One red leather seat
Eighty-seven red leather seats
Golden sheen of the mace
Black over their shoulders

White cloth banded over sight
Upright hand of upright spirit
A golden scale in one
The glimmering blade in another

Words carved on the starch
Under the flag, written
These that bond us
Restrict us, Set us, Show us

Yet when the path astray is led
The cries of
The rightful the just
Go mum and mute and silent and hushed

The red leather seats
In present turn into thrones of
Knives and fire
As Draco watches on, envious

In books, in schools
We preach, often
Events we fear we repeat
Words we fear we echo

But unbeknownst we do
Betwixt our hurried steps and
False grips on reality
We again allow its passage

First they came for
And I did not speak out
Because I was not
And there was no one left to speak for