Potter in Poetry

Hey folks! So after a long hiatus, the Silver Doe is back and posting! What I have for you guys today is actually Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone--in verse!! Sounds fun, doesn't it? Well, before you get your hopes up, let me warn you that I wrote this way back when I was 12 or 13 and my writing skills were pretty under-developed...and I unearthed the 'manuscript' from the mess in my room and just thought I'd put it up here! So anyway, enough of my blabbering (I seem to have accidently drunk some Babbling Beverage that my house-elf left lying around)...

*

It was that very fateful night,

A few years ago,

Those were times of terror and misery,

From the dark, deadly foe;

Lord Voldemort entered the Potter home,

Committed murders there,

But came upon unexpected

And fled in despair.

Great were the rejoicings,

The dark forces had quit;

Young Harry was an orphan but safe

And Voldemort a mere spirit.

At Number 4, Privet Drive

The very same night

Appeared a tall wizard, and saw a tabby cat

(Which had been there since daylight)

It suddenly turned into a witch,

Who looked stern and wise;

And then, with a sudden roar, fell

A motorbike from the skies.

It carried a giant of a man

Hagrid was his name,

He held out a bundle and said,

"Young Harry's on the road to fame".

Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall

Bent over the orphaned thing

He'd escaped with but a cut on his forehead

Shaped like a bolt of lightening.

*

That's all for now, I gotto dash...please tell me you're not snoring already...remember I was *really* little when I wrote this :)

Read Part 2