by Pandora Gotham
That dark, fateful night
Death rings out through the air.
Green flashes through the black,
Lives once cherished, now gone.
A cry rings out, all alone.
He sees his mummy upon the floor.
His body shakes with sobs,
His emerald eyes, swamped with tears.
A black cloaked man, lifts his wand,
He speaks those unforgivable words.
Green shoots out, rushing toward the infant,
And hits him upon the head.
The man screams, his body evaporating.
How? Had the spell bounced back?
The boy screams, a scar forms.
The man’s mangled soul drifts away; not dead.
For hours the boy screams,
Until a new man finds him.
Dumbledore; a kind, elderly man.
Gives him to his mean old aunt.
For years he is hated, but protected.
He is abused and mistreated, yet safe.
The Boy Who Lived...
Harry James Potter.
Death rings out through the air.
Green flashes through the black,
Lives once cherished, now gone.
A cry rings out, all alone.
He sees his mummy upon the floor.
His body shakes with sobs,
His emerald eyes, swamped with tears.
A black cloaked man, lifts his wand,
He speaks those unforgivable words.
Green shoots out, rushing toward the infant,
And hits him upon the head.
The man screams, his body evaporating.
How? Had the spell bounced back?
The boy screams, a scar forms.
The man’s mangled soul drifts away; not dead.
For hours the boy screams,
Until a new man finds him.
Dumbledore; a kind, elderly man.
Gives him to his mean old aunt.
For years he is hated, but protected.
He is abused and mistreated, yet safe.
The Boy Who Lived...
Harry James Potter.