A Lesson with Biscuits

“Have a biscuit, Potter.�

“Have--what?�

“A biscuit, Potter.
Have a biscuit, Potter,
and sit down. There’s something
that you’ve got to understand.�
There’s something that he needs
to understand.

Cautiously, he takes the proffered seat,
his hand hovering over
the tartan cookie tin.
A Ginger Newt presents itself for taking.

A word of caution must be spoken,
advised to this young man
whose tips of ears are still tinged red
from the temper he has demonstrated,
whose eyes, though confused,
still burn fiery green with
impassioned rage--
“You must be careful.�

Surprise arises in his cheeks
at such an anxious, motherly tone.
He swallows his cookie nervously,
unsure of what will follow.

“You must tread carefully the line
set up by such a woman. It could cost
you far more than points and
harsh detention…�

He does not understand;
pride still beats within his chest,
determination still shines in his countenance.
An argument sits impatiently upon
his silent tongue.

“Have some common sense! You know
her real position, know for whom she spies.�

He only stares as the school bell rings,
as if he does not have an answer,
does not know my meaning.

“She’s given you detention for every night
this week. I cannot help you, but remember:
tread carefully.�

“But I told the truth!�
he shouts out, temper boiling over,
the argument now fed and wanting more.
He leaps to his feet in sheer defiance,
all caution going over his head.

“For goodness’ sake! You think this is about
truth and lies? It’s about keeping your head down,
about keeping that temper of yours in check.�

He only stiffens, resolve cemented
in his features.

“Have another biscuit,�
I tartly say, try as I might to keep
my own advice
in this young bull’s presence.

“No thanks,�
he coldly answers, as though
my words are great injury,
as if I am his enemy.

“Don’t be ridiculous!�
Rein in those fighting horns!
He needs to stop and listen;
he needs to understand.

Begrudgingly, he grabs a cookie,
but the fire refuses to leave
his naïve eyes.