A slow mist rose from the dewy grass,
And a cool breeze flowed across the grounds,
The crowd stood silent, watching, still,
As the boy crouched low and cried.
Body laid bare, broken, and gone,
A smear of red staining a pale visage
Of restless death and untimely loss
As the boy crouched low and cried.
A hand on his shoulder, a quiet sound
Of comfort and presence and warmth and love,
And she held his hand and she held his heart
As the boy crouched low and cried.
One raised wand, another and more,
Pointing upward to the stormy grey sky,
And the Dark Mark shattered across the clouds
As the boy crouched low and cried.
A scream so soft, shuddering, lost,
They broke the curse and they freed the sky
Yet the body remained, broken and dead,
As the boy crouched low and cried.
A slow mist rose from the dewy grass,
And a cool breeze flowed across the grounds,
The crowd stood silent, watching, still,
As the boy crouched low and cried.