“Is there anybody there?” said Harry,
Knocking on Privet Drive’s door,
And the Knight Bus roared away,
After Stan had thrown Harry’s luggage on the floor:
And Hedwig flew out of her cage and hovered,
Above Harry Potter’s head:
And he knocked on the door a second time;
“Is there anybody there?” he said.
But Aunt Petunia did not open the door for Harry,
Nor did Uncle Vernon’s head descend from the immaculate sill,
To comment on his untidy hair and lateness,
So Harry stood, perplexed and still.
But only a host of gossiping neighbours,
That dwelled across the street from them,
Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight,
To the voice of Harry, who had arrived two hours late, at ten:
Scared, they stood away from Harry and his unruly hair,
As Harry insisted the door swing open to reveal relatives inside,
But then was shaken from his dreaming of what should have been,
By Hedwig’s token hunting call,
Harry felt, in his heart, a strangeness,
The Dursleys’ absence answering his cry,
While Hedwig flew silently,
‘Neath the starred and silent sky;
For he suddenly turned to the gossiping crowd
And said louder, and lifted his head: -
“Tell them I came, and no-one answered,
That I kept my word,” he said.
The crowd said nothing but listened intently,
Though every word he spoke,
Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house,
To the truth, Harry awoke:
Ay, the crowd did not see the Knight Bus summoned again,
But to the Muggles' besmusement he paid his money and left,
For The Burrow, and the crowd felt his strangeness,
Without Harry, for a wizard they were bereft.

T’was the night of Voldemort’s downfall, when all through the world,
No-one was safe from Voldemort, not even a blackbird,
The Potters were hidden by Voldemort with care,
In the hope that he would never visit them there;

Harry, their son, was nestled all snug in bed,
While visions of James and Lily danced in his head;
And Lily reading and James looking up a map,
Just before they prepared for a long, dream-filled nap -

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
The Potters jumped up to see what was the matter,
Away to the window they flew like a flash,
Hoping tonight would not be the good-and-evil clash.

The dark of the night hid the intruders that James wanted to show,
And it was quite plain to a stirring Harry there was danger below;
When what to Lily’s terrified eyes should appear,
But Death Eaters themselves, who dealt in deceit and fear,

With a terrible leader with slits for eyes to begin,
And they all seemed most intent on getting in.
And he whistled, and shouted, and crashed through the door,
Harry, perplexed, wanted to know what all the fuss was for,

James braced himself for the up and coming fight,
Whilst Lily ran to Harry, away from the sight,
But after James’ death Voldemort only proceeded,
Lily felt that Harry’s protection was in order and needed,

As Lily bowed her head, and was turning around,
Into the room Voldemort came with a bound,
He was dressed all in black from his head to his foot,
Not a patch of clothing was tarnished with soot;

Lily stifled a cry - her fears had come true,
Lily and Harry’s chances were now very few.
His eyes, how menacing! His smile, not there!
Begging to him for mercy was like begging to air;

His deadly wand raised for the killer spell,
Lily did not have the time to scream nor to yell,
She was dead after begging and thought of Harry no more,
And young Harry Potter watched his mother hit the floor.

A glare of his eye and a nod of his head,
Alerted Harry that there was much to dread,
He conversed no more and went straight to work,
Said the final spell and flicked his wand with a jerk,

A green light filled the space and Voldemort fell,
Unfortunately, the Dark Lord did not go to Hell,
Not alive, not dead, but his team ran away,
A baby had killed Voldemort before the light of day?

But nay, Harry Potter could do no such thing,
Although from that day on he was thought of as king,
But I heard the Death eaters exclaim, ere they Apparated out of sight,
“Curses to all, and to all a bad night!”

***************************************************

I was a werewolf, that was the dream,
To have this monster come undone at the seams,

And for me to step out, myself, the human me,
Taking a werewolf to Hogsmeade isn't every girls' cup of tea.

The point that I'm making is I'd quite like all this to end,
Because quite frankly the reality is worse than I have penned,

Scratches and howls do sound quite suspicious,
And around the full moon my friends seem quite delicious,

I was a werewolf - no wait, I still am a freak!
When I'm a werewolf I'm no longer meek,

Half-breed, they call me, monster, savage,
And I can't always explain that I don't want to ravage,

I was a werewolf, that's what I shall say,
Once I've been cured of this curse in a wonderful way,

A social outcast redeemed at long last!
How I wish this werewolf could be in my past.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

James Potter hereby formally invites Lily Evans to the Ball in a Lyrical Form, and requests her company for a dance:

Should I compare thee to a summer's day?
No, scratch that, your perfection far outstrips a season;
In your eyes a year, a world, a beautiful life,
A caring heart beyond all hope and reason;

Doth a summer sing so sweet?
Clearly not, what with all the midges in the air;
Well, you can't sing either but that's a metaphor:
For your charming voice and auburn hair;

Per-chance you may be interested in a poor man's blight?
I see a woman in my eyes, but no man graces her vision,
I'm not entirely sure if it is just pure loathing,
For I think her selection criteria needs some revision;

How can one feel perfection while devoid of it?
A question that plagues me no longer:
For I know now merely accompanying perfection in life is a gift,
Possession I don't need, her presence alone makes me stronger.

Should I ask you to the ball?
That's the question haunting me now,
For if you say no my heart will be ripped by my tormented head,
And if you say yes my head by speechless except, "Wow."

Should I compare thee to a summer's day?
No, too perfect, too complete in all things,
But if you were to say "Yes" to my invitation,
I'd compare myself honestly to king of kings.

Well, Lily, my flower, sweet perfection, what do you say?
(NOT: Should I compare thee to a summer's day?)

Dumbledore's Limerick to the School of Thursday, Fourth of June, on finding his collection of hair missing

My collection of grey hair I keep, pulled from my beard,
Was absent on Wednesday and I suspect it's disappeared,
Please, burglars, this isn't fair,
Wand cores are made with my hair,
And if I go completely bald I will no longer be feared!

Dumbledore's Double Limerick to the School on Friday, Fifth of June, that he wishes to title "Sheepishness"

All I can say is that I apologise to the unfairly accused,
My hair didn't go missing and your privacy was abused,
Fawkes made it into a charming nest,
He thought it was a cosier place to have a rest,
I apologise to all - my actions were stupid and lewd;

I also realise it is not my hair that makes me impressive,
But my toes, instead make the notion of fear suggestive,
I'll keep all the nails,
Amid Madam Pomfrey's wails,
And then hang them up in a row when the season is festive.