Fic: The Goose That Laid the Golden E(ugh! That's Horrid!)ggs

[bookishwench]

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The Goose That Laid the Golden E(ugh! That's Horrid!)ggs

“That was most definitely not what I had in mind,” Hermione muttered as she entered the tent, closely followed by Ron and Harry.

All of them looked much the worse for wear. Although they were still safely ensconced in the little alleyway in Rome, their spirits had deflated since the previous day.

“What was that stuff?” Ron asked.

“I’m guessing very old, stagnant holy water,” Hermione said.

“It kind of burns,” Ron said, scratching his arms absently.

“Yes, well, we’ll assume that’s because of it being dormant in those pipes for several centuries and not due to your being some sort of unholy demon or something,” Hermione said, a slight smile pulling at her lips in spite of herself. “Of course, I’m not sure your mother would necessarily agree.”

“Nah,” Ron said, flopping down on the sofa and pulling out his wand. He began using it to dry himself off. “Mum’s certain if anyone in the family is part-demon, it’s the twins. I’m the innocent one.”

Harry snorted a laugh.

“Come off it,” Ron said, looking over at him while suctioning water out of his socks. “Bill’s part werewolf, Charlie works with eerie-looking reptilian dragons, Percy’s in league with the ministry, Fred and George use illegal charms all the time, and Ginny’s just downright dangerous and has been since the age of two. That makes me the poor little lost lamb of the lot.”

“I rather highly doubt that,” Hermione said, sitting in one of the chairs and following Ron’s example by drying herself off.

“Okay, so I’m going to be the one who actually asks what all that was about,” Harry said, taking off his sodden shoes.

“Booby traps,” Hermione said.

“I got that bit somewhere around the point when it appeared to be raining inside the Vatican library, but why? What were they trying to protect?” Harry asked.

“Not sure, but definitely not a Horcrux,” Hermione said firmly. “I’d suspect that, if that was indeed holy water, and I’m nearly certain it was, they were trying to ward off any evil influences that might try to infiltrate that section.”

“So why wouldn’t a Horcrux be stuck in there, then?” Ron asked.

“Because a Horcrux is pretty much the definition of an evil object,” Hermione said. “We haven’t quite figured out how to destroy one yet—“

“More’s the pity,” Ron grumbled.

“But I’m guessing that throwing blessed water on it wouldn’t do it a world of good,” Hermione said.

“Do you think it might melt it?” Ron said, looking up hopefully.

“To be honest, I already tried that at the village church in Ottery St. Catchpole before we left,” Hermione said. “It did smoke a little, but that was it. Also, the vicar wasn’t exactly happy with me when he found me dipping a locket in the baptismal font. I think I’ve been officially banned from setting foot on all property owned by the Church of England.”

Harry laughed. Hermione really had got much better about allowing herself to risk being in trouble for the sake of doing anything that really needed to be done, but he would have paid a mountain of Galleons to see the look on her face when she was thrown out of St. Hubertus’s.

“It really was rather embarrassing,” Hermione admitted, starting to dry her jumper.

“I’d bet,” Ron said, smirking.

“So you don’t think there’s anything in there that would be useful?” Harry asked carefully. “In the library, I mean.”

“Oh, I’m certain there’s a great deal, but I doubt we’d be able to find it in less than a couple centuries,” Hermione said with infinite regret.

“Right,” Ron said, looking downcast.

Harry knew Ron was hoping for at least one more day in Rome before they returned to Britain and its permanent atmosphere of gloom. The break had done them all good, Harry was sure of it, but it seemed to have boosted Ron’s spirits most of all.

“I think we’ve reached another dead end,” Hermione said. “It wasn’t a bad idea, though, and maybe we can get a decent breakfast from the baker tomorrow morning before we go off to the next place.”

“Do we have any Italian money left?” Ron asked. “Actually, now I think of it, did we ever have any?”

“I brought some lira with me along with a few bills for most of the other countries on the continent, just in case,” Hermione said, reaching for her beaded bag and sorting through yet another pile of objects. “Not much, only a bit, but if we’re leaving then it should be safe to spend it tomorrow.”

“Why haven’t we used it before now?” Ron asked, looking put out.

“Because once it’s gone, that’s it,” Hermione said. “There isn’t any more. It was only for an emergency.”

“Being hungry is most definitely an emergency,” Ron said firmly.

