#the tale of beedle the bard

[sombrenightsky]

To hurt is as human as to breathe.

-J.K. Rowling, The Tales of Beedle the Bard (Hogwarts Library, #3)

[theladyofshalott1989]

Well, the Wizarding World in Orlando, Florida was positively spectacular. I've been wanting to go for years and it even somehow managed to surpass all of my expectations.

I recorded The Tales of Beedle the Bard show for all of you HP and HL lovelies who haven't been (yet). I hope you one day get to see this show live!

[szynkaaa]

I'm so excited to finally be able to share this!

The Tales of Beedle the Bard, rebind trade with @/floralbearies

This is my very first book trade since I joined the community May/June, me and Jessica always said ooh let's do a trade, and we finally made it happen! Thank you so much for trading with me and I hope we will do more in the future

About the bind:

purchased 2nd hand

text on the slipcase is my own handwriting! Wasn't sure if my cricut would be handle it with the textured brush I picked, but it turned out pretty well

Cover design is drawn by me on Clip studio paint, featuring three of the stories in the book. Can you guess which one they are?

it embarrassingly took me way too long to sit my ass down and design the cover, but once it started, it went pretty fast! I haven't read the book before so I also had to read it before I could come up with a good design. My personal favorite story is the one of the hairy heart

endpapers are marbled papers I purchased on etsy, I bought a bunch a while back and been dying to use them for some of my binds! Picked the red one because I originally wanted to pick red cloth but went for the gray in the end

[melissagovertsen]

“Mum use to read those to me as a kid!” -Ron Weasley

(Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows)

[fatherforgivethem]

“It was Death and he felt cheated.”

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“Jupiter could have never been a star, our sun took the recourses and didn’t leave much in its wake…”

..

“Jupiter isn’t a failure, it’s a falsehood of misguided hope. A personification of desperation.”

[lesbian-shadow]

My Options And Interpretations of "The Tales Of Beedle The Bard"

"The Wizard And The Hopping Pot" p1

The story: 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.” The son cursed his father’s age-softened mind,then threw the slipper back into the cauldron, resolving to use it henceforth as a rubbish pail. 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 mix a special poultice in that old cooking pot –” “Begone!” cried the son. “What care I for your brat’s warts?” And he slammed the door in the old woman’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 his 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. 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. “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, 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, went the brass-footed pot, and the wizard had not even started his porridge 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. Clang, clang, clang, went the cooking pot’s single brass foot upon the floor, but now its clamour 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 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. 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. 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 sprout- ing 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 plague of hungry slugs. The wizard could not sleep or eat with the pot beside him, 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 your 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. Part 2

[ursu-art]

The Death Tarot Card. Harry Potter. Deathly Hallows.

[zickmonkey]

I think someone should write Harry Potter Fanfiction where a trans man wizard gets the Elderwand.

[something-overnothing]

Death comes for us all in the end.

J.K. Rowling, The Tales of Beedle the Bard

[phoebezu]

HOW I UNWIND #page33 #pagina33

#AUGUSTBREAK2024 @SUSANNAHCONWAY

The Tales of Beedle the Bard

[grimalkinmessor]

Say what you want but The Warlock's Hairy Heart is peak romance idc what the haters say

[theuniverse-isinus]

The Tales of Beedle The Bard

[girlzoot]

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.  Beedle’s stories have helped generations of wizarding parents to explain this painful fact of life to their young children: that magic causes as much trouble as it cures.

---JK Rowling/The Tales of Beedle the Bard (Introduction)

[the-crowbar-was-my-kryptonite]

Inktober Day 15: Dagger

Many, many years ago, when we were both very small, I used to read my sister stories before bed. And not picture books, because that would be normal. No, I used to read her (and our brother when he was interested), stories from The Tales of Beedle the Bard. My favourite, by far, was always “The Fountain of Fair Fortune” because I like happy endings. Her favourites, however, were always the sad ones. Every time I read to her, I’d be holding back tears as I recounted “The Tale of Three Brothers,” or mild disgust as I told her the story of “The Warlock’s Hairy Heart.” Now, years later, when I saw the sketch she’d done for day 15, I was immediately transported back to those moments.

For those who’ve never heard the story, “The Warlock’s Hairy Heart” is about a warlock so worried about love making him weak that he literally rips his heart out of his chest and locks it in a casket. When he overhears people judging him for not being married, he decides to find a wife, and when he shows her what he’s done, she is so shocked that she demands he puts his heart back. The story ends with him killing both himself and the maiden after his heart rejects her love. This was one of my sister’s favourite bedtime stories. She was maybe 8 at the time.

This story is meant to teach children about the dangers of locking away feelings. I do wonder though, what would have happened if the warlock hadn’t carved the maiden’s heart out of her chest. What if she, seeing the dagger, had stabbed his heart first, before he was able to put it back in his chest. Would it have darkened her own heart? Or would she have simply killed a monster and moved on with her life? What would be the lesson then?

All art by @cool_beans_jw on insta. Ramblings by her weird sister.

[a-morningstar-120]

Parings: Sirius Black/Original Female Character.

Additional characters: James Potter, Lilly Evans, Remus Lupin.

Mild smut/sexual content.

Carina Allard wants to write a long and complicated essay on Animagi and tries recruiting Sirius, not knowing his secret that he hints at more than once. Maybe she’ll get it one day, but for now, his seeming secondhand knowledge would do.

They’re a Sirius thing, seriously, accept the siriusness of the situation.

Words, 4320

FFN

AO3

[ourbalancedlife]