The Graveyard
It was there, glistening,
Eminent right before me,
And at that very moment,
It was all that I could see.
The radiant Triwizard cup,
Stood at the center of the maze,
It was clear, in my eyes,
Without mist or haze.
Cedric stood beside me,
Like me, rooted to the spot,
Staring at the very thing,
That we both, deeply sought.
“Together, we touch the cup.”
We decided, “At the count of three.”
And proceeded towards it,
Like true champions should be.
We touched it, held it,
And suddenly we felt,
As though someone had nastily,
Just tugged our belts.
I was stunned, for a second,
There was nothing I could see,
It was a deplorable truth,
The cup was a portkey.
It stopped a moment later,
And I lay, cold and bare,
Only vivid blue light was visible,
The Triwizard cup lay there.
Then, I heard it, I was sure,
Something moving in the yew,
It was too late, to draw my wand,
And think of a spell, too.
“Avada Kedavra!” Came a voice,
Followed by a swish of green light,
I knew it, and so did he,
That It was too late to fight.
My scar seared with pain,
Splitting my head into two,
Cedric was dead beside me,
And there was nothing I could do.
He lay there, on the ground,
Unceasingly staring at me,
I wondered, if tonight,
Something worse was there to see.
And then, from a cauldron beside me,
Came something cloaked in black,
I was rigid as a tombstone,
Lord Voldemort was back!
He took his wand from Wormtail,
And pressed hard against his mark,
And just as he had done so,
Death eaters apparated in the dark.
There was nothing I could do,
But stand helplessly and see,
And before I could fathom the fact,
Conjured ropes bound me.
But, Voldemort returned my wand,
And magicked the ropes away,
“I give everyone a fair chance.”
“So have it your way.”
“Crucio!” He bellowed,
And pointed his wand towards me,
I felt a pang of writhing pain,
But I would never plea.
Voldemort’s mirthless laugh,
Reverberated in the sky,
But if it was going to be over tonight,
This was not how I would die.
“Avadakedavara!” he shouted,
With a sadistic glare,
“Expelliarmus!” I cried,
Our spells clashed in mid-air.
Our wands had connected,
And there appeared a golden sphere,
And for the first time on Voldemort’s face,
Evil gave place to fear.
Around us a golden web had formed,
And we struggled to control the ball,
Ghosts began appearing from his wand tip,
As though attending to someone’s call.
Cedric’s ghost came floating,
And barely in a whisper, he said,
“Take my body to my parents, Harry,
“My last memory, now that I’m dead.”
Then came a muggle, whom I felt I knew,
Frank Bryce was the name of the man,
“So he was a wizard.” To me he said,
“Son, hold on as hard as you can.”
They were the ghosts of Voldemort’s victims,
Who were slowly appearing,
And from a few feet from myself,
My parent’s ghosts were nearing.
“Go to the cup, Harry!” they said,
“ Do it as fast as you can.”
And mustering all my strength,
I broke the connection and ran.
The Triwizard cup was on the ground,
But I was too tired to go on,
So, I lifted Cedric’s body up,
And the cup, I summoned.
At the instant, I touched it,
It was like a fast moving reel,
There was respite mixed with anguish,
I had survived through the ordeal.
I lay sprawled on the ground,
Professor Dumbledore approached me,
Suddenly, everything turned murky,
And only blackness, I could see.
I can’t remember anything else,
As I had gone into a slumber deep,
Anyway, such long memories,
Would take a pensieve to keep.
Now I am in the hospital wing,
And I must put down my quill,
Cause Madam Pomfrey’s around,
And it’ll be too much to spill.
-Marvolo
Note: Some parts of the poem are different from the book. This is to make the poem dramatic and intense.