“We’ve cadged a good bit from the bins, some pretty excellent stuff, really,” Hermione said.

Harry had to agree. In their two days, they’d gotten some pretty fresh day old bread and even a bit of prosciutto to toast up, but Ron still looked doubtful.

“It would be like the goose with the golden eggs,” Hermione said, her tone a bit annoyed. “Don’t demand too much or we’ll wind up with nothing.”

“Golden eggs? What, like from the second task?” Ron asked.

“No, although that might have been where they got the idea for it. It’s actually quite a short little story, one of Aesop’s,” Hermione said.

“Well, we’ve got time for a short story before we turn in, don’t we?” Ron asked.

“I would think so,” Hermione agreed, smiling a bit. “Once…”

“…upon a time, or whatever that would be in Greek,” Ron said.

“Yes, there lived a man and his wife who were poor country folk,” Hermione said.

“There really aren’t too many rich country folk in these, are there?” Ron asked, considering.

“I suppose not, at least not in these stories,” Hermione said. “Wealth would most likely have been associated with town life, though of course poverty could exist there as well. It wasn’t until basic luxuries were available for Muggles outside of cities and towns that having a place in the country would have been a positive thing. Usually, lack of civilization, especially in Aesop’s time, would have been both dangerous and unpleasant, something to be avoided if one could.”

“Right, so they’re not living at the queen’s summer home in the country,” Ron said. “They’re farmers or some such?”

“Exactly,” Hermione said, “and one kind of the animals they kept was geese.”

“And I get reminded of that horrific, headless, masochistic Christmas goose yet again,” Ron said, shuddering.

“The couple really wasn’t interested in eating the geese, though, as they provided them with eggs, which kept them fed well enough,” Hermione said. “Not unlike the bins from the baker and butcher here, really.”

“I suppose,” Ron said, still sounding sour. “At least they didn’t have to go knocking about in bins at two o’clock in the morning, though.”

“No, but then one day something very strange happened,” Hermione said.

“Which was?” Harry asked.

“One of the geese laid an egg that was solid gold,” Hermione said.

Ron screwed up his face in disbelief.

“You’re joking,” Ron said.

“No, really, I’m not,” Hermione said. “That’s the story. Each day, the goose would lay a golden egg.”

“Somebody’s having this couple on,” Ron said. “Is it paint? Leprechaun gold? Thieves stealing random golden eggs for some ridiculous reason and hiding them under the goose’s bum for safekeeping?”

“No, the goose really did lay a golden egg each day,” Hermione said.

“That completely flouts that whole rule in magic about not being able to make gold,” Ron said.

“With the exception of the Sorcerer’s Stone,” Harry pointed out.

“Philosopher’s Stone,” Hermione automatically corrected him.

“I thought it was sorcerer?” Harry said, looking confused.

“No, definitely philosopher,” Hermione said.

“I’m the one who had it in my pocket,” Harry said, feeling rather annoyed. “I should hope I know what it was called.”

“Sorcerer, philosopher, toh-may-toh, toh-mah-toh,” Ron said waving the issue away. “The point is, maybe the goose ate one of them.”

“A tomato?” Harry asked.

“No, one of the stones,” Ron said, “whatever they’re called.”

“I suppose that could technically be possible, though Flamel was the only known maker of the Philosopher’s Stone, and he wasn’t born until much later,” Hermione said.

“Sorcerer’s Stone,” Harry mumbled. “Better alliteration.”

Hermione gave him a look, but continued, “Still, he was the only known one. Perhaps someone did manage to pull it off before him.”

Ron looked greatly pleased with himself.

“Okay, so the poor couple can afford to move to town or something,” Ron said.

“They did indeed go into town each morning with their golden egg, which they sold for a tidy profit, and slowly their wealth increased,” Hermione said.

“I like this story,” Ron said, smiling. “Nice and happy.”

“I wouldn’t advise being too comfortable,” Hermione said. “The man and his wife began to become impatient.”

Ron raised his hand politely.

“Yes?” Hermione asked carefully.

“Wouldn’t it be just as fair to say the woman and her husband?” Ron asked.

“I suppose, but that’s not the usual phrasing,” Hermione said.

“Yes, but in this one it sounds like she’s defined in life by her position as being married to him, but he isn’t by being married to her,” Ron said, nodding seriously. “Patriarchy again, right?”

Hermione blinked in surprise.

