RONS DRIVING TEST

 

Rating: PG
Genre: Comedy
Setting: Ministry of Magic Test Centre
Main Characters: Ron

Note from the Authoress: This is a “comedy of errors” (excuse my Shakespearean…I think its Shakespearean anyway ^_^) involving Ron borrowing his dads car again, but this time, he gets caught in the act and has to take a test to qualify him for driving it. It’s a vague celebration story, written to commemorate my driving test passing! Also, I apologise for misleading people. I had originally intended this to be a short story, however, it seems I have in fact ended up making it into a full story ^_^.

 

Part 2

 

Fascinated by the different engravings that decorated the vast hallways Ron followed his mother and the ministry member through the halls towards the test centre. All around him wizards were doing various things. Ron gazed around him, as he had never set foot inside the ministry of magic before, even although his father worked there. He found himself thinking how easy this whole test thing was going to be. He glanced sideways at his mother, who still held the look of deep fury. The small group turned right and headed down another passage, less elaborate than the main passageway. Ron looked around interested at the doors leading from this passage. He saw the apparition room, where there was an argument just outside the door. He only caught a snatch of the conversation as he passed by. It seemed that one of the test takers had disobeyed the examiners. They carried on down the passage, passing a door labeled “magic carpet tests”.  Ron felt slightly confused by this, as magic carpets were illegal in Britain. They passed numerous other doors as well, and eventually Ron found himself looking at the magical car tests door. The junior ministry member opened the door, and waved Ron and Mrs. Weasley inside. The inside of the office was drab and dull compared to the elaborate carvings in the other halls. It was a small and pokey room. All that was inside was a rather battered coffee machine and two armchairs, the fabric they were covered in ripped in more than a dozen places. A small, and badly scratched coffee table stood between the chairs. The wallpaper on the walls was faded, and peeling and the carpet sported several burns, probably from cigarette ends. The ceiling was stained a murky brown, from the smoke which had drifted up to the ceiling. The room itself smelled musty, and ancient. Ron picked his way across the carpet, sitting gingerly down on the edge of an armchair. Mrs. Weasley looked around, an air of distaste on her face. The junior ministry member saluted smartly, and turned on his heel, leaving them alone. For the first time since she had caught him, Mrs. Weasley spoke.

 

“I hope you’re ashamed of yourself! Stealing a car. Who knows what you’ll steal next!” Ron rolled his eyes secretly, automatically blocking out the sound of his mothers voice. Instead he fixed his gaze on a door, so discolored it was hard to pick it out from the walls. As he watched it swung slowly open. A tall, ropey looking man lurched out. A scowl was fixed on his face as he surveyed the room. He had a cigar lit in his left hand. As Ron watched him, he flicked ash from the end, spilling it on the floor, and adding more char marks to the collection already patterning the faded carpet. Mrs. Weasley turned to face the newcomer.

“About time too,” she muttered. The scowl on the mans face intensified. He pointed towards Ron.

 

“That the candidate” he growled. His voice was rasping, the result of years of cigars, in Ron’s opinion. His mother nodded curtly, to confirm that Ron was taking the test. The man stood back, pointing into the room he had come out of. He motioned to Ron.

 

“Go in. You can wait out here” he directed the second statement towards Ron’s mother. She looked put out about having to stay in the cramped little room. With a sinking feeling, Ron past the man and entered the room.

 

If anything this new room was worse than the waiting room. It was narrower, for a start. The walls and ceiling were choked with thick yellow color, from the cigar smoke. The carpet was practically burnt away by the ashes from the cigars. Ron was certain he could see floorboards under piles of ash, where the carpet had burnt away.  The only pieces of furniture in this room were a huge bulky desk, taking up practically a whole wall, although the room was so small it was hard for any piece of furniture not to take up one wall. Behind it was a chair, made of wood, and rotted at the arms. Littering the desk were piles of creased paper. Ron mentally thought about what a health hazard the paper was. The man walked behind the desk, putting his cigar into a half hidden ashtray. He spoke in a bored, yet harsh, voice.

 

“I’m Mr. Rodgers; I will be your instructor this morning. Sign here” he practically threw a piece of parchment at Ron, glaring at him. Ron picked up a practically destroyed quill, and skimmed through the writing on the parchment. It was merely a lot of legal stuff. He signed at the bottom and looked up at Mr. Rodgers. He pointed to a door, again practically indistinguishable from the wall. It was past the desk. Ron walked through the door, finding himself out in a square. The dazzling morning sun was blinding after the murkiness of the test room. He blinked, and as his eyes became adjusted to the light, he saw a car in the middle. It was a mini, painted in bright rainbow colours. Pink flowers covered the bonnet and front doors. Ron stared in distaste. But he heard Mr. Rodgers cough behind, and walked across to the mini, and with a sigh of pained annoyance at having to drive a car with pink flowers on it, he opened the door and got in.

 

END OF PART 2