The Tales of Beedle the Bard

"Oh! Let's see who's arrived!" Flitwick jumped down from his chair and clapped in welcome, his tone and movements extravagantly theatrical. Unfortunately, he was so short that standing on the floor made him look even shorter than when he had been sitting on the stool.

"Filius." Nelson stepped forward and greeted him with a nod.

"And who is this handsome gentleman?" Flitwick skipped over to stand before them. In truth, he moved at the pace of a walk, but his motions resembled a trot or a brisk march, making the little man seem full of energy. He looked up at Nelson beside Tom, smiling as he led them toward the table. "Aren't you going to introduce us?"

"Senior Flitwick, I'm Tom Riddle." Tom replied solemnly. Though he spent all day calling this disgusting and that idiotic, he was always full of respect for true power. Flitwick, champion of the dueling tournament, clearly met his standard for "the strong."

"Oh, I know you. Professor Slughorn likes you very much." With a push of his hand, Flitwick nimbly leaped back onto the chair he had been sitting on and snapped his fingers. Two chairs beside an empty table nearby wobbled through the air and landed behind the two boys.

Tom tossed the armful of bags he was carrying onto the floor.

Augusta squeezed in beside McGonagall, causing McGonagall to pause her conversation with the big boy. Turning to see Nelson and Tom, she closed the book in her hands, ignored Augusta's exaggerated winks from the side, and studied them through her glasses. "Nelson, Riddle, Merry Christmas. I hope Augusta hasn't caused you any trouble. She always speaks without thinking, and sometimes she's a little unhinged."

"Who are you calling unhinged?" Augusta teased the vulture lingering by her seat and complained indignantly.

"Seriously, I suggest you visit St. Mungo's. If you don't go now, you might have to go all the time once it gets worse." McGonagall rolled her eyes and waved an arm as casually as if she were shooing away a fly. "You even failed Charms in your O.W.L.s..."

"Don't say that in front of the juniors!" With agility beyond human limits, Augusta clapped a hand over McGonagall's mouth. Then she saw Nelson, Tom, and the big boy beside them looking around as though they had heard absolutely nothing. Her momentum drained away, and she sat down helplessly, muttering incomprehensibly. "What's there to learn in Charms anyway? What use is it..."

"Augusta, you can't say that!" Charms was Flitwick's greatest specialty. "You can't call a subject useless just because you aren't good at it."

"Hello, are you a Hogwarts student too?" Seeing the atmosphere around them growing tense, Nelson hurriedly extended his right hand toward the big boy standing awkwardly nearby. He looked over two meters tall, perhaps even three, and was doing his best to fold himself into one of the restaurant's delicate little chairs, which made for a rather comical sight. The contrast became even more striking when Flitwick appeared beside him. His hair was long, and his coat was covered in patches, though it had been washed very clean. In the middle of his round face sat an equally round bulbous nose, making him look honest and approachable.

Seeing Nelson's outstretched hand, he became flustered. He hurriedly held out his broad right hand, wiped it on his clothes, then gave Nelson a shy smile. He picked up a napkin from the table and vigorously scrubbed his hand as he spoke timidly. His voice did not match his height; the moment he opened his mouth, it was clear that he was still a fairly young child. "Y-yes. My name is Rubeus Hagrid. If nothing unexpected happens, I should be going to Hogwarts after this."

Watching that hand slowly reach toward him, Nelson broke into a wide grin. He rose, stepped forward, and firmly grasped Hagrid's huge hand, then leaned in and gave his shoulder a hearty pat. "Welcome to Hogwarts!"

The three older students stopped arguing and watched the two boys' somewhat awkward embrace with faintly pleased expressions. Hagrid looked delighted, saying animatedly, "I should enroll the year after next! Merlin's beard, my father originally thought I might not have any magical talent!"

"If you can be here, then you do," Tom said, nodding reservedly from the side. He flipped through the menu and poked at dishes with his finger under Flitwick's guidance. "I think you'd better join Slytherin. Slytherin is the best house, and Nal can help tutor you properly."

"I reserve judgment," McGonagall and Flitwick said in unison. Flitwick added, "But tutoring is certainly possible. We'll be graduating soon, after all."

"Hahaha..." Hagrid merely gave an honest, guileless laugh. He had ideas of his own.

Soon, the waiter brought their dishes. The six of them sat around the table and ate while continuing the conversation interrupted by the arrival of the two newcomers. McGonagall quickly finished eating, wiped her mouth, pressed her lips together, and opened the book she had closed earlier.

"So you all gathered here to read fairy tales?" Nelson accepted a small Tomato Tom handed him, pinched it between his fingers, and asked curiously.

