Once upon a time, in a land across the sea, nestled between mountains high, a rider on a beautiful white horse left the conifer forest, entering a sprawling field. The sun’s rays reflected off the rider’s silvery hair. The steed, strong, fiery, heads to a trail, its horseshoes ringing merrily.
The rider is alone.
And lo and behold, there is a cottage nearby.
“Ring! Ring” The sound of red hot metal hit by a hammer fills the air as the rider stops their steed at the cottage, jumping off the saddle.
“Rap rap!” The rider’s fist hits the door.
“Open the door for me, oy! I lost my way pursuing game. Bring me some water!” The rider’s voice, akin to a silver bell’s tinkling, interrupts the metal ringing.
The doors creak, and out comes a lad, strong as an oak, springy as a willow, a sheen of sweat covering his face and arms, hammer and tongs in hands. Never before had the rider seen such handsome face, nobility of bearing.
“What do you want?” The blacksmith speaks.
The rider is standing, unsure of what she wanted, words having fled her mind. Even her great thirst forgotten, the rider looks upon the lad’s arms and shoulders, and then at the anvil on which the lad had worked. She can’t take her eyes off the handsome blacksmith.
“Give me your hand, if it is yours to give!” The rider bursts out. “You must become my husband!”
She pulls him to her by his hips.
“Oh no, madam.” The blacksmith is reluctant. “I can not make a decision without my uncle.”
“And where is your uncle, lad?” The rider wants to know. “I see no one else in here.”
“Oh, my lady, he is taking care of me.” The blacksmith looks at his toes. “He is in the city with his son, they return tomorrow.”
Once again the beautiful rider on a fiery silver horse leaves the wood and enters the sprawling field. Oh how merrily the horseshoes sing! And straight to the cottage she rides.
Gracefully she jumps off the saddle and heads to the door. Rap rap!
“Good people,” her melodious voice rings, “open the door for me!” There is a great insistence in her voice, a thirst much greater than the day before driving her on. “Open the door so my eyes can find solace once again, allow me to see my only pleasure!”
The door creaks open and a man rotund and bloated, ruddy in the face, steps out. “Oh, what do you bring, oh noble guest?”
“I bring you good fortune, I will change your life.” The rider speaks fervently. “I want your boy for a husband. Your nephew, I mean.” “Oh my word,” the rotund man mutters. “Who would have thought, madam? We are not worthy, my good queen. We do not deserve anything more than your mercy.” He looks back inside the cottage. “But please, listen to my words. Take my son, not my nephew. Like peas in a pod, they are, so alike.” The uncle sweats and spreads his arms. “And his work, metal both delicate and strong!”
“That, old man, is horrible advice.” The rider, Queen Fleur, rebukes him. “Do as I say and that is enough. Tomorrow morning, bring your nephew to my castle!”
“Wake up, nephew!”
His uncle’s voice tore him away from sleep, dreams of silver hair reflecting golden light.
“Wake up, it’s time! The Queen awaits! The feast, wine!” His uncle sounded gleeful. “It was so unexpected, but I hope everything goes well for you in the castle!”
His cousin Dudley is dragging him from bed. “Get dressed, cousin, get dressed! Just think, the royal castle, oh the fun!” He lays a hand on his shoulders. “You’re aiming so high, you’ll go far, further than we can follow.” His cousin laughs. “Oh, I wish you good luck.”
At the break of dawn, the three of them are on their way, enjoying the crisp, fresh air and light breeze. They cross the sprawling field and enter the dark conifer forest.
“Come, Harry, step up,” his uncle speaks with cheer, “mustn’t leave your new wife waiting. Why, even before you reach the castle, you will have forgotten your old home. So hurry up!”
“Uncle, there is one thing I don’t understand,” Harry turns to his uncle, “why do you have the knife in your hand?”
“A knife can come in handy, nephew,” his uncle chides him, “to defend from bandits, and to jab the eyes of evil snakes. Now hurry up!”
“And cousin, why are you carrying the axe?”
His cousin smiles at him. “That axe will cut into any bandit trying to prey on us, and chop off the limbs of evil beasts. Come, hurry up!”
