The Ballad of Azkaban
He did not wear his mask of death
Though branded on his arm,
The grinning skull and serpent tongue,
His choice to do great harm;
The great, dead wizard whom he loved,
And left the corpse still warm.
He walked among the Wizengamot
In tattered cloak of black;
And though the fettered chains did bind
He never did look back;
But I never saw a man whose woes
Formed a more heavy pack.
I never saw a man whose woes,
So burdened down with care,
Allowed no comforting hand to help
The cross he had to bear,
He bid farewell to the sky,
But never to despair.
I lived, with other souls in grief,
In fear from dawn to dawn;
And was pondering why he’d done my deed
And saved this wretched pawn,
When a prophesy rang in my ear,
“His soul will soon be gone.”
Oh, Salazar! How my heart did quail
And the cell around me spun;
How easily it could have been my soul
And not his innocent one,
If not the oaths had bound him tight,
If not the deed were done.
I knew now why his eyes were fixed
In sorrow on the light,
And why his burdens bent his back,
And justice was not right;
The man had killed a man he loved,
And must go to the night.
Father said every man killed his love
For strength needs no such bond,
Some do it with a viper’s hiss,
Some with vanity donned,
The coward with a traitor’s kiss,
The brave man with a wand!
Some kill their love when they are young,
Believing to be bold;
The broken wife, the fearful child
Have long till they grow old;
But Severus used a loving spell,
Not only the dead grow cold.
Some trust too little, some love too late,
Some never even try,
He killed a man to save a life,
How could his eyes be dry?
Many kill the things they love,
Yet only one will die.
He will not stand with hooded men
And claim an honored place,
He will not hear the thanks of one
He saved from dire disgrace,
All he will know is in his heart
There rests and empty space.
He does not wait with Dementors round
Who leech him of his life,
Who swallow whole his pain and toil,
And decisions made in strife;
They do not say “this was a man
Who balanced on the knife.”
He does not wake at midnight toll
When shadows blot the moon,
And hooded demons gather near
Rasping a fatal tune,
And the lion-hearted minister,
Demands the time be soon.
He does not rise at their desire
To straighten his shabby clothes
While the jailors watch with interest at
The traitor’s last repose
And yet he only stares at them
From down his hooked nose.
He does not know the hurried thoughts
That spring before the mind;
The aria once left unsung,
The poet’s lines to find,
For none shall ever hear again
The thoughts that from him wind.
He does not tilt his head to hear
The crimes that he is found;
Nor does he blench, or shake in fear,
As the creatures gather round,
But only one small single tear,
Falls unheeded to the ground.
He does not pray to unknown gods-
They left him long ago;
As clammy hands wrap round him tight
He will not feel them go,
But with his eyes he seeks the light;
While the kiss brings him below.
The Ballad of Azkaban by coppercurls
Chapter Notes: If you have not read the Ballad of Reading Gaol by Oscar Wilde I highly recomend it as it was not only the basis for this poem but is an excellent piece of literature.