When I still went to school with Muggles, one of the smartest people in the world gave me some advice.

'When what you want to say, is something you can't express out loud, write it.' His last name ended with…-tzer. I think and his first name…was Patrick…that's what all the kids called him. He was strict. He was in the marines before he became the English teacher for the small school my relatives had allowed me to attend. I called him Mr…Shartzer that was it. I had respect for him; I guess I still do if I'm following his advice.

Here goes nothing:

I remember a time, when my hands used to bleed

Hot oil and warm fumes

From the fire that burned

Screams for small transgressions

That my little mind

Could not even phantom

Then I saw my name

Ever so clear

On a post

Haven had come

There isn't fear there

Well not from family

Just from a megalomaniac

That was just like me

I didn't have to cook

I didn't have to clean

All I had to do

Was hold my wand steady

To hurt

To torture

To kill

The tears never stopped

I never felt more like the person

I was trying to destroy

Even the same person

Ruined our lives

I rather liked

Being in my cupboard

Reading in English

Learning new words

To put in a book

But when I was eleven

I was ripped away

To save a world

That could not salvage

For itself

I may not have

A muggle education

Or a mind like Voltaire's

But I know

The worser

Or these

Two evils

By Harry James Potter