Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine; they all belong to JK Rowling. The poem was inspired from a poem I read a couple of years ago.


His name was Harry

And this is what happened

When he was alive


His Aunt was a drunk

His Uncle abusive

They kept him

Locked in a cupboard under the stairs


His only friend

Was a baby blanket

It was old and worn out

And had holes


He always talked to it

When no one else was around

He would wrap it around himself and hug it

Without a peep or sound


Until his uncle

Unlocked the cupboard door

More and more pain

He'll have to endure


A bruise on his arm

A scar on his face

Why oh why he whispered to his blanket

Did he have to live in such a horrible place?


He grabbed his blanket

And softly cried

He loved his uncle

But he wanted him to die


Such a bad life

For a small child


Then one night

His aunt came home drunk

As hours went by

The little boy was repeatedly hit and slapped


Then his uncle suddenly

Grabbed for a blade

It was rusty and sharp


One that he made

He thrust the blade

Into his small chest

While shouting

"You deserve to die

You worthless pest"


They walked out

Leaving the boy slowly dying

He grabbed his blankey

And started crying


The wizards showed up

At the house

They quickly barged in


Dumbledore slowly

Opened a door

To find the sad little boy

Lying on the floor


The aging wizard finally

Realized it must have been bad

For the savior of the wizarding world

To go through so much harm


But at least he died

With his best friend in his arms