I had not thought Death Eaters had undone so many.

(i am so, so sorry.)


Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Poet
"Nam Sibyllam quidem Hogwarti ego ipse oculis meis
vidi in turrem pendere, et cum illi pueri dicerent:
Σιβυλλα τι θελεις; respondebat illa: Θελω ενα ποτο."

For Albus Dumbledore
il miglior mago



I. THE BURIAL OF THE WOLFSBANE

JUNE is the cruellest month, breeding
Voldemort out of the dead land, mixing
Crucio and Imperius, stirring
Harry to behave like a prat.
Winter kept us playing Quidditch, flying         5
Around with the stupid sport, ignoring
Our coursework until the exams.
Spare time surprised us, bringing us to Hogsmeade
For a weekend with friends; we went to the inn,
And carried on laughing, into the Three Broomsticks,         10
And drank butterbeer, and plotted for an hour.
Bin gar keine Dark Wizard, stamm' aus Gryffindor, echt Weasley.
And when we were children, staying at the Burrow,
My friend's, he took me up on a broom,
And I was frightened. He said, 'Mione,         15
'Mione, hold on tight. And up we went.
In the country, there you feel free.
I read, most of the night, and go back to school in the winter.

What are the plot-threads that clutch, what subplots grow
Out of this pulpy rubbish? Son of James,         20
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
Your third-person limited perspective, where your adverbs breed,
And the caps lock gives no shelter, the chapter no relief,
And the seventh book no sign of surcease. Only
There is a horcrux inside this dark cave,         25
(Come into the waters of this dark cave),
And I will show you something different from either
Your battles fought previous where someone did help you
Or your battles to come which you must face alone;
I will show you fear in a cupful of juice.         30
                Frisch weht der Plot
                Der Bookshelves zu.
                Mein Chosen Kind,
                Wo whinest du?
"You gave me the prophecy first a year ago;         35
They called me the Chosen One."
—Yet when we came back, late, from the TriWizard Tournament,
Your wand out, and your eyes wild, I could not
Speak, and my spells failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,         40
Looking into the champion of Light, the silence.
Oed' und leer das Seer.

Madame Trelawney, famous clairvoyante,
Had a bad cold, nevertheless
Is known to be the wisest woman in Hogwarts,         45
With a wicked pack of cards. Here, said she,
Is your card, the drowned Hogwarts Headmaster,
(Those are bezoars that were his eyes. Look!)
Here is Fleur, the Lady of the Wands,
The lady of embarassing situations.          50
Here is the woman with pink hair, and here the Owl,
And here is the one-eyed auror, and this card,
Which is blank, is something he carries in his flask,
Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find
The Dark Lord. Fear death by fanfic.         55
I see crowds of people, walking round in the Floo.
Thank you. If you see dear Minister Fudge,
Tell him I bring the prophecy myself:
One must be so careful these days.

Unreal City,         60
Under the green mark of an Imperius curse,
A crowd flowed into Diagon Alley, so many,
I had not thought Death Eaters had undone so many.
Hexes, short and infrequent, were exhaled,
And each man fixed his eyes upon his wand.         65
Flowed through the gate and into the Leaky Cauldron,
To where Tom the bartender polished the glasses
With a faint nod for the niceties of canon.
There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying: "Remus!
"You who were with me at Hogwarts in Book 3!         70
"That Wolfsbane you planted last year in your garden,
"Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?
"Or has the sudden chaos disturbed its bed?
"O keep the Dog far hence, that's partly men,
"Or with his nails he'll dig it up again!         75
"You! hypocrite lecturer!—mon professeur,—mon loup!'


II. A GAME OF WIZARD CHESS

THE Chair he sat in, like a burnished throne,
Sat afront the classroom, where the cauldrons
Hang on stands wrought with fruited vines
From which a mandrake root peeped out          80
(Another hid its eyes behind its leaf)
Doubled the flames of the warming fire
Reflecting light from the cauldron-warmers as
The glitter of his eyes rose to meet it,
From sallowed cheeks and under greasy hair.          85
In vials of ivory and coloured glass
Unstoppered, lurked his strange synthetic potions,
Unguent, powdered, or liquid—troubled, confused
And drowned the sense in odours; stirred by the air
That crept into the dungeon, these ascended          90
In fattening the prolonged candle-flames,
Flung their smoke into the storage room,
Stirring the pattern on the coffered ceiling.
Huge pewter lined with copper
Burned green and silver, boiled by the colored fire,          95
In which sad light a class began to learn.
Above the storage shelf was displayed
As through a window gave upon the sylvan scene
The Whomping Willow, by Marauders gone
So rudely forced; yet there the Shrieking Shack          100
Filled all the village with inviolable voice
And still it moaned, and still the curious heard,
"Ten points from Gryffindor."
And other withered points of house
Were deducted from the children, as though we care.          105
Footsteps shuffled in the secret passage.
Points on the map, under the portrait, his sneer
Spread out into the dungeon
Hissed into words, then would be savagely still.          110

"The Dark Lord is out to-night. Yes, out. I go with him.
"Speak to me. Why do you never speak. Speak.
"Why are you out of your dormitory? Why out? Why?
"I never know why you are sneaking. Sneak.

