It was a good poem, Draco thought, as he passed it quietly to a first year Slytherin. Grant knew better than to speak to Potter and Weasley at least, even if he was still head over heels with Pansy Parkinson of all people. Well, he'd figure that one out soon enough. Slytherins always did get wise to the jealousy trap. Let Potter and Weasley try and pry who was sending these out of a bevenomed Slytherin trap.
Some people are blunt and to the point,
Their minds like a club or a mace.
Others are quiet, silent things,
a garotte in the dark, or a dagger in the back.
Some are overbalanced, requiring strength to wield -
A bastard sword, or a two-handed headsman's axe.
All of these are neither you nor me.
You are a battering ram, more suited to buildings than mortal men.
Edifices of stone, morals shatter cleaner than bone.
And me? I'm a swordbreaker.
A terrible choice for the finishing blow -
but the perfect choice to leave your enemy defenseless,
a shattered katana his only defense.
It was a good tale, and fit with those ridiculous hats Granger was knitting in her copious (mythical!) spare time. She was just like that, someone who would see Great Wrongs and figure she could right them by simple force of personality alone. Some might term it arrogance, but that wasn't quite it - it was sanctimonious hubris. She'd never manage it by herself, of course - Gryffindor bravery was far more suited to other tasks than changing people's minds. That was a Slytherin art, well honed and polished.
[a/n: up next, Potter and Weasley].