might dissapear, the pealing posters would plaster themselves to the walls, and that maybe, just maybe, inch by inch, the walls would move back and the room would be a decent size to live in. Ron stuck his hand in his pocket and played with the few coins he had. He wished that there was some spell he could use that would double the amount of money his family. With that money he'd buy new school books, for once. If Ron were rich Draco Malfoy, his worst enemy, would have nothing to torment him about. He'd be able to buy Harry Potter, his best friend of five years, an amazing Christmas present. With a decent amount of money he'd have something to impress Hermione with. Ron wasn't suprised that his thoughts ended up with Hermione, they always had, and Ron felt they always would. He pictured her curly brown hair, her smile, and he could almost hear her laugh. Hermione, Harry, and Ron had been inseperable for the past five year, and although they had their share of bickering and fussing, they were best friends none the less. Ron hadn't seen them in about a week, that's when school had closed for the summer. Ron did get to see Hermione and Harry a few times over the summer but, mostly they just sent each other letters. Ron missed seeing Hermione studying in the common room. Of course, Ron teased her about being such a bookworm and having perfect marks but, truth be told it was one of the things that Ron admired most about her. The funny thing was, Ron hadn't gotten mail from either one of his best friends. He had sent them each a few short letters when he'd been bored, and they were usually good about replying, but nothing came back.
Ron squeezed through the narrow hallway and down to the kitchen.
"Good morning, Ron." His mother said with a tired smile. She turned back to Ron's twin brothers and continued yelling. Ron had learned to block it out. His little sister, Ginny, came down soon after. She grabbed and apple, ate it quickly, and was gone without a word.
"Ron, what are you doing today?" His mother asked him after his red-faced brothers marched upstairs.
"I dunno..." He mumbled.
"Have you heard from Harry? Or that Granger girl?"
"No mum, I haven't heard from Harry or Hermione. I think I'll go to Diagon Alley... Help Fred and George out with the shop."
His mother frowned, but said nothing. Without saying anything else to his mom, Ron stood up and walked toward the fire place. Taking a handful of floo-powder along with him, he walked /into the fireplace, saying "Diagon Alley" loud and clear. He could feel his head spinning and before he knew it, he fell out of the grate in Diagon Alley.
He went straight to the ice cream parlor. He only had enough money to buy a small ice cream cone, which he ate miserably. As he slowly ate the chocolate ice cream with sprinkles, he began to think again. Ron hadn't felt this terrible, this depressed, in so long he had almost forgotten what feeling depressed was.
He took the last bite of the ice cream cone as he listed what could be making feel so worthless and lonely.
"One- I'm poor. Two- People know I'm poor. Three- I need more money. Four- I haven't heard from my best friends. Five- I'm in love with Hermione. Six- I can never have Hermione."
Ron ran his fingers through his hair. Ron was angry with himself for not having the courage to make a move on her and amused that his thoughts had ended with her once more.
"What could be better than ending every subject with the girl of your dreams?" He thought.
He rose from his seat, turned around, making his way to go to Quality Quidditch supplies. Quidditch, the best sport in the world, would surely cheer him up, it always did.
Then he saw something that made his stomach tighten. His skin drained of all color and he could feel his stomach in knots. Ron felt hot and somehow he couldn't breathe. He felt like a fish out of water, gulping for the air that he couldn't seem to swallow. He couldn't help but stare- it couldn't possibly be her. No matter how hard he tried to move, to turn around and look somewhere else, he could not manage to pull himself away from where he stood. He stared at Hermione's curly brown hair and perfect smile that he had been dreaming of, not too long ago. The same girl he'd loved for so many years was standing in the middle of Diagon Alley. Then, he felt a surge of rage rush though him. His skin was soon flushed with color. His red cheeks puffed out and his red fingers clenched into fists. "Why was she here with my best friend?" He thought. He didn't think things could be worse. Harry ran his fingers through Hermione's hair, kissing her.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THOSE?" A voice roared from the downstairs.
"Nothing, mum! Honest!" Two boys said at once.
"I TOLD YOU THAT YOU WOULD NOT BE SELLING THOSE!"
"But, mum, we're starting a joke shop."
"YOU'RE DOING WHAT?!"
