Little Miss Muffet

Little Miss Muffet

Once upon a time there was a little boy named Ron Weasley. Ron really liked to eat. He's eat all the time if he could, but he was a rapidly growing boy who added several inches to his height overnight unlike another boy who adds several inches to his girth overnight. Now children, this isn't the story about Ron the Giant, it's about Little Miss Muffet.

Ron really liked to eat candy, he liked to drink butterbeer, he loved the meals at school, but most of all he loved his mum's home cooking. When Ron was younger, he used to race down in the mornings so he could have first choice at the piping hot breakfast. Years later, he realised that even if he came down after everybody else had finished, there'd still be a piping hot breakfast left for him. Mrs. Weasley loved feeding people, especially her growing sons.

One day during the summer break, Ron came down to find that he was all alone. His father and brothers had gone to work and he presumed that his mum and sister had gone out to do girly stuff. Like shopping, or getting their hair done, or something equally gross like that.

Ron wandered into the kitchen and saw a steaming bowl waiting for him at his place at the big dinner table. Since it looked like such a fine day, Ron took his steaming bowl of ... something, and a spoon and went outside to enjoy the sunshine. And maybe get a bit of a tan.

Ron went to his favourite part of the garden, a particularly lush knoll and sat down to eat. Ron had no idea just what he was eating, his mum like to experiment with food sometimes. It was kind of milky but it wasn't porridge.

As he was eating, Ron noticed something big and black lumbering up the road towards his house. Whatever it was, it had to be coming to The Burrow because nobody else lived for miles around. Maybe it was one of Hagrid's pets. Oh well, he'd deal with it when it came.

Ron kept eating from his bowl which never seemed to empty. This was because Mrs. Weasley had put spells on all of the crockery in the house so it would remain full until the person eating was full. Ron turned around on his grassy patch on top of a hill to face the paddock where he and his brothers played Quidditch. Ron was dreaming of the day when the Chudley Cannons would finally win the Quidditch Cup, with him as the Keeper of course, when he heard someone heaving behind him. Ron froze on the grass too afraid to turn around and see just who or what was behind him.

"Excuse me, are you Ron Weasley?" the voice behind him panted.

Ron slowly turned around to see... the biggest acromantula he had ever seen. Ron screamed at the top of his lungs and ran back to the house, locked the door behind him, ran up the stairs and hid under his bed.

Ron was shaking all over when he heard a scratching noise at his window. He opened one eye to see that his room was pitch black. Then he saw the reason: the acromantula had crawled up the side of The Burrow and now had its face pressed up against the window! And one of its legs was trying to open the window!

Mad, sickening thoughts raced through Ron's head. He was trapped! Under his bed! Was the acromantula going to start eating him from his feet? Or would it start from the head so that he wouldn't have to watch?

The window squeaked open bit by bit. Ron continued to shiver, his back pressed against the wall.

"Are you Ron Weasley?" the acromantula asked again.

"N-n-no, I-I-I-I'm N-n-n-neville L-l-longbot-t-tom," Ron stuttered. If he could trick the acromantula, maybe it would go away.

"Isn't this The Burrow? Don't the Weasleys live here?" the acromantula asked, feeling very confused.

"They're all on holiday," Ron lied. "I'm just here to watch their house for them."

"Well," the acromantula sighed causing all of the papers on the floor to blow about in the sudden breeze. "Well, if you see Ron Weasley, tell him that Hagrid found his scarf. It was under Fang's bed."

The acromantula threw the red and gold scarf into the room, climbed back down the side of the house and lumbered up the road, presumably back home.

Ron waited a good ten minutes before climbing out of his hiding spot. All of his fear turned into anger and frustration as Ron wrote a quick note, tied it to Errol and threw the poor old owl out the window.

Hagrid was sitting outside with his wooden flute, enjoying the sunset when an owl plummeted out of the sky and into his lap.

Hagrid untied to note from the owl's leg and gave it plenty of food and water. Whatever was in the note could wait until. And animal's well being always came first. When the owl had recovered somewhat and flown away, Hagrid then remembered the note. He read the note, re-read it, scoffed, then threw it into the fireplace.

Send it via a bloody owl next time you great git!