The Hogwarts Poets' Society

Harry Potter was not a poet. He did not consider himself to be a poet, pretend to be a poet, or even show any interest in poetry at all. In fact, he knew that poetry existed, but wasn't exactly sure why. It just wasn't his thing. When you are busy trying to kill Evil Things, you don't worry too much about poetry. Unless, of course, you are Hermione Granger, in which case you would be able to spout random bits of useful poetry on demand. For the record, Harry Potter was not Hermione Granger.

Peeves, on the other hand, did consider himself to be a poet, and a rather good one at that. He loved to make up bits of insulting poetry and sing them at students. He personally felt that "Potter the Rotter" was his best work to date, and was trying to find a way to live up to this masterpiece.

Albus Dumbledore was the kind of poet that would write complex, nonsense limericks. Well, nonsense to anyone that didn't know the weird bits of Albus Dumbledore's mind. You know, with Dumbledore's reputation for secrecy, it's very possible that nobody knew the meanings of those limericks. Or maybe they didn't have any meaning at all and were just bits of nonsense that Dumbledore liked to write to drive people mad. It's very possible. He always did have a strange sense of humor.

Severus Snape and Minerva McGonagall, although very different in most aspects of their lives felt the same way about poetry. It was there, and they supposed it must serve some purpose, because people kept on writing it, but they really didn't care because it didn't affect them. It wasn't that they were very self-centered people (though Severus's habit of checking the ferocity of his glares in a mirror might suggest otherwise), it was just that they were rather focused on other, more-pressing matters. These matters would include teaching, assigning detention, giving looks that scare the living daylights out of first-years, and Quidditch. Of course, as teachers, they didn't officially take sides...well, yes, they did.

This does not explain why Dumbledore picked this group to be a part of the newly formed Hogwarts Poets Society, though it did create interesting gossip among faculty and student alike. It seemed very strange that people would start a Poet Society, especially when only two members had ever expressed any poetic ability at all.

"Kreacher, would you do me a favor?" asked Dumbledore one morning down in the kitchens. Kreacher looked up from his Newly Freed House Elf Weekly. He sneezed in response. "The new Hogwarts Poets Society is meeting tonight. Please find some volunteers to make some snacks." Kreacher nodded.

Dumbledore walked out of the kitchens humming. For all of those involved, this was probably not a good sign. When Dumbledore hums, he is up to something. The last time he hummed in such a way Snape had confessed that he was the faculty-room muffin top thief. There was something extra special about muffin tops, especially when they were sugar-coated and yummy. After you ate the muffin top, the rest of the muffin was disappointing. Snape did not like to be disappointed.

Dumbledore ambled around the school pointlessly until he came upon a classroom that was supposed to be empty, but wasn't. Sitting inside was Draco Malfoy, ranting at someone. Dumbledore stopped and listened. He didn't like having ranting students. Ranting students were usually unhappy. And ranting students usually meant that Dumbledore had the opportunity to manipulate somebody. Except, not manipulate in a bad way, you know. Just tweak things a bit, really.

"I haven't had anything good in three months," Malfoy was snarling. "We had a good set-up, Blaise and I, but nooo." He took a deep breath and continued on. "Pansy the pug had to be all girly and Blaise decides that girls are way more fun. Yeah, right! All they do is complain and demand things of you." His voice took on a mocking, high-pitched tone. "'Remember my birthday, remember our anniversary, and remember the exact location of every single time we ever interact.'"

Dumbledore almost laughed out loud but caught himself in time. Ah, so it was girl trouble. But, hadn't Draco said "Blaise"? That obviously meant his roommate Blaise. Ah. So it was boy trouble. How much more fun!

Hmm, but how to solve this interesting problem?

Ah...that's how.

Dumbledore strolled into the room, managing to look perfectly accidental. It was an acquired skill.

"Ah, Malfoy, excellent," said Dumbledore brightly. "There's a Hogwarts Poets Society meeting tonight in the astronomy tower and I want you to be there."

Malfoy spluttered, having been caught mid-rant about a lack of boy and asked to come to a meeting for poets. When he was finally capable of normal speech, he spoke.

"But, sir?" he said tentatively. "I'm not a poet."

Thank you Captain Obvious, thought Dumbledore. Or should I say Captain Oblivious?