"I hate this." Ron grumbled as he got out of bed, "I hate everything."
He dressed quietly. He hated his red hair and freckles. He couldn't stand being so tall and lanky. But most of all, he hated being absolutely poor.
Before making his bed, Ron lied down and stared at his ceiling. He felt as if he stared long enough the chipped paint might dissapear, the pealing posters would plaster themselves to the walls, and that maybe, just maybe, inch by inch, the walls would move back and the room would be a decent size to live in. Ron stuck his hand in his pocket and played with the few coins he had. He wished that there was some spell he could use that would double the amount of money his family. With that money he'd buy new school books, for once. If Ron were rich Draco Malfoy, his worst enemy, would have nothing to torment him about. He'd be able to buy Harry Potter, his best friend of five years, an amazing Christmas present. With a decent amount of money he'd have something to impress Hermione with. Ron wasn't suprised that his thoughts ended up with Hermione, they always had, and Ron felt they always would. He pictured her curly brown hair, her smile, and he could almost hear her laugh. Hermione, Harry, and Ron had been inseperable for the past five year, and although they had their share of bickering and fussing, they were best friends none the less. Ron hadn't seen them in about a week, that's when school had closed for the summer. Ron did get to see Hermione and Harry a few times over the summer but, mostly they just sent each other letters. Ron missed seeing Hermione studying in the common room. Of course, Ron teased her about being such a bookworm and having perfect marks but, truth be told it was one of the things that Ron admired most about her. The funny thing was, Ron hadn't gotten mail from either one of his best friends. He had sent them each a few short letters when he'd been bored, and they were usually good about replying, but nothing came back.
Ron squeezed through the narrow hallway and down to the kitchen.
"Good morning, Ron." His mother said with a tired smile. She turned back to Ron's twin brothers and continued yelling. Ron had learned to block it out. His little sister, Ginny, came down soon after. She grabbed and apple, ate it quickly, and was gone without a word.
"Ron, what are you doing today?" His mother asked him after his red-faced brothers marched upstairs.
"I dunno..." He mumbled.
"Have you heard from Harry? Or that Granger girl?"
"No mum, I haven't heard from Harry or Hermione. I think I'll go to Diagon Alley... Help Fred and George out with the shop."
His mother frowned, but said nothing. Without saying anything else to his mom, Ron stood up and walked toward the fire place. Taking a handful of floo-powder along with him, he walked /into the fireplace, saying "Diagon Alley" loud and clear. He could feel his head spinning and before he knew it, he fell out of the grate in Diagon Alley.
He went straight to the ice cream parlor. He only had enough money to buy a small ice cream cone, which he ate miserably. As he slowly ate the chocolate ice cream with sprinkles, he began to think again. Ron hadn't felt this terrible, this depressed, in so long he had almost forgotten what feeling depressed was.
He took the last bite of the ice cream cone as he listed what could be making feel so worthless and lonely.
"One- I'm poor. Two- People know I'm poor. Three- I need more money. Four- I haven't heard from my best friends. Five- I'm in love with Hermione. Six- I can never have Hermione."
Ron ran his fingers through his hair. Ron was angry with himself for not having the courage to make a move on her and amused that his thoughts had ended with her once more.
"What could be better than ending every subject with the girl of your dreams?" He thought.
He rose from his seat, turned around, making his way to go to Quality Quidditch supplies. Quidditch, the best sport in the world, would surely cheer him up, it always did.
Then he saw something that made his stomach tighten. His skin drained of all color and he could feel his stomach in knots. Ron felt hot and somehow he couldn't breathe. He felt like a fish out of water, gulping for the air that he couldn't seem to swallow. He couldn't help but stare- it couldn't possibly be her. No matter how hard he tried to move, to turn around and look somewhere else, he could not manage to pull himself away from where he stood. He stared at Hermione's curly brown hair and perfect smile that he had been dreaming of, not too long ago. The same girl he'd loved for so many years was standing in the middle of Diagon Alley. Then, he felt a surge of rage rush though him. His skin was soon flushed with color. His red cheeks puffed out and his red fingers clenched into fists. "Why was she here with my best friend?" He thought. He didn't think things could be worse. Harry ran his fingers through Hermione's hair, kissing her.