Reluctant Grandmaster

I must seem to radiate omnipotence; I seem always merry and wise;

I confess that much of that is illusion, an old man's elaborate disguise.

I am merely mortal; my plans have possessed all too much fallibility;

Yet tensely I watch the battlefield, with the grandmaster's ability.

Not all of my wisdom is falsehood; experience lends me its voice;

So as I skillfully maneuver my allies, it guides me in each choice.

I have had to be a chess master, thus manipulating those I hold dear.

What else indeed can I do, when a madman makes all quake in fear?

Perseverant Remus, he acts as my bishop, and sly Severus, he as the rook;

And I, with my power, play the part of the queen, as over the king I look.

Dearest Harry, of course, is cast as the king, Ron and Hermione his knights;

This courageous trio rushes boldly and recklessly on, ever defending the Light.

Around these central pieces I cluster pawns, venerable but strong in their right;

Minerva, Alastor, Rubeus, Nymphadora; they all stand beside me in the night.

The pawns, the bishop, and even the knights may all have to die for their king;

There once were two bishops, after all, the fallen one precious to him as anything.

All depends now on the will of the queen, for the battle plans are stained blood-red;

I, in her place and hands still on the board, know that to win, blood must be shed.

Some of this spilt blood will belong to the king, he who I have placed in my heart—

Above the school and the whole of the world, which, I must now admit, wasn't smart.

I must be well prepared to make sacrifices, to watch each piece fall dead in its turn

And I might have managed if not for the king, and his pain with which I now burn.

I have watched his tears, his sorrow and suffering, enough to burden down any lord,

But I am the grandmaster, and cannot show compassion as I move him across the board.

For in all wars the lives of the many, regrettably, are bought by the lives of the few,

And in leading them thus, I must be ruthless and impartial in doing all that I must do.

But still I am only human, a weak creature of flesh, and each night afresh guilt starts;

There is no place to dwell on morals in my duty, but I possess the disadvantage of a heart.