A rhymed four-lined stanza of iambic heptameter verse for each of various Harry Potter characters.
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling owns all. And, seeing various riddles and Sorting Hat songs, I can't even claim to write better poetry than she does! Ah well. I guess that's why she's paid, and I'm not...
How can one stand, I ask, beneath the shadow of the great?
How does one measure might or wisdom, choose a worthy fate?
I can but work to overcome my weakness, stand to fight,
And when the test shall come I can but hope to choose the right.
Great evil fills the glowering skies—I must the darkness fight;
The crumbling Ministry collapsed, for blinkered was its sight;
The Order's work I carry on, for hope is not yet gone,
And while hope lives I'll stand my ground and, steadfast, soldier on.
A flirt I was, a jealous flirt, a shallow, giggling girl;
The world was come to war, but what cared I? I could yet curl
My hair, and stain my lips, oh! what a foolish thing I was!
Yet in this year, and in this fight, I've served a higher cause.
What is this place? Another task? Why wouldn't they tell us so?
There ought be only three—though, true, we did not always know
What we would face; yet here seems different, evil, tainted, harmed:
Come, Harry, draw your wand! We ought not face this place unarmed.
The extra friend: I know I am, what can I offer them?
The Chosen One, the Brightest Witch, what could they need of him
Who is but selfish, useless; yet I now no more will flee
But will return, and hope I still can prove my loyalty.
I fought a past I swore to leave that came and claimed me still;
My chosen family was slain by my mistaken will;
Though thirteen years I needless paid I yet must make amends:
I want not my own safety; let me help you, dearest friends!
I look back on the lonely years and clench my weary soul:
The friends I've lost, the pain I monthly face—I am not whole.
But as life takes it also gives; though damaged, I yet fight,
And mayhap, twixt the battles, I have found a life, a light.
I've been a fool, I know it well, when I see what I've scorned;
A git, a prat, my brothers say, and was I not forewarned?
My stubborn pride that blinded me and slapped the welcoming hand—
My family, can you take me back? With you I'll make my stand!
A fraud, a fake, a charlatan: I know the names they say;
I grasp at tendrils lost to me, a Sight that passed away.
Cassandra's heir, I shrilly claim: don't cast me from my home!
But in the dark, blind, watchless night I see my reckoning come.
I've walked a lonely road, a path of hatred, path of spite;
I've sneered at humble good, embraced great wrong, adored its might;
I've served analogous, disparate men: gave one life, honor, all,
And all for love, for bitter grief, regret beyond recall.
A/N: I hope you liked this! It was really fun. Did you have a favorite character poem?
(I may possibly post more chapters, if I have an inclination to write more of these for more characters.)
Sophia the Scribe