Disclaimer: I don't own J.K Rowling or 'The tales of Beedle the bard"
"Please Ron! Please read me a story" pleaded a jumpy thin seven-year old with bright hair red in two messy braids, slightly chubby cheeks, and big bright brown eyes that showed no tiredness at all even though it was suppose to be her bed time.
"No Ginny you know the rules when mum and dad are out to dinner you go to bed at eight Bill said so" said her eight-year old also red haired, blue eyed, and freckly faced brother. Ginny jumped out of her bed and ran towards her brother nearly tripping over her purple night gown. Ron was nearly close from turning off the lights but she stood right in front of him.
"Please Ron, Bill and Percy is studying, Charlie is on a date with that Kelly girl, and Fred and George are off somewhere so they won't know!" The lighting started not long after that making the boy in the blue stripped pajamas and his sister jumps a little surprising them.
"I can't sleep now with the lighting!" She said to him
"What do you want me to do" Ron was irritated that he was the one to put 'the little princess' to bed when he would rather read 'The adventures of Martin Miggs, the mad muggle' until nine.
"Read me a story please" she gave him the puppy-dog eyes that worked with their dad. He sighed and grumbled mumbling to himself as he went to the book case."What do you want to read tonight" he huffed. If he was reading to her he might as well pick out a book he might want to read. "Qudditch through the ages" he said with some hope in his voice.
"I've read that book a million times already." He had to agree with her since that was her favorite book and she would have made him re-read the Holy Head Harpie's part a million times.
"The adventures of Martin Miggs, the mad muggle."
"No."
"Cin-cin-Cinda-Cinderella?" He had never heard of the book before but it sounded gross.
"What is that?"
"Never mind but it sounds like an illness" he scanned through the books hoping not to find a boring baby one. " The tales of Beedle the Bard."
"Yes! Absolutely!" She squealed excitedly. She liked the book for two reasons, the first were for the interesting stories and the big amount of stories in their so she wouldn't have to go to bed so soon. She climbed back into and he sat at the foot of her bed like mum always did for him when he was her age.
"The Wizard and the hopping Pot" He read to Ginny.
There was once a kindly old wizard who used his magic generously and wisely for the benefit of his neighbors.
"He sounds like Grandpa Wealsey" She smiled.
"He does so don't interrupt" he told her.
Rather than reveal the true source of his powers, he pretended that his potions, charms and antidotes sprang ready-made from the little cauldron he called his lucky cooking pot.
"I like it better when soups, stews and chocolate syrup come out of mum's cooking pot" Ginny said licking her lips.
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,
"Oh, no, poor wizard" she shot up in her seat.
"Be quiet you've heard this part already" Ron was becoming slightly annoyed with the constant interrupting.
Leaving all his chattels
"What now!" he quietly yelled at the curious look Ginny had on her face.
"What do chattels mean?"she asked
"I don't know now let me get back to reading."
To his only son. This son was of a very different disposition ("Be quiet, I don't know what it means either" Ron said to the curious Ginny.) Those who could not work magic were, to the son's mind worthless, and he had often quarreled with his father's habit of dispensing magical aid to their neighbors.
"That's son is a big fat-"
"RON THAT'S NOT NICE!" Ginny scolded Ron before he had a chance to finish his sentence. Ginny never knew what Ron was going to finish with but she had heard her mum scold him before he had the chance to finish so it must have been bad.
Upon the father's death, the son found hidden inside the old cooking pot a small pack-age 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."
"He should of listened" Ginny said in a knowing kind of voice.
The son cursed his father's age-softened mind, then threw the slipper back into the cauldron, resolving henceforth as a rubbish pail.
"What would daddy do if we called him stupid" Ginny asked.
"The same thing he'll do to us as he did to Fred when he made me do the curse" Ron said" so don't say or you won't be able to sit for a week." Ginny shifted in her seat to make sure her bum was still ok before Ron continued.
That very night a peasant woman knocked on the front door.
"My granddaughter is afflicted by a crop of warts, sir" she told him." Your father used to ix a special poultice in that old cooking pot-"
"Begone!" cried the son" What care I for your brat's wart's?"
And he slammed the door in the old women's face.
At once there came a loud clanging and banging from his kitchen. The wizard lit his wand and opened the door, and there, to his amazement, he saw father's old cooking pot: it had sprouted a single foot of brass, and was hopping on the spot in the middle of the floor, making a fearful noise upon the flagstones.
"Told you" she smirked.
The wizard approached it in wonder, but fell back hurriedly when he saw that the whole of the pot's surface was covered in warts.