I think we are in rats' alley         115
Where the traitor lost his hand.

'What is that noise?
                      The werewolf under the door.
'What is that noise now? What is the wolf doing?'
                      Nothing again nothing.         120
                                              'Do
'You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember
'Nothing?'
  I remember
Those are scars upon his face.          125
'Are you a wolf, or not? Is there nothing in your jaws?'
                                                         But
O O O O that Slitherian Rag—
It's so elegant
So intelligent          130
"What shall I do now? What shall I do?"
"I shall rush out as I am, and walk the street
"With my wand out, so. What shall we do tomorrow?
"What shall we ever do?"
                          Herbology at ten.         135
And if it rains, the common room at four.
And we shall play a game of wizard chess,
Watching knights carefully and waiting for a Weasley's Wizarding Wheeze.

When Umbridge gave detention, I said —
I didn't mince my words, I said to him myself,          140
I SOLEMNLY SWEAR I AM UP TO NO GOOD
Now Albus's coming back, make yourself a bit smart.
He'll want to know what you done with that memory he gave you
To get yourself some backstory. He did, you were there.
You take this all, Harry, and figure it out,          145
He said, I swear, I can't trust you to remember.
I couldn't think of a way, he said, and think of poor Albus,
He's been in this war for years, he wants a good rest,
And if you don't figure it out for him, there's others will, I said.
Oh is there, he said. Something o'that, I said.          150
Then I'll know who to ask, he said, and give me a straight look.
I SOLEMNLY SWEAR I AM UP TO NO GOOD
If you can't figure it out I can get on with it, I said.
Others can put it together if you can't.
But if Albus dies off, it won't be for a lack of knowing.          155
You ought to be so ashamed, I said, to be so obsessed with Malfoy.
(And him not even a Death Eater yet.)
I can't help it, Harry said, pulling a long face,
It's them Slytherins I see, they make me suspicious, he said.
(He's spotted five already, and nearly got pitched out a train window.)          160
Madame Pomfrey said it would be all right, but I've never been the same.
You are a proper prat, I said.
Well, if Albus won't tell you more, there it is, I said,
What you go to his office for if you don't want crypticism?
I SOLEMNLY SWEAR I AM UP TO NO GOOD         165
Well, that Sunday Albus called you back, he had a new memory,
And he asked you in to watch it, to get the beauty of it experienced—
I SOLEMNLY SWEAR I AM UP TO NO GOOD
I SOLEMNLY SWEAR I AM UP TO NO GOOD
Goonight Seamus. Goonight Dean. Goonight Ginny. Goonight.          170
Ta ta. Goonight. Goonight.
Good night, Gryffindors, good night, brave Gryffindors, good night, good night.


III. THE FIRE POTION
THE tower’s stairs are broken; the last fingers of stone
Clutch and sink into the castle floor. The wind
Crosses the broken land, unheard. The nymphs are departed.         175
Sweet Fawkes, burn softly, till I end my song.
The school’s lake bears no empty bottles, candy wrappers,
Trick handkerchiefs, cardboard boxes, sugar quill ends
Or other testimony of children’s trash. The nymphs are departed.
And their friends, the loitering figures of friendly Aurors;         180
Departed, have left no addresses.
By the waters of the lake I sat down and wept . . .
Sweet Fawkes, burn softly till I end my song,
Sweet Fawkes, burn softly, for I speak not loud or long.
But at my back in a cold blast I hear         185
The scream of my mother, and chuckle spread from ear to ear.

A rat crept softly through the vegetation
Dragging its slimy belly on the bank
While I was searching in the Shrieking Shack
On a summer evening round beneath the Willow         190
Musing upon the mage my godfather’s wreck
And on the mage my father's death before him.
Dementors floating o’er the low damp ground
And frost left in a little low dry garret,
Rattled by the rat's foot only, year to year.         195
But at my back from time to time I hear
The sound of wings and gryffins, which shall bring
Sirius to Mr. Potter in the spring.
O the moon shone bright on Mr. Potter
Who has no daughter         200
Whose feet to wash in soda water
Et O ces voix d'enfants, chantant dans les dortoirs!

