Little Plum Robe


There was once a little pureblooded girl, whose father loved her deeply. He worked hard as Lord of the Sacred-Twenty-Eight ensuring peace and prosperity for all the righteous witches and wizards. Just before winter, the little girls father gave her a gift, a set of velvet robes coloured the deepest plum.


The little girl loved them so much people around the village in which she and her father resided came to call her Plum Robe, for wherever the Lord went, there was little Plum Robe by his side.


One day Plum Robe was out playing in the manor’s garden when her father’s patronus came for her with a message.


“Please come to my office, Plum Robe. I have an urgent task that needs completing, and only you can do it!” The patronus dissipated, leaving Plum Robe to scurry into the manor and up the winding staircase as quickly as her legs could carry her.


She burst through the door of her father's chambers, plumb robe billowing around her, and platinum hair shining.


“Father, I’ve arrived. What is this task that only I can do?”


Her father smiled, gesturing for her. “Come here darling Plum Robe. Take this potion of healing and this loaf of bread to your grandmothers. She’s fallen ill and only you can roust her spirits.”


“Oh father, that sounds dire. I’ll leave immediately.”


“There’s no need to rush, Plum Robe. Remember, mind your manners, don’t forget your wand and never venture from the path leading to your grandmothers, there are many red headed ne'er-do-wells hiding in the dark depths of the forest.”


“Have no fear father, I am always prepared. I’ve got my wand to protect me, and my plum robe to keep me warm. I’ll keep the potion within its depths, and no redhead will be able to get it away from me.

__


Early the next morning Plum Robe set out to her grandmothers, whose house resided on the other side of the village down a narrow trail, through a dense forest. Upon stepping into the forest, little Plum Robe was immediately beset by a feral looking red-headed boy. Unlike her father, she wasn’t afraid of him.


“Good day to you Plum Robe.”

“Thank you, savage child.”


“Is that freshly baked bread I smell within the depths of your plum robes?”


“Yes, but you can’t have it. It's for my grandmother. She’s quite ill. I’m going to take care of her.”


“That smells quite nice, little Plum Robe. I wish my mother had given me something other than corned beef. But if you can’t spare any, then all I can ask is, where does your grandmother live?”


“Surely you know it. Her house is at the end of this trail, in a fine stone house surrounded by the most beautiful flowers.”


The feral child thought to himself, “That freshly baked bread will be divine when I’ve supped the marrow from her bones.” For the redhead boy wasn’t just a boy, but also a wolf. A werewolf.


Plum Robe and the Redheaded boy walked along the trail for a little while until they came upon an open glade in the midst of the forest. Red flowers dotted the landscape wherever the sun touched.


“Plum Robe, look at those beautiful flowers. You must go pick some to take to your grandmother. As surely as anything, they’ll help raise her spirits and put her on the path to recovery.


Plum Robe didn’t say it, but internally she agreed. “Those flowers would make the most delightful bouquet.” Without a second thought, she stepped from the path, never noticing the redheaded boy plotting behind her, or hearing the echo of her wise father’s warning to never leave the path.


As she picked the flowers, the redheaded boy called out to her. “Plum Robe, I must return home, my mother will be looking for me.”


Plum Robe didn’t acknowledge him, her feet carrying her ever further into the clearing as she sought out only the most beautiful flowers to take to her grandmother.


The feral redheaded boy vanished in a snap, his feet carrying him quickly down the trail to Plum Robe’s grandmother’s house. He composed himself before knocking on her door.


“Who’s there?”


“Little Plum Robe. Father sent me with freshly baked bread and a healing potion. Open the door.”


“I can’t, I’m too weak. Just press the latch and you can enter.”


The redheaded boy picked up a double sided axe from a woodpile by the door, and quickly pushed the latch in. Once inside he overpowered Little Plum Robe’s grandmother, brutalizing her with the axe.


Finding spare linens, he wrapped her up and hid her body away, for being a werewolf he was gifted with brutal strength. He quickly donned the grandmother’s clothes, put her cap over his head, and crept into her bed.


Little Plum Robe had found her way back to the trial. Her arms were full of more flowers than she could carry. Surely this would make her happy. Plum Robe continued along the path until she reached her grandmother’s house.


She noticed that the door had been left open, and with little thought, barged right inside.


“Good evening, Grandmother!” but received no answer.


She then went to her grandmother’s bed and pulled back the curtains. Grandmother was laying there with her cap pulled down over her face, looking very strange.


“Oh grandmother, what pale skin you have!”


“All the better to bask in the brightness of your youth.”


Oh grandmother, what strange freckles you have!.”


“So that your brightness doesn’t overwhelm me.”


Oh grandmother, what watery eyes you have!”


“Only because you bring me such joy.”


“Oh grandmother, what big hands you have!


“All the better to grab you with!”


“Oh grandmother, what a terrible looking mouth you have!”


“All the better to crush your bones and drink your blood!”


The redheaded boy had barely finished his sentence when he’d jumped from the bed in a single great leap. His bones cracking, his mouth elongating, dirty red-fur and pointed ears perched on top of his head. He snatched Plum Robe up, and ripped her apart with his gnashing teeth, and when he was finished he fell asleep in the grandmother's bed.


The Lord of the Sacred-Twenty-Eight had grown worried for his Little Plum Robe, and had left into the forest not long after she. So when he arrived and witnessed the carnage within his mother’s bed, his heart broke.


“So here you lay, red hair, freckles, and the blood of my darling Plum Robe on your gluttonous hands. You must be a Weasley. The wise lord pulled his wand from his cane, twirling it about. I cast a curse on you and your family, that your coffers run dry, and you mother never know the joy of having a daughter like mine!”


__


The book snapped shut in Draco’s hands. His daughter jumped, shocked, beside him.


“Oh father, what a terrible story.”


“Yes, and let it be a lesson to you. Weasley’s ruin all things: a father’s joy, and a little girl’s virtue. Don’t let their blood ever sully your hands.”

 

1190 words - this is solid. I am overly fond of the term "little plum robe" and the ending here was satisfying.

Spoiler

I’m already interested because this appears to be a take on RRH – and I’ve been working on a (sort of but not really) retelling of RRH for about a year now. Curious to see your take on it!

Little Plum Robe is a damn catchy/cute name. I am oddly fond of it.

Yeah, this is great. This line in particular made me smile:

The little girl loved them so much people around the village in which she and her father resided came to call her Plum Robe, for wherever the Lord went, there was little Plum Robe by his side.
Language is a bit formal in places given that age I am envisioning Plum Robe to be, for example: “I’ve arrived. What is this task that only I can do?”

KUDOS for having an actual reason why only this kid can do this task – grandma is ill and only the beloved granddaughter could cheer her up. I buy that. Well done indeed.

Red-headed ne’er-do-wells… Oh snap, are we about to be dealing with Weasleys? Oh yup, corned beef, hah! I mean, on one hand, I want to guess that this is Luna… but that doesn’t fit with the father’s description as well. Perhaps the Malfoys, actually. And not Ron specifically either despite the corned beef reference.

And boom, what an ending! I like that she died (as in some of the oldest versions of the story), and I like how well this tied into the curse cast at the end. It explains the lack of daughers for Weasleys as well as the bad blood between these two families. I’m curious though why the wolf didn’t just murder her when she was getting flowers. I know in the original it has him go ahead to the house as well, but it just now occurs to me to ask that.

Anyway, well done. An excellent entry, in my opinion, with a fun canon-tie-in ending.