And so they hurry up, until they reach a quiet clearing. “Ha!” His cousin seizes Harry. “You are the foulest of beasts, a treacherous snake!”
The vale itself cries at the murder foul, flocks of birds flee the grisly sight, the violence perpetrated by two envious men.
“And now you shall take your pleasure with the queen, my handsome son, her supple body, whatever you want!” Vernon cries in glee. “Embrace her in bed, run your hands through her silver hair, my handsome blacksmith!”
“Dad, what will we do with those?” Dudley points to the chopped off limbs and gouged out eyes.
“Don’t leave them here, son.” Vernon chuckles. “We don’t want anyone to put him back together.”
Dudley laughs at his father’s macabre joke.
“Best take them with us, and hide them. Make sure nobody finds them.”
They speak as they leave the evergreen forest. “You have nothing to worry about, son. You are exactly alike, as I said, two peas in a pod. Don’t you worry.”
The queen is eagerly looking out for them from the tallest tower, and sees them approach. She gathers her retinue, and goes to meet them on the road, her groom, and his uncle.
And so the lie passes undetected.
The wedding proceeds despite the crime that happened in the kingdom mere moments before, and the groom smiles and laughs all the time, stealing glances at his radiant bride. The feast goes on for three days, and there is music, dancing, every pleasure for the senses.
As the next day dawns, however, the queen approaches her husband, her retinue at her back. “Farewell, my lord, I must go, a greedy neighbour attacked our lands. I must punish the wicked villain. I am leaving now.” She looks resplendent in her armour, and her husband merely nods, captivated by the sight.
“If I return alive from this war, we shall renew our love.”
Her husband blushed at the pronouncement.
“So, remember me, husband, and stay true. Work diligently at the forge, make me a new crown!”
But what happened to the young lad, to Harry so gruesomely slain? From six open wounds he bled, deep in the woods, in that quiet clearing. Quite like a flood, his blood soaked into the green grass.
Cold falls the night and cold grows the corpse. Cursed was the moment the beautiful queen rode in from the forest, cursed, cursed, threefold cursed!
But then a curious song fills the clearing, and a bright light accompanies the appearance of fiery wings. A strange old man appears, his silver beard reaching his waist. Blue eyes twinkle over gold-rimmed glasses as he lifts the body lying in the grass onto his shoulder.
Into a cave, he walks and turns to his phoenix companion. “Take off, my friend, find Nicholas.” Then he turns to the other figure in the cave. “Do what you can, Poppy.”
“This is horrible, Albus! It’s beyond my ability to help.” The healer looks scandalized. “Who could have done it?”
“I have my suspicion, Poppy.” The old man scowls. “Make sure Harry does not deteriorate further.”
“What will you be doing?”
“I will get his eyes and limbs back.”
An old man with a cart approaches the royal castle, his silver beard tucked into his belt, and when people approach, he calls in a loud voice. “Behold, good folk, an anvil of pure silver, made by renowned alchemists! Treated with the finest tinctures!”
Up in the tower, Dudley turns towards his father. “Make haste, father. You would do well to get me this magic anvil. Whatever the price.”
Vernon approaches the old man. “How much for the anvil?”
“Oh, buy it, it is not expensive at all. My friend asked for a curious price, however. I can sell it for two legs”
“Legs?” Vernon exclaims. “Strange friends you have, old man. But I must have it. You can take the legs of our Harry, nobody needs them anymore.”
With those legs, Albus returns to the cave. “First part is done.”
“Good, Albus, I can use this. Now get me Živa’s Water.”
His friend Nicholas does Albus call. The old alchemist brings out his stone, a gem gleaming red, more precious than all the other stones in the world. Fawkes alights on his shoulders, and his tears fall on the stone.
Nicholas gives the transmuted liquid to Poppy, who smears it on the stumps of Harry’s legs, cleansing the body. The legs receive phoenix’s fire from the tears, and the body grows whole again, as if no chops had landed on the legs.
“Quick, Albus, hop to it!” Poppy shouts. “Get me also the hands and eyes!”
