The Serpent
Once upon an evening sallow, I made approach to Godric's Hollow,
Sporting quite the dark but flattering costume from Ye Death Galore,
While I pattered, nearly falling, suddenly I felt a calling,
As of someone sorely stalling, stalling at a hidden door.
"Tis the Potters," I muttered, "stalling at the hidden door --
Now alive, soon nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I recall that it began in the Great Hall,
Where each separate vying member sought his place upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished for glory; -- vainly I had brought a lorry
From my home that's not in Surrey -- Surrey of the Potter lore --
Of the ugly, gormless halfwit whom the wizards do adore --
Blameless here for evermore.
Oh, the darkish dead undaunting devilry I drove before me
Thrilled me -- filled me with amazing powers never seen before;
So that all, to stem the evil of my heart, tried me defeating,
Through an utterance diverting notice from "Lord Voldemort" --
A dumb utterance diverting notice from "Lord Voldemort;" --
"You-Know-Who," a perfect bore.
Presently my strength grew stronger; unceasingly did I ponder,
As how I, and not another, could the Wizarding World reform;
For the fact is I was evil, and so quickly came upheaval,
And so strongly 'gainst retrieval, retrieval of the goodly norm,
That no trace of kindness held me -- here I gloated up a storm; --
Darkness here, and so hardcore.
Deep into that goodness sneering, long I stood there ruling, leering,
Daring, scheming schemes no mortals ever dared to scheme before;
But resistance was unbroken, and the righteous stood outspoken,
And their sole remaining token was the prophesy of yore.
This I learned of, and a worry nagged upon the prophesy of yore --
Really it could not ignore.
Back into my purpose turning, all my soul within me yearning,
So I plotted first attacking somewhat fiercer than before.
"Surely," said I, "Surely I am evil unmatched across the globe:
Let me see, then, what the threat is, and this enemy explore --
Let my heart immerse in evil and this enemy explore; --
Tis an infant -- score!"
Open here I flung my minions, disregarding wrong opinions,
To find the sacred secret hiding of the Potters and their boy;
Not the least informed was I; for happened I across a spy;
Who, disregarding friend and family, offered me the real McCoy --
Offered me the guarded secret of the Potters and their boy --
Offered, gave, then whinged galore.
Thus my posse journeyed stealthily to bid the Potters most unhealthily,
A most grave and fatal disruption to the secret they enjoy.
Though two lives shorn and deadened, I found my rein most splendid,
To my grim and great shock ended upon the forehead of the boy --
Tell me what thy magicky gift is, to break my power like a toy!
You whose name I so abhor.
Much have I marveled this ungainly foul child who exists so plainly,
Though my answer little substance -- little understanding sports;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blest with truly killing the great Voldemort --
Though man upon his goodness trusts, has not defeated Voldemort,
Ha ha, you really suck.
Sporting quite the dark but flattering costume from Ye Death Galore,
While I pattered, nearly falling, suddenly I felt a calling,
As of someone sorely stalling, stalling at a hidden door.
"Tis the Potters," I muttered, "stalling at the hidden door --
Now alive, soon nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I recall that it began in the Great Hall,
Where each separate vying member sought his place upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished for glory; -- vainly I had brought a lorry
From my home that's not in Surrey -- Surrey of the Potter lore --
Of the ugly, gormless halfwit whom the wizards do adore --
Blameless here for evermore.
Oh, the darkish dead undaunting devilry I drove before me
Thrilled me -- filled me with amazing powers never seen before;
So that all, to stem the evil of my heart, tried me defeating,
Through an utterance diverting notice from "Lord Voldemort" --
A dumb utterance diverting notice from "Lord Voldemort;" --
"You-Know-Who," a perfect bore.
Presently my strength grew stronger; unceasingly did I ponder,
As how I, and not another, could the Wizarding World reform;
For the fact is I was evil, and so quickly came upheaval,
And so strongly 'gainst retrieval, retrieval of the goodly norm,
That no trace of kindness held me -- here I gloated up a storm; --
Darkness here, and so hardcore.
Deep into that goodness sneering, long I stood there ruling, leering,
Daring, scheming schemes no mortals ever dared to scheme before;
But resistance was unbroken, and the righteous stood outspoken,
And their sole remaining token was the prophesy of yore.
This I learned of, and a worry nagged upon the prophesy of yore --
Really it could not ignore.
Back into my purpose turning, all my soul within me yearning,
So I plotted first attacking somewhat fiercer than before.
"Surely," said I, "Surely I am evil unmatched across the globe:
Let me see, then, what the threat is, and this enemy explore --
Let my heart immerse in evil and this enemy explore; --
Tis an infant -- score!"
Open here I flung my minions, disregarding wrong opinions,
To find the sacred secret hiding of the Potters and their boy;
Not the least informed was I; for happened I across a spy;
Who, disregarding friend and family, offered me the real McCoy --
Offered me the guarded secret of the Potters and their boy --
Offered, gave, then whinged galore.
Thus my posse journeyed stealthily to bid the Potters most unhealthily,
A most grave and fatal disruption to the secret they enjoy.
Though two lives shorn and deadened, I found my rein most splendid,
To my grim and great shock ended upon the forehead of the boy --
Tell me what thy magicky gift is, to break my power like a toy!
You whose name I so abhor.
Much have I marveled this ungainly foul child who exists so plainly,
Though my answer little substance -- little understanding sports;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blest with truly killing the great Voldemort --
Though man upon his goodness trusts, has not defeated Voldemort,
Ha ha, you really suck.