"Ewww."
"Be quiet Ginny!"
"Disgusting object!" he cried and he tried firstly to Vanish the pot, then to clean it by magic and finally to force it out of the house. None of his spells worked however, and he was unable to prevent the pot hopping after him out of the kitchen, and then following him up to bed,
Just like someone else I know he sighed thinking of Ginny.
clanging and banging loudly on every wooden stair. The wizard could not sleep all night for the banging of the warty old pot by his bedside, and next morning the pot insisted upon hopping after him to the breakfast table. Clang, clang, clang
"You're not doing it right" Ginny quickly pointed out.
"What do you mean" Ron asked.
"Dad always yells at the last clang."
"Oh, Bloody-"
"Please Ron!"
"Fine" he huffed and 'clanged' louder with each clang.
went the brass-footed pot, and the wizard had not even started his porridge
Ron licked his lips and clutched his stomach as it started to growl a little.
when there came another knock on the door. An old man stood on the doorstep. "Tis my old donkey, sir,' he explained. 'Lost, she is, or stolen, and without her I cannot take my wares to market, and my family will go hungry tonight.' 'And I am hungry now!' roared the wizard, and he slammed the door upon the old man"
"THAT'S MEAN" Ginny yelled angrily, she felt very sorry for the old man and very angry at the wizard. "I know he's just like the Malfoy's" he growled a bit.
"Yeah his hair is probably slimy too."
Clang, clang, clang went the cooking pot's single brass foot upon the floor, but now its clamor was mixed with the brays of a donkey and human groans of hunger, echoing from the depths of the pot. 'Be still. Be silent!' shrieked the wizard, but not all his magical powers could quieten the warty pot, which had hopped at his heels all day, braying and groaning and clanging, no matter where he went or what he did. That evening there came a third knock upon the door and there on the threshold stood a young woman sobbing as though her heart would break. 'My baby is grievously ill,' she said""Won't you please help us? Your father bade me come if troubled-' But the wizard slammed the door on her."
Ron tried desperately not to show his sadness for the baby while Ginny looked extremely sad and she almost looked like she would cry. Almost.
And now the tormenting pot filled to the brim with salt water, and slopped tears all over the floor as it hopped, and brayed, and groaned, and sprouted more warts""
"That's just gross" Ron commented.
Though no more villagers came to seek help at the wizard's cottage for the rest of the week, the pot kept him informed of their many ills. Within a few days it was not only braying and groaning and slopping and hopping and sprouting warts, it was also choking and retching, crying like a baby, whining like a dog, and spewing out bad cheese and sour milk and a plaque of hungry slugs.
"Now THAT'S just gross" Ginny restated her brother's last comment.
The wizard could not sleep or eat with the pot beside him.
"What about using the toilet?"
"I don't know Gin, maybe he would just go outside and get it over with."
But the pot refused to leave, and he could not silence it or force it to be still. At last the wizard could bear it no more. 'Bring me all your problems, all your troubles, and woes!' he screamed, fleeing into the night, with the pot hopping behind him along the road into the village. 'Come! Let me cure you, mend you, and comfort you! I have my father's cooking pot, and I shall make you well!
And with the foul pot still bounding along behind him, he ran up the street, casting spells in every direction. Inside one house the little girl's warts vanished as she slept;
Ginny cheered with absolute delight at that part.
the lost donkey was Summoned from a distant briar patch and set down softly in its stable;
Ron smiled: he had always liked animals and he would like an owl but most likely he would get that lame rat scabbers. That rat was afraid of his own shadows.
the sick baby was doused in dittany and woke, well and rosy.
Ginny squealed with delight and cooed over the thought of a rosy cheeked baby. If she ever had a kid she would want it to have rosy cheeks so it would be adorable.
At every house of sickness and sorrow the wizard did his best, and gradually the cooking pot beside him stopped groaning and retching, and became quiet, shiny, and clean.
"Good" stated Ron who was really starting to become a little nascence from the description of the pot before.
'Well, Pot?' asked the trembling wizard as the sun began to rise. The pot burped out the single slipper he had thrown into it.
Now that isn't something you see everyday even for a young witch and wizard.
And permitted him to fit onto the brass foot. Together, they set off back to the wizard's house, the pot's footstep muffled at last. But from that day forward the wizard helped the villagers, like his father before him, lest the pot cast of his slipper, and begin to hop once more. The end
"I liked the story a lot" Ginny said" it was very funny, what's the next one?"
"No more you should be in bed."
"Come on Ron please!"
"Alright I guess."