“Well spotted,” she said, “and this time I really do mean it.”

Ron smiled, Hermione blushed, and Harry considered gagging but thought better of it.

“So the couple, as that’s a more equal term, were both possessed of a desire to get all the good things at once,” Hermione said.

“That doesn’t sound promising,” Ron said.

“No, and their greed led them to think that all the eggs must lie within the goose already, and if they killed her and cut her open, they could have the whole fortune at once,” Hermione said.

“That’s just plain mean!” Ron said angrily. “That goose has been just as nice as could be to them, and they want to kill her!”

“And I’m afraid that’s exactly what they did,” Hermione said, “only when they looked inside her, there wasn’t a single golden egg to be found, and they never had another. They’d spoiled their good fortune by destroying their literal nest egg, and they were soon poor once again because of their impatience.”

“Meanwhile the poor goose is dead,” Harry said, feeling rather sad.

“Wait… No, she’s not!” Ron said excitedly. “She’s fine!”

The other two looked at him curiously.

“Don’t you get it?” Ron said. “Besides being able to make gold, the whatsits’ stone also made the bearer immortal, right?”

“Yes, that’s why You-Know-Who wanted it,” Hermione said.

“So let’s say the goose did swallow it,” Ron said. “They might have tried to kill the goose, but she probably just healed up again and waddled her happy way down the road, and what’s more, we know she did because she shows up in that story with Jack and the insanely gigantic peapods!”

“Jack and the beanstalk, you mean,” Hermione said, but her eyes were enormous. “Oh my goodness, I never thought of that before, but that goose did lay golden eggs, and again for no apparent reason whatsoever!”

“Stone,” Ron said firmly while nodding and folding his arms. “Philosopher or sorcerer, that goose blundered into some wizard’s house, ate the stone, started laying golden eggs, survived attempted murder, and wound up in not one but two of these idiotic things.”

Harry stared at him.

“Is it me or does that make perfect sense?” Harry said to Hermione.

“It really does,” Hermione said, still sounding shocked. “Of course the moral is that greed destroys what it desires, but I suppose that still holds even in this instance since the couple does lose the goose.”

“I certainly wouldn’t stay there if I were her,” Ron said. “Good on ol’ Goosey.”

“You do realize what else this means, right?” Harry said.

Hermione and Ron both looked at him.

“The goose is still alive,” Harry said. “She’d still be gobbling away someplace, laying eggs and laughing up her wing at the whole of humanity for centuries.”

“That’s true,” Ron said, slowly. “Well, we’ve got a new quest after this one’s over, haven’t we!”

“I am never going to be able to look at this story the same way again,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “My whole worldview is tilted.”

“Decent night’s sleep’ll fix that,” Ron said. “So, where are we off to tomorrow?”

“Harry, it’s your turn to pick,” Hermione said.

“Well, I sort of suggested the Vatican library, so that was my turn,” he said. “You’re up, Hermione.”

“Okay,” she said. She hesitated for a moment, then said timidly, “Well, we’re not all that far, so I think maybe it might be worthwhile to check Albania.”

“Albania?” Harry and Ron asked together.

“It’s where he ran into Quirrell, where Bertha Jorkins was killed, and where he lived, if you can call it living, for many years,” Hermione said. “Maybe there’s a clue there somewhere in the forest.”

Harry turned this over in his mind. He hadn’t expected to stay away from Britain longer, but it was a logical choice, and one that, the more he thought about it, seemed likely to produce something.

“Sounds good,” Ron said, smiling. “Okay, so we’re off to Albania.”

“We’ll head to Tirana tomorrow, then,” Hermione said.

“I thought we were going to Albania,” Ron said.

“That’s the capital city of Albania,” Hermione explained.

“Oh, right,” Ron said. “Tirana.”

Harry nodded in agreement.

“And tomorrow, we get a real breakfast with the last of the lira before we go,” Hermione said. “No point not using a golden egg when we’ve got one. Night.”

“G’night,” Ron and Harry muttered.

As they climbed into their beds and turned off the lights, Harry couldn’t help wondering whether Ron was right. Maybe there really was a goose wandering about the world, laying golden eggs and perhaps leaving them as gifts for people who needed them. It was a pleasant thought.

“Definitely sorcerer’s,” Harry muttered under his breath as he fell asleep.

“Philosopher’s,” Hermione’s voice answered from across the tent, and then all was quiet.