27-11-2012, 12:03 PM
The Tales of Beedle the Bard
1The Tales of Beedle.pdf (Size: 1.95 MB / Downloads: 344)
Introduction
The Tales of Beedle the Bard is a collection of
stories written for young wizards and witches.
They have been popular bedtime reading for
centuries, with the result that the Hopping Pot
and the Fountain of Fair Fortune are as familiar
to many of the students at Hogwarts as
Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty are to Muggle
(non-magical) children.
Beedle’s stories resemble our fairy tales in
many respects; for instance, virtue is usually
rewarded and wickedness punished. However,
there is one very obvious difference. In Muggle
fairy tales, magic tends to lie at the root of the
hero or heroine’s troubles – the wicked witch has
poisoned the apple, or put the princess into a
hundred years’ sleep, or turned the prince into a
hideous beast. In The Tales of Beedle the Bard, on
the other hand, we meet heroes and heroines
who can perform magic themselves, and yet find
it just as hard to solve their problems as we
do.
There was once a kindly old wizard who used his
magic generously and wisely for the benefit of his
neighbours. Rather than reveal the true source of
his power, he pretended that his potions, charms
and antidotes sprang ready-made from the little
cauldron he called his lucky cooking pot. From
miles around people came to him with their
troubles, and the wizard was pleased to give his
pot a stir and put things right.
This well-beloved wizard lived to a goodly
age, then died, leaving all his chattels to his only
son. This son was of a very different disposition
to his gentle father. Those who could not work
magic were, to the son’s mind, worthless, and he
had often quarrelled with his father’s habit of
dispensing magical aid to their neighbours.
Upon the father’s death, the son found hidden
inside the old cooking pot a small package
bearing his name. He opened it, hoping for gold,
but found instead a soft, thick slipper, much too
small to wear, and with no pair. A fragment of
parchment within the slipper bore the words “In
the fond hope, my son, that you will never need
it.”