Harry Potter and the Impossible Poem (Philosopher's Stone, I don't know why I haven't done a Sorcerer's Stone one yet except that philosopher sounds like a lot more stuff than sorcerer)

Potions class was almost over. Harry had just finished cleaning out his cauldron when Snape walked back up to the front of the room and assigned homework.

"You have homework due next class period. Write a poem about making potions. It must rhyme. It must be at least four lines long. If you want a good grade it must make sense. Now get out of my sight."

Harry groaned. He never would have thought Snape would be so cruel as to assign poetry. Ron was also groaning, but Hermione was already mumbling the words to what seemed to be an epic tale of potion brewing.

That night in the Gryffindor common room they all worked on their poems. The scratching of quills was broken only by periodic readings to test rhythm.

"Okay, I think I've got something," Ron said. He held up his parchment and read, "'The cauldron is empty before I begin/Because I need it to make potions in./I start to add the ingredients' wait, that's not going to rhyme with anything. I'd better change that." He scratched it out and wrote something else.

Harry peered at Ron's poem. "You replaced 'ingredients' with 'stuff'? Man, I can just see it now. Snape waves your paper in your face and says 'You add the what, Mr. Weasley?' and you say 'Stuff, sir.'" He laughed.

Ron glared at Harry, but his ears were turning pink in embarrassment. "Let's hear yours then, if it's so much better."

Harry read, "'The Potion should turn blue./Instead it sticks like glue./I've messed up once more./I bet I'll get a low score.'"

Ron laughed. Harry was indignant. "At least mine rhymes. And I never said 'stuff'."

Hermione sighed as she put down her quill and rubbed the cramps out of her hand. Ron and Harry stared at her poem. It filled the entire sheet of parchment, front and back, in Hermione's smallest handwriting.

"What did you do, Hermione? Put the recipe for every potion we've ever made into verse? He only asked for four lines!"

"Just because he sets a minimum doesn't mean that's all he wants, Ron! Now, I'm getting some sleep!"

Check out the next chapter for the finished poems!

Rin, Rin, Rin, and Rin: When you remember what you were going to say I'll respond to it. Until then, speechless at your speechlessness.

Buttered-onions and Buttered-onions: Hope you had fun at McDonalds. Yeah, you've been switching between saying Rodney and Reginald pretty much every review. Maybe it's just one weasel with a split personality.

Scarletngrayangel: Those are such great ideas! You've got a couple upcoming chapters dedicated to you now. Dudley looks like a balloon anyway, doesn't he?