Love & Death (The Poisonous Princess Book 4)

Redamancy

14th February 1996

For Valentine's day, Pr Umbridge decided to make a special lesson about the topic of love. It seem that studying Defence Against Dark Arts with a kid's book was not yet enough, because this time she brought the tales of Beedle the Bard and read for us like bed-time story.

"Good morning children. Tell me, who amongst you knows the tale of The Warlock's Hairy Heart ?"

Most of the students rose their hand, of corse. Even me, I had read wizarding most famous tales. Potter was one of those who didn't. As well as two muggle-borns.

"Today I will read it for you and we could discuss about it afterwards. So install yourself confortably and be concentrate." The round lady processed.

Seated my my side, Draco placed his book "Basic for beginners" back in his bag.
With a big smile I whispered to him :

"I love that tale."

"Me too. It ends badly."

"Like Romeo and Juliet." I answered.

Pink-lady took a seat to become a master storyteller and the reading started.

"There was once a handsome, rich and talented young warlock who..."

That was obviously a story for Draco, I turned my face to him and winked. He smiled back.
When I discovered that tales I was fascinated by the possibility to erase feelings and I didn't really believe in love in any form. I thought attachments was only source of pain. But now that I reheard it, that felt much more meaningful.

"The young warlock resolved never to fall prey to such weakness that love is, and employed Dark Arts to ensure his immunity. Unaware of his secret, his family laughed to see him aloof and cold. 'All will change' they prophesied.
...In due course, the warlock's parents aged and died. Their son did not mourn them, on the contrary he considered himself blessed by their demise. Now he reigned alone in their castle. Having transferred his greatest treasure to the deepest dungeon, he gave himself over to a life of ease and plenty.
...Therefore when the warlock overheard two of his lackeys discussing their master one day, fierce was his anger and chagrin. The first servant expressed pity for their master who, with all his wealth and power, was yet beloved my nobody.
So he resolved at once to take a wife and that she would be a wife superior to all others. She would possess astounding beauty, she would spring from magical lineage so that their offspring would inherit outstanding magical gifts; and she would have wealth at least equal to his own.
The very day after he decided to seek her, a maiden answering his every wish arrived in the neighbourhood.
She was a witch of prodigious skill..."

There, I let my fingers ventured to softly stroke my boyfriend's hand that leant on his knees. Then we took hands and intertwined our fingers secretly under the desk. A grin extended on my face, but I kept focused on the telling.

"...The maiden sat upon a throne beside the warlock, who spoke low employing words of tenderness he had stolen from poets, without any idea of their true meaning. The maiden listened, puzzled and finally replied 'You speak well, Warlock, and I would be delighted by your attention if only I thought you had a heart'. The warlock smiled and told her that she need not to fear on that score. Bidding her follow, he led her from the feast and down to the locked dungeon where he kept his greatest treasure. Here in an enchanted crystal casket was the warlock's beating heart."

I smiled with emotion. That was so romantic.

"Long since disconnected from eyes, ears and fingers, it had never fallen prey to beauty or music. The maiden was terrified by the sight of it, for the heart was shrunken and covered in black hair. 'Oh what have you done ? Put it back where it belongs, I beseech you!' The maiden lamented.
Seeing that it was necessary to pleased her, the warlock drew his wand, unlock the crystal casket, sliced open his own breast and replaced the heart in the empty cavity.
But it had grown strange during its long exile, blind savage in the darkness to which it had been condemned and its appetites had grown powerful and perverse.
Later the guests at the feast began to search for their hist and the maiden. They found the dungeons at last and a most dreadful sight awaited there.
The maiden lay dead upon the floor, her breast cut open, and beside her, the mad warlock holding in one hand a scarlet heart which he licked and stroked, vowing to exchange it for his own. Before the horror-struck eyes of his guests, the warlock cast aside his wand and seized a silver dagger. Vowing to never be mastered by his own heart, he hacked it from his chest.
For one moment, the warlock knelt triumphant with a heart clutched in each hand, then fell across the maiden's body and died."