"Oh, that doesn't matter," said Dumbledore lightly. He turned to leave. Then he stopped in the doorway ominously. "And, Malfoy?"

"Yes, sir?"

"You will be there," said Dumbledore pointedly before leaving. "Seven o'clock, do you understand?"

Malfoy nodded helplessly.

Malfoy fumed at the concept. He glared his way through the rest of the Saturday, sent scary glances at unsuspecting people throughout dinner, and when it was time to climb his way up to the damned astronomy tower, he did so menacingly.

"Ah, Draco, you're late," said Snape. Draco Malfoy was not, in fact, late, but he arrived exactly when he meant to. He didn't want to be stuck with Dumbledore any longer than he possibly had to and had, therefore, arrived exactly on time. It wasn't his fault that everyone else thought "on time" meant "at least five minutes early".

"Now we can get started!" said Dumbledore, clapping his hands together with a scary amount of enthusiasm. "Help yourself to some snacks and we'll get comfortable."

Nobody moved. That strange buzzing noise that seems to fill the room when everyone is silent and motionless filled the room.

"Ah, well, then if you aren't in a snacking sort of mood, let's get started!" said Dumbledore with a dangerous twinkle in his eye. Only Snape knew what that twinkle meant, and the sense of foreboding he felt meant that at least one person was going to face Imminent Doom!

Everyone simply stared at Dumbledore, except for Snape, who had stood up to warn the other members of the Hogwarts Poets Society that they may be a part of a plan that involves Imminent Doom, but was interrupted.

"Excellent, Severus!" cried Dumbledore happily. "Read us what you've got then."

Snape made a noise that sounded like a cross between a choke, a sputter, and a cry of delight. It was not, of course, a cry of delight, but the interrupted prophecy of Imminent Doom.

"Well, Professor?" drawled Malfoy. He loved to watch Snape squirm, mostly because of the time he had walked in on his father and Snape in a rather, er, compromising position. Draco shuddered involuntarily.

"I don't write poetry," Snape said smoothly. "But I have to warn you about-"

Dumbledore interrupted him again. "Oh, come on, Snape, you have to have something you can share with us!"

Snape scowled. With an encouraging look from Dumbledore that wasn't encouraging at all, but rather a threat hidden behind an encouraging look, he sighed.

"Fine!" he snapped. Then he cleared his throat and mumbled to the floor:

"Simmering cauldrons, alohomora

There is a girl named Nymphadora."

He stopped speaking and glared at everyone in the room.

"Oh, excellent, Severus!" cried Dumbledore. "Potter, you next!"

"But, sir, I know nothing about poetry," he said honestly. "And even if I did, why would I share it with Malfoy in the room?"

"Ah, now, Potter, don't be like that," said Malfoy. "I'm not that evil." His eyes glinted in a way that suggested otherwise, however.

"See, Harry?" said Dumbledore brightly. "We're all among friends here!"

"But I haven't written any poetry," cried Harry. "I have nothing to share!"

"Then make something up," said Snape darkly. "Or you'll soon be part of a plan of-" He was interrupted again.

"Yeah, Potter, make something up," said Peeves, making himself visible for the first time.

Harry stood up.

"Robes are black, my tie is red,

I want to drop something heavy

On Malfoy's head."

"Aw, Potter, that hurt my feelings," said Malfoy, pretending to pout. "Can't you think of something nice to say to me for once?" In reality, it had been fun to watch Harry squirm for a rhyme. He wanted to see it again.

"Look at the time!" cried Dumbledore! "We must be going! I have a meeting to attend!"

Almost everyone sighed in relief.

"Harry, Draco, if you'll just put these chair in that closet there," said Dumbledore. "Thanks so much!"

Harry and Draco therefore found themselves moving several chairs into a closet. At just the wrong time they both managed to be in the closet without one of them standing in the way of the door.

Oh crap, thought Snape. Here comes the plan of Imminent Doom.

He was right, of course, because Dumbledore chose that moment to slam the door shut and lock it.

Snape and McGonagall looked on in horror.

"What did you do, Albus?" cried Minerva with horror. "Let those boys out at once!"

"No," said Dumbledore stubbornly, much like a little child.

"At least let Draco out," said Snape.

"No," said Dumbledore again. Then he turned and walked away.

Despite their best, valiant efforts, Snape and McGonagall could not unlock Harry and Draco from the closet.