Problems of a Sort
by Kevin
"Professor Haertily, please bring in the first years."
A gaggle of young students made their way towards the front of the Great Hall, obviously nervous from everybody watching them. Finally, the headmaster brought out a raggedy looking cap, which he set upon a stool facing them all.
Thus, the sorting hat began to sing:
"Hello, you younglings, to your
first year at this school
One by one you'll come up here
and sit upon this stool.
But there's something I must do
Before sorting can begin
And that's to warn you of
the House of Slytherin
Supposedly they're cunning
or some other nonsense schtick
Honestly, they look like they were
hit with the ugly stick
You see, Slytherins are quite loathsome
and known throughout the land
as having grotesque faces that even
their mothers cannot stand.
And as deformed as they may look,
You best hold your breath
Because catching their awful stench
could easily mean your death.
They smell like a goat pooped
on a pile of fetid cheese
not to mention their voices
which disturb even banshees.
Slimy reptilian reprobates,
sorting them takes its toll
I've still yet to meet one
that actually has a soul
So, please, I beg of you
If you're fated for silver and green
For all our sakes, find a cave,
and hide 'til you're seventeen!
The Great Hall descended into silence, and every single memeber of the staff was glaring at James Potter.
"They don't know I did it, right?" he whispered to his brother.
"Er, I'd run for it," Albus whispered back.
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