Squawk squawk squawk
Chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp
So sweetly sung.         205
Toodle-oo

Unreal City
Under the brown fog of an autumn noon
Mr. Borgin the antiques merchant
Unshaven, with a pocket full of currants         210
C.i.f. London: documents at sight,
Asked me in sly Parseltongue
To luncheon at the Leaky Cauldron Inn
Followed by a weekend trip to Hogsmeade.

At the witching hour, when the eyes and back         215
Turn upward from their shops, when the human wizards wait
Like a knight bus throbbing waiting,
I Firenze, though centaur, throbbing between two halves,
Young man with equine hindquarters, can see
At the witching hour, the evening hour that strives         220
Homeward, and brings the mermen home to sea,
The teacher home at teatime, clears her papers, lights
Her stove, and lays out biscuits in tins.
Out of the window perilously spread
Her drying incantations touched by the sun's last rays,         225
On the teacups are piled (quite like a bed)
Sunbeams, slippers, coloured shawls, and stays.
I Firenze, young man with horsey mane
Perceived the scene and foretold the rest—
I too awaited the expected guest.         230
He, the young man prophesied, arrives,
The red house sports team’s captain, with one bold scar,
One of the brave on whom assurance sits
As Death Eaters gone straight after the war
The tea leaves conjure naught but sodden messes,
The class continues, he is bored and tired,
She endeavours to engage him in her guesses         235
Which are still unproven and quite undesired.
Flushed and unhappy, he recoils at once;
But minds unstudied offer no defence;         240
His vanity yet can’t provide response,
and wishes she’d accept indifference.
(And I Firenze have foresuffered all
Enacted on this same remote high tower;
I who have sat by Ronan along the wall         245
And walked among the forest leaf and flower.)
Bestows one final patronising ‘ma’am,’
And gropes his way, finding the stairs quite steep . . .

She turns and looks a moment in her glass,
He seizes the moment and then runs for cover;         250
His brain allows one half-formed thought to pass:
'Well now that's done: and I'm glad it's over.'
When prophet woman stoops to folly and
Paces about her room again, alone,
She smoothes her hair with slightly shaky hand,         255
And puts a record on the gramophone.

‘Oh, come and stir my cauldron’
And along the Strand, up Diagon Alley.
O Magic magic, I can sometimes hear
Beside a barred-off pub in Knockturn Alley         260
The pleasant whining of a mandoline
And a clatter and a chatter from within
Where witches lounge at noon: where the walls
Of happy Hogwarts hold
Magnificent splendour of Gryffindor red and gold.         265

      The castle sweats
      Snakes and sparks
      The carriages drift
      With the thestral herd
      Red eyes         270
      Wide
      To leeward, swings on the heavy spar.
      The carriages
      Drift across logs
      Down Hogsmeade’s stretch         275
      Past wolves and dogs.
            Avadada kedavra
            Avadda kedavrara

      Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint
      Beaters both         280
      The seats were filled
      A gilded ball
      Red and gold
      The quaffle
      Rippled both sides          285
      Southwest wind
      Carried down field
      The peal of yells
      Stone towers
            Avadada kedavra         290
            Avadda kedavrara

'Brooms and nearby trees.
The Weasleys beat me. Crabbe and Goyle
Undid me. By halftime I raised my knees
Astride the back of a narrow Firebolt.'         295
'My feet are at Quidditch and my heart
Under my feet. After the match
He wept. He promised "a new start."
I made no comment. What should I resent?'
'At Grimmauld Place.         300
I can connect
Nothing with nothing.
The broken furniture of dirty rooms.
The portraits horrid portraits who expect
Nothing.'         305
      da vra

To Hogwarts then I came
Burning burning burning burning
Albus thou pluckest me out
Albus thou pluckest         310

burning


IV. DEATH BY MAGUS
ALBUS the Magician, a fortnight dead,
Forgot the cries of students, and the giant squid
And the aurors and elves.
                          A certain colleague then         315
Crushed his bones with whispers. As he rose and fell
He passed the stages of his age and youth
Tumbling off the castle.
                          Gryffindor and Slytherin, too
O you who flick your wands and look to spellwork,          320
Consider Albus, who was once headmaster and young as you.


