Lord Voldemort and the Twin Terrors: A “Harry Potter” Holiday Tale
‘Twas the holiday season, the castle alight,
The lake frozen solid, the trees flecked with snow,
The grounds and the pathways were carpeted white,
The morning sky grayed and the night winds did blow.
And so through the halls (for outside was too cold)
Did Quirinus Quirrell take his mid-morning stroll.
While walking he loosened his turban a fraction,
Ensuring no students were milling about;
He had to take care – he’d cause quite a distraction
If someone caught sight of the eyes staring out.
From the back of his head, under turban concealed,
His master, Lord Voldemort, kept his eyes peeled.
“We’ve walked through this hall almost daily for months!”
Lord Voldemort grumbled when they were alone,
“And in all your searching, you haven’t – not once –
Found anything new about the Sorcerer’s Stone.
Really,” he jeered, “you’re an utter disgrace -“
Then THWACK! Something cold smacked him square in the face.
“What is this?” He spluttered, he coughed, and he spat;
Bewildered, he looked ’round, his eyes livid red.
He angrily queried, “Did you not feel that?”
But Quirrell’s soft turban had cushioned his head.
Furious now, he cried, “This is absurd!”
Then SMACK! came another, and SPLAT! came a third.
“This is an outrage!” Lord Voldemort cried,
As he blinked ice away, “Quirrell! What can you do?
These children are playing with snowballs inside!”
“Master, is there something troubling you?”
“You fool! Listen to me! I am the Dark Lord!”
But sadly, his cries were by Quirrell ignored.
“Quirrell! Look there!” Lord Voldemort whispered,
Suddenly conscious of being overheard.
At the end of the hall, three large snowballs hovered;
No doubt, it was their assault he had incurred.
They sped toward him with malicious intent
As he cursed the young rascals by whom they’d been sent.
SPLAT! The first snowball smashed into his eye,
It bounced back as WHOMP! Went two and then three
As they flew in again, ’round the corner he spied
Two boys, freckled faces contorted with glee.
SMACK! “How dare they -” THWACK! “Why, I should -“
WHUMP! “Quirrell, stop them!” FLUMP! “You’re no good!”
Incessant, they followed him, whizzed through the air,
They pelted and walloped and splattered and whacked;
If the turban fell, he’d give those boys a good scare,
He thought as they FLUMPed and they WHUMPed and they THWACKed.
He snarled and he spluttered, but to no avail;
For still he was SMACKed with ferocious, wet hail.
“Oho! It’s the Weasley twins! I should’ve known!”
Crowed a triumphant Filch as he came into view.
“Been tormenting teachers as they walk alone?
Well, it’s a whole week of detentions for you!
In the hospital wing you’ll be put to good use!
And Professor, your turban has come a bit loose.”
They didn’t realize it, the Weasleys confessed,
When Filch sadly ended their humorous sport;
It dawned on them riding the Hogwarts Express
“Were we throwing snowballs at Lord Voldemort?”
For Quirrell’s dark secret had then been unclear
And was only revealed at the end of the year.
The Weasleys already were legends renowned,
The tales of their exploits rang throughout the school.
But this new story, which they spread quickly around,
Made Fred and George Weasley the coolest of cool.
Ask any Hogwarts student, for all of them know
Of the day the twins pelted the Dark Lord with snow.
