A/N: The Great Battle in a poem fic. Puppets, by Ruth Grahm Bell. You should read my great battle story told to Rosemary first. Words in normal font are copyright me. Voldemort, Hogwarts, Argus Filch, and the Malfoys are copyright J.K. Rowling.
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Puppets
Voldemort laughed his sadistic laugh remembered by all who heard it. He had successfully entered Hogwarts, and it was his for the taking. The teachers were sleeping, and the students had no idea what was going on.
The dark arts army marched through magically enlarged passage ways, to the heart of the whole school.
puppet,
poor puppet,
who's pulling your strings?
A few supporters didn't like the idea of conquering Hogwarts. It was too risky for them. They came.
Everyone came, if they wanted to or not.
Puppets can't answer
puppets just swing;
puppets hand there
Up and down, back and forth, Voldemort searched for the elusive "heart" of Hogwarts. Once he was there, the school would be his. And once the school was his, England would soon be his. Not too long after that, the world would be his.
Empty and sweet
kill on command
and pillage the street
The army made short work of Filch's office, searching for a map of Hogwarts. Nothin useful was found, not even Filch himself. He wouldn't give any inofrmation. Argus Filch is not more.
So they marched on. And on. Students stayed in their common rooms, like the teachers said to do before they went to sleep. Except one gang who decided to stop Voldemort—for good.
The confronted the army. Voldemort ordered his most trusted servant to help kill them all. Lucius Malfoy dutifully followed, until he realized one was his son—
Puppet,
poor puppet,
Who's pulling your strings?
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~Springrain