"gringotts" poems
No kidding.
Someone,
under cover of night
or another invisibility cloak
or thanks to those goblins in Gringotts,
sneaked into Bellatrix’s bank vault
and stole the sword of Gryffindor.
What do you do with
a sword of that caliber?
Do you use it to help
the house elves in the kitchen?
Slicing bread, chopping vegetables, and cutting meat while they stare at you in awe?
Or set it on the shelf in the headmaster’s office
the same shelf above the beautiful fire Phoenix
you watched explode.
Place it next to the snapshot of Dumbledore,
smiling and winking at you
and make tiresome jokes about how it belonged to
Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived.
Or do you tuck it in the bottom of the sorting hat that placed you into Gryffindor in the first place,
wrapped in the scarf Fawkes brought you from
Dumbledore’s office?
Do you take it out when you need to defeat the basilisk or stab some horcruxes and you don’t have a venomous fang to use instead?
And do you think there in your common room,
with the dementors circling around the school, and
He Who Shall Not Be Named back again, that you could wield the sword and think you’re the
Chosen One?
Jun 30, 2018
Jun 30, 2018 at 1:25 PM UTC
In the abyss of the Gringotts
laid the secrets buried deep inside
and the most hideous and the sinister ones
were the ones, guarded the most
to be seen not by ones with the faint heart
and repressed so to keep the evil apart
Alas but would they realize?
that the demons weren't conceived of the material creed
Not to be split or be torn apart
but to be confronted by the ones with a noble heart
And She wasn't blessed by a lion's heart
So she chose to become the demon herself
As only the demons aren't afraid of one of their clan
She was the master of self manipulation
Jul 16, 2019
Jul 16, 2019 at 12:18 PM UTC