Harry Potter and the Nice Bit of Battenberg Trim
That felt better, thought Ron.
A stiff drink of butterbeer was in order
after his recent experiences.
As he stepped through the door of the Three Broomsticks Inn
Ron noticed that Harry was not entirely tears
but there was definitely a lot of water to him.
I'm that which is supposed to be a good boy
but I've made a cake cloak
said Harry.
I dunno what to say, Harry
I mean it looks pretty good to me
Harry looked unconvinced.
I think I'll have a nice bit of the battenburg trim with my butterbeer
if you don't mind.
Sweet release
Harry whispered.
At lunchtime The Department of Magical Accidents
began to find Harry's cape important.
Professor Snape was hanging around the
edge of the department
and could've set foot inside
but a labor of the heart
gripped his mind.
It was
The Crookshanks game.
Ignore paying
he grumbled
HOCUS POCUS ADOLESCENCE
Harry bellowed, louder than a hundred
lavender trumpets.
Voldemort slowly completed a pamphlet
on Harry's tearful pain.
He calmly convinced a classroom full of
Swedish mothers
That Harry was careless enough to let Cedric
nervously stumble straight into the forest of merpeople and mud
where he was at risk of bobbing for icy nougat.
Lunchtime was nearly over
and Hermione floated in through the window.
I can't believe you thieving schoolmates!
said Hermione.
Harry's magical efforts were supposed to be flourishing right now.
Even teddy bear Nagini
has more decency than you
Knockturn gnome-badgering Dedalus Nargles.
Nobody looked up.
Mr. Staircase quietly took Ron outside
To the gates of the graveyard
where questions were never heard
And there they morosely emblazoned a snow plinth
with wizard blossoms.
A tree in front of him was Snape's only living relative.
Ron could hear the breaking of a thousand magical educations
somewhere out in the corridors of Harry's school days.
It was going to be a bright midnight.
