Diagon Alley

In the London marketplace,
if you're not a muggle ;
To locate the Leaky Cauldron,
you won't have to struggle.
Tom the innkeeper
and his dingy, crowded pub.
For wizards, witches, hogs and vampires,
It is a common hub.
Pumpkin juice, butterbeer, firewhisky,
take your picks.
Then go to the backyard
and tap the bricks.
Sit back and
watch them unravel,
a gateway to a magical place
that has things to make you marvel.
The apothecary for all
your potion needs.
Beetle eyes and lizard tongues,
stuff that gives you the creeps.
Eeylops owl emporium
with barn, tawn, black and snowy owls
and cages and nuts
for these wise and useful fowls.
Quality Quidditch Supplies,
with all the latest things;
Brooms, safety equipment,
bludgers, quaffles and snitches with wings.
Flourish and Blotts'
for all your bookish needs,
stacked with leather- bound pages,
a haven for someone who loves to read.
Florean Fortescue's
Ice- Cream parlour,
Sitting in the sunshine
and eating with ardour.
Madame Malkin's Robes,
both casual and formal.
Tucked with pins,
till their size is normal.
The Menagerie,
with plentiful cats.
Owls and toads,
and skipping rats.
The great Gringotts,
with its columns tall and white.
It's golden treasure guarded by goblins
speaks of the wizarding banks' might.
Tap the bricks
and to the inn again,
where you fill your stomach
till you can't eat another grain.
 

T.G.I. weekends

We throw ourselves upon the beds
and exhale a sigh of ecstasy.
For though our sore kinds ache and hurt,
tonight it's okay to be lazy.
We recall with distaste
all those lessons which were boring,
and before we are aware of our drooping eyelids,
we are lying there, snoring.
We dream of saturdays
and of waking up late,
and playing wizards' chess
by the warm grate.
Of knitting hats and socks
to free the ungrateful elves,
and of going through fat books
on the various library shelves.
We dream of snowball fights,
and of trips to Hagrid's cottage,
of buying sugar quills
that are all the latest rage.
We dream of taking revenge on Peeves
in some ingenious way.
" Please make this weekend go ever so slowly"
we all pray.

Deceptive Divination

Crystal balls tell one's future,
Or do they?
You don't know what might happen in the next hour,
let alone the next day.
Though one's tea leaves
may tell one to die,
Don't think it's time yet
to say your goodbye.
Just chuck them in the bin,
where they rightly belong.
Most of these predictions
are usually wrong.
No matter how short you discover your life line is,
after doing palmistry,
don't let a few etchings on your skin
define your life's story.
If celestial bodies go to war
and Saturn and Neptune cross,
let them be ,for after all,
it's theirs, and not humanity's loss.
Dreams are just a fantasy,
of what might have been.
It's in waking up,
that reality is truly seen.
It's your choices that make you,
and not some seer's prophecies.
It's not someone making the decision for you,
but you making it that she sees.

The Boy Who Lived

Cursed and blessed
with a lightning scar.
Which not only his face ,
But his life did mar.
The boy who lived,
The chosen one.
Always living under the spotlight ,
And from it ,trying to run.
Like ghouls, making him relive
His terrifying past.
Which, if told in all its truth,
Would leave them all aghast.
Many who fought against him bravely,
Did die courageous deaths.
They were honored with peace
And there graves had warless wreaths.
He defied him just by living
And surviving his wrathful curse.
But he killed his parents,
And nothing could be worse.
He survived with the Dursleys
For years on end,
And then lived at Hogwarts
Where him , the Dursleys were forced to send.
He was the boy who lived
And defeated the evil wizard.
His name was enshrined in a million hearts
And stories of his bravery were forever heard.
But he did not want this glory, no,
He only wanted his friends
Who had stayed with him as he travelled along
His life's various roads and bends.