Today Will Be Better, I Swear!


The rough cement chafed his skin,
But the smell of grime was no stranger.
Back in his shop, Ollivander
Coughed against the dust
Too often.
Something to be called a friend,
Something to have comfort in,
It soothed him into a slumber
Born of fear and anger.

After the pain of curses,
The excess of abuses,
He was hurled into a nothingness
Of barren, unending blackness;
Feebly, he fell to the bottom,
To lie in its embraces.

At first, it was a trick of light,
Or so he thought, Ollivander;
The serene face was too unreal,
The golden hair shouldn’t shine so bright,
The smile was jarring to his eyes.
You are how my end begins,
You are the edge of madness.
Yet when the smile refused to fade,
Too old and foolish he gave in,
The tears they started blurring.

“Today will be better, I swear.�
He was huddled in a corner.
Still faithless, he shook his head:
It will never be better.

“Shall I tell you of the Heliopaths,
Of Wrackspurts and Humdingers?
Or Nargles haunting mistletoes,
And Umbugular Slashkilters?
Did you know about Gurdyroots
(They shake off Gulping Plimpies)?
Oh! Let me say what Moon Frogs are,
They feed on purple shrimpies!�

And on and on her yarns she wove,
And on and on he listened,
Till one fine day he reeled them off:
Cornelius dines on Goblin pie,
As Aurors spy for Rotfang League;
Ashen Rufus cannot die,
For Smith had Loser’s Lurgy.

Then laughter echoed round the dark,
Though it came not from her lips;
He clasped his hand round his mouth,
The vision it started clearing.

“Today will be better, I swear!�
She said it with such firmness.
His head had found the strength to nod:
Oh yes, I believe you, my dear.