"Merlin, my mum would love these!" exclaimed Rose as Narcissa finished the tale. "I wonder if she knows the history of polyjuice potion? After all, she accidentally made herself a cat her second year!"
"I am not sure. That story does seem rather relevant for Hermione. You should share it with her. Shall we do another?"
"Yes please! Surprise me," answered Rose.
Troilus Prince had a daughter who was beautiful beyond all measure. She was pureblooded and intelligent, but so proud and haughty that no suitor was good enough for her. She wished to graduate Hogwarts before marrying, and so her father, who doted on her every whim allowed her to graduate in a time where many a young witch was forced into marriage prior to finishing her schooling. She was head girl after two years as a Ravenclaw Prefect. Troilus indulged his daughter, and she sent each suitor away, one after the other and ridiculed them as well.
After her graduation, Lord Prince wished his daughter marry soon and marry well, for he feared he wouldn't live to see his grandchildren, Bronwyn being his only child. He announced a great feast and invited from far and near, all the young pureblooded wizards likely to marry. They were all ordered into a row according to their rank and standing in society, first the titled lords, then the younger sons, followed by the wealthiest families, and then the lesser families of poor yet noble bloodlines.
Bronwyn was led through the ranks, but to every one she had some objection. One, a Bullstrode, was too fat, another too tall, a third too short, and a fourth, Malfoy, too pale, a Wealsey too red, and so forth down the line. So she had something against every one, but she made herself especially merry over a good wizard who stood quite high up in the row, who had been head boy a few years ahead of her and whom she had known at Hogwarts. He had out-dueled her in a dueling club tournament and she had never forgotten the Hufflepuff who beat the Ravenclaw, for they had been friendly, if not friends prior to the incident when her pride was forever wounded.
"Well," she cried and laughed, "He has broomhead!" And indeed, his reddish brown hair stuck out at all angles, for he had ridden a hippogriff to arrive on time. From that time on, he was known as Broomhead Smethwyck.
But Lord Prince, when he saw that his daughter did nothing but mock the people and despised all the suiters who were gathered, was very angry and swore that she should have for her husband the very next man that came to his doors.
A few days later, a muggle fiddler came and sang beneath the windows, trying to earn a small alms. When Troilus heard him, he said, "Let him come up." So the muggle came in, in his dirty ragged clothes and sang before the witches and wizards in the hall, and when he had ended, he asked for a trifling gift. Lord Prince said, "Your song has pleased me so well, that I will give you my daughter here to wife."
Bronwyn shuddered, but her father said, "I have taken a wizard's oath to give you to the very next man to enter our gates and I will keep it." All she could say was that she would fufill the oath for her father's life, and the priest was brought, and she had to let herself be wedded to the muggle on the spot. When that was done, her father said, "Now it is not proper for you, a muggle's wife, to stay any longer in my fortress, you must go away with your husband."
The muggle man led her out by the hand, and she was obliged to walk away on foot with him, carrying only her wand and a small parcel of clothing given to her by a house elf on her way out. She looked longingly at the winged horses her family kept in their stables, and longed for even an uncomfortable broom to ride as they walked further and further from her childhood home. Travel was uncomfortable, and she was obliged to hide her magical abilities from her husband, so it was also very difficult.
When they came to a large forest, she asked, "To whom does this large forest belong?"
"It belongs to Lord Smethwyck, if you had taken him, it would have been yours."
"Ah, unhappy girl that I am, if I had but taken Elwold Smethwyck!" she moaned.
Afterwards, they came to a meadow, teeming with magical blooms of all kinds, a potion maker's dream. "To whom does this beautiful meadow belong?"
"It belongs to Lord Smethwyck, if you had married him, it would have been yours." Taunted her new husband, who had taken great pleasure upon hearing of her rejected suitors at their wedding and had been gloating about his fortunate marriage since.
"Ah, unhappy girl that I am, if I had only married Elwold Smethwyck!" And she truly thought it would have been smarter of a Ravenclaw to have married the man.
When they came to a large castle overlooking a village, she asked again. "To whom does this fine castle and village belong?"
"It belongs to Lord Smethwyck, and if you had accepted him, it would have been yours."
"Ah, unhappy girl that I am, if I had but accepted Elwold Smethwyck!"
"It does not please me," said the muggle, "to hear you always wishing for another husband. Am I not good enough for you?" And Bronwyn sighed and wished she had listened to her father and married a wizard, and not this muggle who taunted her on a regular basis.
At last they came to a very little hut, and she said, "Oh goodness, what a small house, to whom does this miserable mean hovel belong?"
The fiddler answered, "This is my house and yours where we shall live together."
Bronwyn had to stoop in order to go in at the low door. "Where are the house elves, er… servants?"
"What servants?" answered her muggle husband. "You must yourself do what you wish to have done. Make a fire at once and set the water to cook my supper. I am quite tired."But Bronwyn knew nothing about lighting fires without her wand or cooking. The muggle man had to lend a hand himself to get anything done, and when they had finished their scanty meal, they went to bed. However, he forced her to get up quite early in the morning in order to look after the house and the small garden from which all their food came.
