HOW REPETITIVE WERE YOU?

This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and situations elaborated herein.

A/N: Spoilers. Thanks to all my reviewers. I changed my mind; Voldemort demanded his own poem.

Riddle, young Riddle, how repetitive were you,
Rehearsing since birth how to be You-Know-Who?
Owning and hurting was what you found thrilling,
Hardly surprising that soon you were killing.

Orphaned, abandoned, your parents unknown,
You early decided your powers to hone
On mastery, vengeance and terror-creation;
So many ways to achieve domination.

Next there was Hogwarts for magical study,
Dark Arts and dark plans and murder mudbloody,
You tracked down your family, smugly destroyed them;
Magic and murder, how well you enjoyed them.

Trophies you kept with a double-edged goal,
Each sweet reminder a piece of your soul
Split and kept safely, six pieces plus you,
Ring, snake, cup, locket and diary too.

(There was another but we don't know what,
Nor Dumbledore either. It's strange he forgot
That Gryffindor left the school more than his sword;
The Sorting Hat's presence should not be ignored.

Was that why you came back to ask for employment?
A teacher's life wouldn't bring you much enjoyment
But Chamber and basilisk would have been handy
And stealing more relics much sweeter than candy.)

Horcruxes helped with your plans for dominion,
You couldn't be killed but you still needed minions,
A bloodthirsty gang with a blood-chilling name,
You called them Death Eaters to add to your fame.

Spider-webs weaving a world-web for trapping;
Spider-limbs greedy and grasping and grabbing;
Spider-heart glutted on life never-ending
Life's lessons wasted on longer-extending.

Babes are born fisted, to have and to hold,
But dead hands lie open; they've no need for gold.
Power and treasure are fleeting and past
Love is the measure that only will last.

This is the power of which you know nought.
It can't be stolen or bartered or bought,
Treasure much greater than any you've stored;
Lost in your haste to become the Dark Lord.

You dreamed of a world where all answered your will
Yet inside was a hole that you just couldn't fill;
The more that you owned, the more that you lusted,
The more that you ruled, the less that you trusted,

The more people feared you, the more you feared them,
And so from yourself did your foretold doom stem.
For the curse that you used on the Prophecy child
Just rebounded on you, and your own soul exiled.

After many attempts you've returned just the same,
With no change in your tactics, your thoughts or your aim,
You're still after Harry, you still think you're clever,
You still are the blindest and stupidest ever.

Lord Voldemort, oh how vicious are you
Vengeful and cruel and predictable too?
Dust you came from and to dust will you go
And to nothing return with still nothing to show.