A H.P Version of "The Raven" By Edgar Allen Poe. HP belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Once upon a midnight dreary while Harry pondered,
weak and weary,
Over many a stupid essay given by the
Potions Master.
While Harry nodded, nearly napping,
suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at his
chamber door.
"'Tis Ron Weasley," Harry muttered, "Tapping at my chamber door-
This it is and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly he remembered it was in
the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost
upon the floor.
Eagerly he wished the morrow; vainly he had
sought to borrow
From his essays surcease of sorrow-sorrow for
the lost Hermione Granger.
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the
angels name Hermione Granger-
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling
of each red curtain
Thrilled him-filled him with terrors never felt-
even with a death eater.
So that now, to still the beating of his heart,
Harry stood there repeating,
"'Tis Ron Weasley entreating entrance at
my chamber door-
Just Ron entreating entrance at my
chamber door-
This it is, and nothing more."
Presently his soul grew stronger; hesitating then
no longer,
"Ron,” said Harry, “Ron Weasley, I am sorry for not
opening the door;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently
you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping
at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you-" here
Harry opened wide the door; -
Ron came in and nothing more.
"Harry, " said Ron, upon Dumbldore's voice hearing, long
I stood in the office peering,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no wizards ever
dared to dream before.
And the whispers there were unbroken, and the
minister gave no token,
And the only topic there spoken was the
whispered topic 'Hermione Granger.'"
This Ron said, and Harry murmured back the words,
"Hermione Granger!"
Merely this, and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all their soul
within them burning,
Soon they heard again a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely, " said Harry, "surely that is something g
at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this
mystery explore-
Let my heart be still a moment and
this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!"
Open here Harry flung the shutter, when with
many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately phoenix that looked unlike Fawkes,
belonging to Dumbledore.
Not the least obeisance made it; not an
instant stopped or stayed it;
But with mien of wizard or witch,
perched above Harry's chamber door-
Perched upon a bust of Lion just above
Harry's chamber door;
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then the red & gold bird beguiling Ron's
sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the
countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven,
thou," he said, "Art sure no craven,
Ghastly and grim, like a raven wandering from
the Nightly shore-
Tell me what thy lordly name is on
the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the phoenix, "Nevermore."
Much Ron and Harry marveled this ungainly fowl
to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning- little
relevancy bore.
For they could not help agreeing that no living
human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above
his chamber door-
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above
his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."
But the phoenix sitting lonely on the placid bust
spoke only
That one word, as if its soul in that one word
he did outpour.
Nothing farther then it uttered-not a feather
then it fluttered-
Till Harry scarcely more than muttered, "Other
phoenixes have flown before-
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes
have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so
aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said Ron, "What it utters is its only stock
and store
Caught from some unlucky death eater whom
unmerciful dementor
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs
one burden bore-
Till the dirges of his Happiness that
melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never- nevermore.'"
But the phoenix suddenly beguiling all Harry's sad soul
into smiling,
Straight he wheeled a cushioned sea in front of
bird, and bust and door;
Then upon the velvet sinking, Harry betook
himself to linking
Voldy into Fluffy, thinking what this ominous
bird of yore
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and
ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."
This Harry sat engaged in guessing, but no
syllable expressing,
To the fowl whose ruby eyes now burned
into his scar's core;
This and more he sat divining, with his head at ease
reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the
lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet red and gold lining with the lamplight
gloating o'er,
Hermione shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then Harry thought, the room grew denser,
perfumed from an unseen censor,
Swung by Ginny whose faint foot-falls
tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," Harry cried, "Dumbledore hath lent thee-
by Ginny he hath sent thee
Respite-respite and nepenthe from thy memories
of Hermione Granger;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget
the lost Hermione Granger!"
Quoth the phoenix, "Nevermore."
"Trelawney!"said Ron, "thing of evil! Trelawney
still, if bird or devil!
Whether You-know-who sent, or whether tempest
tossed thee here ashore;
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land
enchanted-
On this castle by Peeves haunted- tell me truly,
I implore-
Is there- is there death eaters still in Azkaban? Tell me,
tell me, I implore!
Quoth the phoenix, "Nevermore."
"Trelawney," said Harry, "thing of evil- Trelawney still,
if bird of devil!
By that snitch that fly above us- by that Quidditch
that we both adore-
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within
the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels
name Hermione Granger-
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the
angels name Hermione Granger."
Quoth the phoenix, "Nevermore."
“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or
fiend!" Ron and Harry shrieked, upstarting-
"Get thee back to the tempest and
the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no red and gold plume as a token of that
lie thy soul has spoken!
Leave our loneliness unbroken! -Quit the bust above
the door!
Take they beak from out our hearts, and take thy
form from off the door!"
Quoth the phoenix, "Nevermore."
And the phoenix, never flitting, still is
sitting, still is sitting,
On the pallid bust of lion just above
Harry's chamber door;
And its eyes have all the seeming of a demon's
that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er it streaming throws its
shadow on the floor;
And Ron & Harry's souls from out that shadow that
lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted- nevermore!