Lavender Brown heard the news

of an urgency which required her due.

On some magic she traveled, flew

and became in the embrace of what to her was true.

He looked like a mere morsel

as if the world was imbibing the mortal

while her prowess willed away

the kind of evil that tried to parlay

his eventual stay.

She caressed the gentle,

the-close-to-her, bundle,

sprinkling her care with days to mend

while slaying the pawns, the ravager-of-bodies sent.

Like a swathed lamb, he's redeemed.

With brightened eyes, he seamed

together a certain claim

about how the past few (units of time) was kind of lame.

He was sodden with regaled feats

of how now he can wiggle his feet.

Binky nudged her with his nose

and did frolicks that could write prose.

He then led her away with a passing line:

a quip about the afterlife's wine.