V. WHAT THE HEADMASTER SAID
AFTER the scars torn red on pretty faces
After the frosty silence on the tower
After the agony in stony hallways
The shouting and the crying         325
Prison and schoolhouse and reverberation
Of thunder of giants over distant mountains
He who was living is now dead
We who were living are now dying
With little education         330

Here there is no sky but only cave
Cave and water and the ambling dead
The boat rocking perilously over their graves
Which are caves themselves made of water
If there were sky we should stop and think         335
Confronted with the potion there is to drink
Blood is spilt and bodies in the sea
If there were only another way around
Dead mountain mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit
Here one can neither stand nor lie nor sit         340
There is no visible entrance in the caverns
But blazing silvered archway lies in wait
There is not even solitude in the caverns
But dead pale faces sneer and snarl
From dank reflective waters         345
          If there were sky
  And no cave
  If there were cave
  And also sky
  A star         350
  The moon among the cave
  If there were the horcrux trial only
  Not the blank wall
  And human hand clutching
  But the glimmer of night air blowing         345
  Where that damn fake Latin word for zombie shambles in the water
  Urrrrgh ugh urrrgh ugh urrrgh ugh urrrgh ugh
  But there is no sky

Who is that form who walks always beside you?
When I count, there are only you and I together         360
But when I look ahead up to the island
There is always another one walking beside you
Running, antlers tossing back and forth, four-footed
I do not know whether a man or a woman
—But who is that on the other side of you?         365

What is that sound high in the air
Murmur of infernal lamentation
Who are those hooded hordes swarming
Over endless plains, released from their prison
Sucking the souls gleefully         370
What is that prison out in the waters
Cracks and reforms and holding the history
Of wizardry
Gryffindor Slytherin Ravenclaw
Hufflepuff Voldemort         375
Unreal

The wizard drew the boat-chain out tight
And gazed into the phosphorescent glow
The potion sat and simmered in the endless night
Eyes met, and the fatal blow         380
Comes not from hand but liquid.
And in his hand the goblet
Again and again, drained down to droplet
And pleas for mercy ring around the exhausted well.

In this stone castle among the mountains         385
In the faint moonlight, the nymphs are singing
Over the tumbled graves, about his office
There is his empty office, only the wind's home.
It has no windows, and the door locked,
Portraits can harm no one.         390
Only a phoenix stood by its perch
Co co rico co co rico
Then its flash of fire. Then a damp gust
Bringing rain

Hogwarts was sunken, and the students         395
Waited for rain, while the black clouds
Gathered far distant, over Hogsmeade.
The forest crouched, humped in silence.
Then spoke the headmaster
TWEAK         400
Nitwit: what have we given?
My friend, blood shaking my heart
The awful daring of a gold snitch captured
Which a score of scored goals can never equal
By this, and this only, we have existed         405
Which is not to be found in our diaries
Or in memories draped by the oversized spider
Or under seals broken by the pink-haired auror
In our requirement rooms
TWEAK         410
Oddiment: I have heard Dementors
Leave their posts once and leave once only
We think of the Dementors, each in our prisons
Thinking of Dementors, each confirms a prison
Only at nightfall, delirious rumours         415
Revive for a moment a broken Lucius Malfoy
TWEAK
Blubber: The boats responded
Gaily, to the hand expert using wands to steer
The sea was calm, the first-years have responded         420
Gaily, when transported, beating obedient
To professorial hands

                      I sat upon the shore
Fishing, with the giant squid beneath me
Shall I at least set my schoolbooks in order?         425

Voldemort is falling down falling down falling down

Poi s'ascose nel foco che gli affina
Quando fiam ceu phoenix—O phoenix phoenix
Le Prince de Moitié-Sang à la tour abolie          430
These fragments I have shored against my ruins
Why then Ile fit you. Mooney’s mad againe.
Nitwit. Oddiment. Blubber. Tweak.

            Mischief managed.





[Credit where credit is due: This entire horror perpetrated in fairly equal parts by ladysisyphus (that's I) and rahaeli -- and is pretty funny, considering that the original joke involved 'The Hollow Men.' The original poem is by T.S. Eliot; characters, situations, and jargon from J.K. Rowling; both stolen and abused with all due respect. No infringement or profit intended -- though if you like it, buy one of us a drink sometime. All errors intentional (except the ones that aren't), and this includes any abuse done to languages that are not English. Useless notes theoretically forthcoming. It's parody, folks. Funny. Don't bother telling us we have too much free time; we know. I regret nothing except that it probably took longer to format into HTML than it took to write. Readers should feel free to flame, laugh, cry, spit soda at their monitors, curse, whinge, and/or link wherever you see fit.]