And so once again the old man arrives at the castle, pushing a cart. “Approach, good folk, and behold! The finest hammer you can ever see in this world! Made of the purest alchemically treated silver! It is so pure no work will get contaminated!” He holds out a gleaming pair of tongs. “And this silver tongs, treated by the best alchemists of the realm. It transfers no heat to you! Completely safe!”
“Father!” Dudley once again turns to Vernon. “See that hammer and tongs! But it, whatever the price! I must have those tools to make the crown for my wife!”
And so Vernon approaches the old man again. “How much for both the hammer and the tongs?”
“Oh, you will buy them for certain, dear sir. It is not expensive at all.” Albus smiles. “My friend told me to sell the hammer for two hands, and the tongs for two eyes.”
“Hands and eyes?” Vernon’s eyes bulged out. “Your alchemist friend is strange indeed. But I need to have those, so we have a deal! Take the hands and eyes of our Harry. Nobody needs them anymore, may they be of good use.”
Carrying those, Albus returns to the cave. “It is done, Poppy!
“Good, Albus, bring them here, and fetch me Živa’s Water again!”
Once again the beautiful phoenix sheds tears on the Philosophers’ Stone and old Nicholas hands the miraculous liquid to Poppy.
She touches each wound with the tears, allowing Fawkes’s fire to enter Harry’s hands and eyes, and before her eyes, the body grows whole again, as it had been before. Cleansed is the body, and fire is reignited in the sockets.
And so the lad looks around again, seeing none but himself.
The battle finished, the queen returns to her castle, triumphant, happily riding at the front of her army.
“And how are you, my dear husband?” She asks as she arrives. “Were you mindful of my request?”
“Oh, I have taken it to heart, for I love you.” Her husband smiled proudly. “See what I bought, my anvil, hammer, and tongs, made of purest silver, treated by the best alchemists, each one of a kind.”
The queen gestured towards the anvil. “Come, sit, my love. Go ahead, and for your love of me, forge our crowns. Show me how precious metal is by your hands wrought!”
He steps towards the anvil, grabs the heated metal with the tongs, and hits it with the hammer. As the hammer rings, it bursts into a song!
“Ring! Lie! Ring! Lie! He lies! Ring! You deceived the queen! Ring! Your cousin you killed! Ring! His eyes plucked out! Ring! Hacked off his limbs! Ring!”
“What a curious song this metal sings!” The queen exclaimed “But I don’t understand the words. The way it sounds is so strange. My husband, continue, carry on!”
“Ring! Lie! Ring! Lie! He lies! Ring! You deceived the queen! Ring! Her true groom you killed! Ring! His place you took! Ring!”
The queen looked at her husband. “Oh, how dreadful the song sounds! But you aren’t as you appear, husband. Continue, do go on, so I might hear more. Carry on!”
He has no choice, his arm rises as if guided by an invisible force.
“Ring! Lie! Ring! Lie! He lies! Ring! You deceived the queen! Ring! Your cousin in the forest you hid! Ring! Took his wife as your own! Ring!“
At those words, the queen mounts her horse and rides, gallops towards the forest, searching frantically, crying into the wind. “Where are you, my Harry, my beloved? Where are you?” A field sprawls around the wood, and from the wood, a queen and a young lad ride, on a fiery silver horse. Oh how merrily its horseshoes sing!
A second wedding is organized, a blushing groom a beautiful flower for his wife takes. Feasting for three days lasts, people dance to music, merrily seeking pleasure of the senses.
And what of the bloated uncle? And the treacherous snake, the cousin. Four wolves in the forest hunt, each carrying a leg they’ve foraged from two men’s bodies.
What they’d done to the young lad, eyes gouged out, limbs hacked off, they were condemned to suffer the same fate.
On wrath did queen Fleur lift her blade, and resolutely did her strikes fell, in a quiet clearing of the forest evergreen.
And what of the silver anvil, hammer, and tongs? What song shall they sing now? Thrice they sang, and no more. Without a trace they disappeared, and nobody ever saw or heard, of the silver anvil, hammer, and tongs.