Ginny Weasley and the Red Shoes

Chapter Seven – A Muggle Tale

That afternoon we’re back digging through the library, looking through the books of literature used by students in Advanced Muggle Studies. I remember some of these stories from when I was younger – there was a book titled Grimm’s Fairy Tales buried in a box out in the shed, and I snuck it into my room to read late at night. I read it twice over before Mum confiscated it. She called it “a pack of silly, misinformed rubbish” and warned that I’d ruin my education. But I had found the so-called ‘fairy tales’ oddly romantic. Not that I ever said as much.

Right now I’m holding a book called Best Loved Folktales of the World. I browse through the table of contents and pick out a story that I remember.

“What do you think about this one?”

I slide the book across the table to Colin with my finger very clearly pointing to the title. He glances at it and I see his mouth twitch. I’m surprised to see that he looks a bit uncomfortable.

“Er, Snow White? I’m not really sure that’s such a good idea.”

“So what’s wrong with it this time?” I ask. He’s been nixing most of my suggestions all afternoon.

“For starters, it’s the same problem as before. I don’t see how we can fit all this into a short number. And there are too many characters as well.”

“But we don’t have to do it all; we could just pick one part to work out. And if you think about it, the only important roles are the girl, the prince, and the queen, so then we’ll just choose to do something between Snow White and the Prince.”

“But then there’s really just the one big scene.” Colin looks down at the table. He seems a bit peaked. “I don’t know, Ginny, do you want me to play that part? I mean, he doesn’t really do much of anything, except….”

Ah, I finally see his real problem. He doesn’t want to play a milksop prince; he wants to be Martin Miggs.

“Oh, all right – we can use another more exciting scene. Perhaps the part where Snow White is poisoned?”

His flushed face turns sour.

“I’m not playing the Queen.”

“Fine – then you be Snow White!” I’m starting to get frustrated. Fortunately some of our more studious-minded classmates are reentering the library just then. They all take seats at our table.

“Goodness, haven’t you two finished yet? You’ll miss dinner.”

“Not to mention the Revue entirely if you keep this up.”

I groan. Colin shrugs.

“Huh. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen the two of you stuck for words,” jokes one as he glances between us. “Well, out with it – maybe we can help.”

I’m rather loathe to rehash the afternoon, but nevertheless fill them in. I’m explaining the purpose behind using a fairy tale when to my surprise one of the girls, also Muggle-born like Colin, suddenly gets an excited look on her face.

“Oh, wait a minute – I think I may have an idea!”

She rummages through the pile of books on the table, pulling out a thick, leather-bound one. She quickly flips through its gold-leafed pages, finally pausing over a section. Grinning broadly, she passes the book over to me. I look down at the title: The Red Shoes, by Hans Christian Andersen.

“I once saw a dance adaptation of this story – it’ll be perfect! It’s about a girl who gets a pair of red shoes that are cursed – when she starts to dance, she can’t stop, and in the end it destroys her. Don’t you think that would be the perfect theme for your dance number? It would be so dramatic and haunting!”

Colin perks up. I suppose the fact there isn’t a wicked queen involved anywhere immediately earns it his favor.

But I shudder.

It’s not that I’m bothered by stories about enchantments – for goodness sakes, I’m a witch. I’m rather fond of tales where the hero has to awaken his true love with a kiss; that scenario can entertain me for hours on end. But this particular kind of enchantment leaves me cold. Enslaving a girl through a seemingly innocent magical object, losing all control so that she’s forced to act against her will, driving her to her death…

No, no… oh, no…

“Er, Ginny – are you feeling okay?”

“I… I think I’m going to go lie down for a while. I’ll catch you all later, okay?”