Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling.

On the third day of Christmas my friend sent to me anger.

He found himself constantly at the bar; no longer seeing any danger.

White hot anger would consume him. Angry with everyone including himself.

He'd figured hiding at the bar would be better than striking at any stranger.

Hell, he is now a stranger and his friends are stranger themselves.

Bespectacled hazel eyes glowering at his reflection. The lives he endangered.

First learning about the prophecy, with his family, he should have left the continent.

Secrecy can protect you for so far but distance increases the odds. Back to nature?

Act as Muggles to have no so-called friends to protect them. Moving in a constant.

His fault. His young family would still be alive if they'd ran instead of being a savior.

Angry that he couldn't protect his son, wife, family, and country. No other option.

On the third day of Christmas my friend sent to me anger.

Another meeting without her husband. Feeling like being hampered,

By both her husband and life. Almost failing to noticed the fumbled apology.

Anger drove her to waddle across the room, where the man scampered.

Accosting him for no longer upholding his ideology.

It's his fault that her family fell apart. Where was he with this gold standard?

Why didn't he fight for her friendship? Chance for redemption was in fifth year.

Did he show remorse to other families affected by his or his group's demeanor?

Doesn't he realize that she couldn't be the first that he destroyed all that was dear?

That boy died when he uttered "Mudblood". Escorted away to be cleaner.

His damage has been done. His presence is more than she can bear.

On the third day of Christmas my friend sent to me anger.

Two friends went their separate ways to find their opposites.

The bookworm to many bars and the joker in search for the woman to pamper.

The debonair, with the Longbottoms, escorted the woman away from politics,

And the wornout man searching anxiously for an emotionally stranded Potter.

Useless words to soothe the woman; telling her that she needs to get off her crucifix.

Angering her. Don't they realize only she is trying to survive that plotter?

The friend searching the other's usual haunts. Depleting his bag of tricks,

He rues that fateful day when he helped sent their friends to that Masquerade.

Both friends, for separate reasons, realized that they are in a fix.

An angry wife and an absent husband, nothing makes them more afraid.