"This isn't an ordinary fairy tale. This is The Tales of Beedle the Bard." McGonagall cleared her throat. "Many scholars who specialize in this book believe that the events within its stories have real-life origins. For example, people believe that Babbitty used advanced Transfiguration in her story—an Animagus transformation. There are also many wondrous spells, magical artifacts, and magical creatures in these tales that have never been discovered, possessed, or used in real life. Yet even to Wizards, they are extraordinarily magical. Many people have spent their entire lives without finding a single clue."

"But that only makes people want to explore them even more. No one could resist the temptation of profound magic, wondrous magical artifacts, or powerful and beautiful magical creatures," Augusta said. "We're no exception. In fact, we've already found some clues."

"But it is still only a book of fairy tales, Nal," Flitwick said seriously. "In fact, the clue we found was discovered over a hundred and thirty years ago, and it was proven to lead nowhere."

"I just like these stories." Hagrid wore his usual simple, honest expression. "My father has this book on his shelf. It kept me company throughout my childhood—I even learned to read from it. Mr. Dumbledore asked these seniors to bring me along for some fun. I never expected they had read this kind of book too. I thought they only read those profound magic books."

"Mr. Dumbledore? You know Dumbledore?" Nelson asked curiously.

"Yes. My father goes into the mountains every winter." Hagrid looked worried, but when he mentioned Dumbledore, his expression became reverent again. "Every time, he leaves me in Dumbledore's care. Now that I'm grown up, I feel I shouldn't trouble him anymore, and he thinks I need to spend more time with other people."

He swung an arm forcefully, showing off his sturdy bicep.

"Were you really born in twenty-eight? I'm still a little doubtful," Augusta said, looking up at Hagrid's arm with an expression of complete disbelief.

"All right, all right. He just has a large frame," McGonagall interrupted. "To be honest, I was already this tall in my first year."

"I rather like this story." Tom raised his head from the book and softly read the title of one of its tales: "The Warlock's Hairy Heart."

"Eugh..." Augusta made a disgusted face. "I think that one's really rather revolting."

"Actually, I think it's a very profound story." A nostalgic look appeared in McGonagall's eyes as she murmured, "A heart lacking love can bring only pain. Compared to love, many things simply aren't worth mentioning."

"Yes," Tom said, looking as though he agreed deeply. Then he casually asked, "And I'm a little curious. Does magic that lets someone become stronger by hiding their heart, or some other weakness, really exist?"

"In fact, the heart isn't a Wizard's weakness," Flitwick explained. "For healers at St. Mungo's who are proficient in healing magic, repairing a damaged heart might take only a second. But if you dig it out like they did in the book, then even a healer probably couldn't save you."

"Oh." Tom looked thoughtful. "So that's how it is."

"Well, many stories in The Tales of Beedle the Bard are full of metaphors. Besides the witch who turned into a rabbit that McGonagall just mentioned—oh, may I have one? It looks delicious." After receiving Tom's permission, Flitwick waved his hand, and a small Tomato flew into his mouth. He chewed with a blissful expression while continuing to explain to the two boys who had not read the book. "Besides that, The Hopping Pot may hint at advanced Alchemy, the kind capable of creating magical artifacts with independent consciousness. The Fountain of Fair Fortune may represent the prototype of Felix Felicis, a legendary spring said to bring good luck. And the most famous is The Tale of the Three Brothers... Oh, it's so good. I think I've fallen in love with this fruit."

Flitwick swallowed the small Tomato in his mouth—Tom: It's a vegetable!—then continued. Taking out his Wand, he drew a shining symbol on a napkin as he spoke. "There are three powerful Deathly Hallows in that story. Legend says that anyone who possesses all three can become the master of Death. They are the Elder Wand, which amplifies magical power and makes its wielder invincible; the Resurrection Stone, which can revive the dead and call people back from Death; and the Invisibility Cloak, which can evade everything and render its wearer completely invisible... Countless Wizards have searched tirelessly for these three Hallows. They use this symbol to represent their dream of seeking the treasure."

The final stroke of the Wand fell. On the napkin was a glittering symbol: a vertical line within a circle, piercing through a triangle. Looking at Tom's enraptured expression and Nelson's thoughtful one, Flitwick spoke slowly, his normally shrill voice sounding unexpectedly low.

"Still, it is only a story. And besides, a Wizard's strength cannot be sought from external things."

If you're interested, you can look through Rowling's The Tales of Beedle the Bard. Several of the stories in it are truly quite good. I particularly like the one about the Hairy Heart.