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On a stifling, obsidian night
A frail young lady
Stumbled weakly into an orphanage.
She had just given birth
To a monster.
Then life left her,
And death deleted her,
And she quietly quit
This Mortal Coil.
This monster was
A very handsome monster.
His features mirrored completely
The wayward man who sired him.
And, as the monster matured,
He became more handsome by the day.
But remember:
He was a monster,
And even handsome monsters are mean.
He filled feeble fellows and fillies with fright,
And did dastardly deeds that scarred their souls.
He reasoned, see, that the people who he called
His parents
Had deserted him,
Had disappointed him,
Had displeased him.
So he would displease others.
He was special, see, so
If his life left him displeased,
Everyone else should so be beyond displeased.
Our monster matured more.
He learned he was a wizard,
And not any wizard,
But the honorable heir of Salazar Slytherin himself.
So our monstrous monster meant to make himself great.
(He was, by the by, still sumptuously handsome,
And would remain rightly so for quite a few years more.)
Here now, this handsome monster
Brought to birth a grandness of a gathering,
A clandestine clan,
And designated them the Death Eaters,
And decided that they’d displease the world through.
And so they did.
They pleased no one.
Pristinity became putrescence beneath their irrepressible power.
And our monster realized. . . reasoned:
He pleased to please no one for forever,
But his life was likely only one hundred years,
Not forever.
That could change, could it not?
Our manic monster spirited his sleek, handsome self
Away to beleaguered lands,
Where his dark dreams
Became brutal reality.
But, under such unsurpassable evils,
His handsomeness left him.
Now, not only was he a monster,
He was a hideous monster.
But he heeded it not.
He was free now to forever displease;
What else could he care for?
But, by chance, a prophecy ploughed
Into his evil existence,
A harrowing prediction that prophesied a hero
That could kill our monster.
But remember:
Our monster meant to live forever
To displease everyone.
Why should a boy be his untimely end?
He pleased no one!
So he decided he could kill him.
Our marred monster
Entered our hero’s house,
Killed his dad,
And happened upon our hero’s mother.
She was young, alike our monster’s mom.
And she, too, would that her child was safe.
And our monster murdered her.
Our hero, just like our monster,
Was an orphan.
Our monster turned on our hero,
And stopped short.
Our raven-haired hero was handsome.
Our monster was once a handsome raven-haired boy, too,
But he was now a hideous, heinous, horrific happenstance
In a horrific world.
He became bitter,
And raised his wand,
And cast a Killing Curse at our handsome hero.
It didn’t work.
The curse cast itself back and hit our monster,
Who was reduced to the meanest spirit a monster can be.
And our hero became a hero.
It would seem our monster met his miserable end.
But remember:
Our monster magicked powerful protections upon himself,
So he could please no one for eternity.
For thirteen yearning years he waited
For his chance to return to himself
And forever displease the world,
And to quit the hero
Who had deigned to destroy him.
And, after thirteen years,
With the service of a servant,
He returned to his broken body,
While our hero remained handsome.
Our monster could not bear it;
Our monster meant not to bear it.
He would live to please no one,
And our hero least of all.
But remember:
Our handsome hero could kill our mangled monster.
And our hero pleased to please everyone.
And, though he could not claim himself heir of Salazar,
He was equal still to our monster.
Our handsome hero killed our hideous monster.
And everyone rejoiced;
For our monster would no longer live
To displease the world,
And that was incentive enough to celebrate.
The moral to this simple story is this:
If you try to please no one,
You end up pleasing everyone.