Harry Potter ~ Classical Fairytales

Jack and the Beanstalk

A long time ago, a poor widow called Lily lived with her only son named Harry. There only possession of value, was there cow named Petunia. All they had to live on was the milk the cow gave every morning which they carried to the market and sold. However, one summer morning, Petunia gave no milk. They didn't know what to do.

"What shall we do, what can we do?" said Lily, Harry's widowed mother.

Harry faked a smile, "Cheer up, mother, I'll go and get work somewhere."

"We've tried that before, nobody would give you money for work," said his mother, "No, it won't work now. We must sell Petunia and try and hope we can work something out."

"All right, mother," says Harry, "its market-day today, I'll soon sell Petunia. Then we can work something out."

So he took the cow's halter in his hand and off he went. He had barely reached the end of the dusty, dirt road, when he met a funny-looking old man, with a long beard and wearing strange robes.

"Good morning, Harry."

Harry wondered how he knew his name, "Good morning to you."

"Well, Harry, and where are you off to?" said the man.

"I'm going to the market to sell my cow, Petunia, here," Harry answered.

"Oh, you look the proper sort of chap to sell cows," said the man, "I wonder if you know how many beans make five."

Harry smiled, "Two in each hand and one in your mouth."

"Right you are," said the man, "and here are the very beans themselves," he said pulling out his pocket a number of strange-looking beans. "Harry, as you are so sharp," the man says, "I don't mind doing a little swap with you-your cow for these beans."

"Nonsense!" says Harry, "I may not have much, but this cow is worth more than these beans!"

"Ah!" the old man said with a chuckle, "You don't know what these beans are for," said the man, "if you plant them during the night, by morning they will grow right up to the sky!"

"Really?" says Harry, "you don't say so."

"Yes, that is so. If what I say turns out to be lies, you can have your cow back."

"Right," say Harry, and hands over to the old man, Petunia's halter and pockets the beans.

Then Harry turned back and headed home. Since he hadn't gone very far, it wasn't dusk by the time he got to his door.

"What? Back already, Harry?" said his mother, "Oh, I see you haven't got Petunia, so you did manage to sell her. How much did you get for her?"

Harry smiled, "You'll never guess, Mother."

"No, you don't say so. Good boy! Five pounds? Ten? Fifteen? No, it can't be twenty!"

"I told you couldn't guess, what do you say to these beans; they're magical, plant them over-night and––"

"What!" says Harry's mother, "How were you such a fool, such an idiot, as to give away my Petunia, the best milker in the parish, with prime beef to cook, for a set of cheap beans? You shall have to beg for work! And as for your precious beans," Harry's mother said, just before grasping the beans and throwing them out of the window.

"Mother, please, you don't understand," Harry begged his mother to listen.

"Off to bed. Not sip shall you drink, and not a bit shall you swallow this very night," Lily said, "now go, before I say something I may regret."

So Harry went upstairs to his little room in the attic, while his mother was glad she didn't say what she was thinking, that she had wished Harry had died instead of her dear husband, James. Harry lay on the floor in the attic, for he had to bed, looking up at the ceiling. He was sad and very sorry, as much for his mother's sake, as for the loss of his supper.