For a while they lived in this way as well as might be, but soon winter came upon them and they came to the end of all their provisions she had painstakingly grown in their garden through the end of summer. Then her husband, Elias, for she called him by his name now, said, "Wife, we cannot go on any longer eating and drinking here and earning nothing. You weave baskets." He went out, cut some willows, and brought them home before going out to try and earn some money with his fiddle. Wiping the tears of frustration from her eyes, she began to weave, but the tough willows wounded her delicate hands and she wished for her pairs of dragonhide gloves she had left at her father's castle for surely they would protect her hands. She was cold and hungry and for a few days alone, which made her work a little less difficult although she knew no spell which would weave baskets of the willows.
Eventually her husband returned. "I see this will not do, you had better spin, perhaps you can do that better." She sat down and tried to spin, but the damage from the willows led the thread to be stained with blood and ruined. "See," said Elias. "You are fit for no sort of work. I have made a bad bargain with you. Now we will try and make a business with pots and earthenware. You must sit in the market-place and sell the ware," he ordered revealing the cart load of pots he had received for a particularly lucrative trip with his fiddle.
"Alas," thought Bronwyn. "If any witch or wizard were to come to the market and see me sitting there selling, how I wish I might die of embarrassment."
But it was of no use, and she trudged to market the next day to try and make some money for food. And at first she was very successful, for she enchanted the pots so that they not break or become too dirty or contaminate what they contained. And people were glad to buy her wares because she was beautiful and sincere, and so they paid her what she asked. Many even gave her money and left the pots as well, so they lived the rest of the winter on what she had earned as long as it lasted. But then her husband purchased more, and the very first day she went to take them to market, she was just setting off when a herd of hippogriffs stampeded across the road she was traveling and all of her pots were destroyed in her eagerness to escape their dancing hooves. Sitting among the pots, she wept for they were broken beyond reparo and she did not know what to do.
When she arrived home with the few items she could salvage, namely their cart, he was infuriated and refused to believe her misfortune. "What of wild horses that would destroy my pots. Leave off crying, I see very well that you cannot do any ordinary work, so I have been to Lord Smethwyck's castle and have asked that they find you a place as a kitchen maid. And they will take you in exchange for food.
So Lady Bronwyn Prince, head girl of Hogwarts, pureblooded lady, became lower than a house elf to the very wizard she had rejected. She had to be at the cook's beck and call and do the dirtiest work that even the house elves refused to do. In both her pockets she placed little jars in which she was allowed to take home her share of the leavings, and upon this they lived.
During this time, she slowly came to realize she was likely with child, and although she kept it from her husband, she was fearful for her dear little halfblooded to be born. The life of a halfblooded witch or wizard was a hard one, but not quite so hard as a muggleborn. She felt guilty keeping back the larger portion for herself, but surprisingly, her husband never complained with the meager portions of food she brought back from the castle nightly, and while she wished for a warmer fire, or a multitude of warming charm, she took comfort in the fact that her husband gave off enough heat to keep her from freezing overnight.
Now, it happened that the wedding of Lord Smethwyck was to be celebrated, so during the feast, Bronwyn went up and placed herself by the door of the hall to look in on her old friends and classmates in attendance, for she knew a great many of the guests. When all of the candles were lit, and the guests arrived, it was full of the pomp and splendor of pureblood tradition which she was familiar. She thought of her lot with a sad heart, and cursed the pride and haughtiness which had humbled her and brought her to lowly muggle poverty.
The smell of the delicious dishes was enough to make her mouth water, but the small morsels she had in her jars should be saved for her husband who had never tasted such delicacies. Besides, her stomach had rebelled her lately so it was light fare only for her.
All at once, Elwold Smethwyck entered, clothed in velvet and silk with gold chains about his neck. And his eyes spotted her standing by the door, so he seized her hand and would have danced with her, but she refused, pulling back, fearful of being recognized as more than just a beautiful servant. However, her struggles were to no avail, and he drew her into the hall, where she was surely recognized, and where the string, which she held her pockets about her waist broke, and the jars fell to the floor, breaking. The soup and scraps in her pockets fell and when people saw, they laughed at the comical scene. Ashamed, she ran out the door and would have run away, but suddenly a figure apparated in front of her, blocking her escape path. Looking up, she saw her husband, and glancing to the wand in his hand, promptly fainted away.
Upon her revival, she shrank back from the man with her husband's face and figure who was wearing the rich clothes of a gentleman, yet holding a wand in his hand. "Do not be afraid, for I am Elias, who has been living with you in that wretched hovel. For love of you, I disguised myself so, and I also was the one who drove the hippogriffs in front of your cart and smashed the pots. This was all done to humble your pride, and to punish you for the insolence with which you mocked me and the other suitors. His face suddenly morphed to that of Elwold Smethwyck.
She wept bitterly and said. "I may have done great wrong and be unworthy to be your wife, but you are no true hufflepuff!"
"The hat strongly considered me for Slytherin," he laughed. "Be comforted, the evil days are past, and now we will celebrate our wedding." And the house elves arrived to put her in the most splendid clothing, and her father, and all of the wizards and witches she knew came and wished her happiness in her marriage with Elwold Smethwyck.
Eventually, Bronwyn did forgive her husband for his deception, having been in love with him for some time. And their children were among the brightest graduates of their times. And luckily, none of them were metomorphmagi like their father and completely unable to pull such wretched pranks on their mother.