Summary: We don't know anything about Harry's ancestors, but this poem paints one picture of what could have happened. Journey back to one fateful night on a cold moor in Scotland, not too far from Hogwarts...
This ballad was written for the January Ballad Challenge and received first place!
Categories: Poetry Characters: None
Warnings: None
Challenges:
Series: None
Chapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 1101 Read: 1584
Published: 02/04/07 Updated: 02/07/07
1. Chapter 1 by LuthAn
Author's Notes:
This is just a little something that popped into my head after I read the Poetry Challenge prompt. I've always thought it interesting to imagine who Harry's ancestors were. Special thanks to my trusty beta, Nielawen, and to Gryffindor All-Star Kumy for helping me! Enjoy!
The Ballad Challenge: The Beginning
Across a barren Scottish moor
beneath the cold trees’ pall
we find the story of a lass,
the girl who started all.
Our story takes us there for now,
where cold wind comes in bursts.
This young girl met Sir Gryffindor,
and she became the first.
The first in a long line of names
that would do wizards proud.
Her descendant will be the last;
his scar will draw a crowd.
I’ll take you there and tell this tale,
and though you know the end,
you’ll want to know the twists and turns
and ways this tale does wend.
Because to tell the tale in full
would surely take some time,
I’ll give you the beginning here:
A snippet in a rhyme....
***
Although the moon shone bright and clear,
the lady, she did cry.
The dark could not conceal her tears
when Gryffindor rode by.
“My lady,” said the noble man,
dismounting from his horse.
“What man, what lass, what animal,
has caused you such remorse?”
“I’ve been shut out by family,
for what I do not know.
They’ve closed the doors and locked the gates;
I’ve nowhere else to go.”
Now, Gryffindor, he had a skill,
could see where magic lay.
He sensed some power in this girl;
he saw it, plain as day.
“My dear,” he said, all charm and grace,
“if I may make a guess,
I’d say it’s something magical
that’s put you in this mess?”
She turned her eyes up toward him
and raised one timid brow.
“Why sir, it’s true! You have guessed right.
But may I ask you how?”
Sir Godric smiled and tipped his hat;
he patted his steed pale.
“If you will ride this horse with me,
I’ll surely tell the tale.”
The young girl then did look around,
not able to decide.
But since her home was closed to her,
the horse she chose to ride.
“It seems you are a witch, my child,
and I a wizard, too.
A school named Hogwarts I did found;
that's where I’m taking you.
“My three good friends and I teach there,
a castle on a hill.
You’ll read and learn and practice some;
refine your magic skills.”
She smiled then, smile of relief,
seemed not to find it odd
to be told that she was a witch.
Instead muttered, “Thank God!”
Sir Godric raised befuddled brows,
she had confused his wits.
“It seems to me, my dear, you had
ere now suspected it?
“Suspected it? I did, but thought
for sure it was not true.
I’m glad, but in a quandary,
I know not what to do.”
“Why, your choice should be obvious!”
he said with a wide grin.
“You’ll come to Hogwarts School to find
where you truly fit in!”
“I thank you, sir, I really do,
but am not yet fifteen.
Too young am I to learn this now;
my skills are rather lean.”
The gallant man did give a laugh
as they rode ‘cross the glen.
“We teach all ages at the school;
some not older than ten!”
They rode together for a spell,
no sound from their mouths came.
Then Gryffindor, he turned to her:
“My child, what is your name?”
“It’s Grace, my lord. Grace Potter, sir,
the daughter of a man
all proud and fair and right and good,
gone too soon from this land.
“He was a wizard, too, ‘tis true,
until my mother died.
The magic must have left him then,
although he always tried.
“My stepmother, she fears it, sir,
all kinds of sorcery.
I’m banished, for her goal was to
protect her family.
“She thinks it was the wizardry
that made my father die.
Believes it will ‘infect’ us all,
although that is a lie.
“My father once explained to me
that magic lies within.
He thought I’d be a witch some day,
like others of our kin.
“At times I don’t believe that he
has truly gone away.
I wish he could be here with me
to witness this today.”
Sir Godric did not speak just then.
His throat was in a knot.
Grace knew not to disturb him now,
for he looked deep in thought.
“Grace, Charlus was his name, correct?
Your father, bless his soul.
You are surprised to find that he,
in my life, played a role?”
“It pleases me to know that he,
in his life, had known you.
When father was alive, good sir,
for you what did he do?”
“He saw me doing magic once
and knew right from the start
that with his patience and his help
we’d turn it into art.
“For days and weeks, nay, months and years
your father did school me
in spells and potions and the like;
fine arts of wizardry.
“He was the inspiration, dear,
for Hogwarts, as you’ll see.
I wanted all wizards to have
the same fortune as me.
“Rowena, Helga, Salazar”
my three co-founding friends”
knew Charlus, too, and saw how his
munificence extends.
“A better man I did not know,
and still do not today.
I grieved and moaned, lamented so,
to hear he’d passed away.
"True friend he was in times of need,
when I was but a boy.
To know that I will teach his child
would surely give him joy.”
She nodded as she felt the sting
of tears roll down her face.
“It’s true,” he said, his hand on hers.
“He was a great man, Grace.”
She could not find the words to say,
her heart seemed not to move.
But somewhere deep inside she knew
her father did approve.
Ten minutes more did pass before
Sir Godric spoke again.
“My child, take heart! We’re drawing near;
the castle’s ‘round this bend.”
He turned his head to watch her face
as Hogwarts came in view.
Her father’s eyes looked back at him.
She had his wide smile, too.
Sir Godric saw in Grace’s eyes
such wonder and delight.
He sensed her father’s spirit there,
witness to this great night.
He knew somehow that this girl was
the start of something new.
Could sense a bright future for her,
for her progeny, too.
The Potters surely would become
great pillars of their race.
And he knew that it started here,
with Charlus and his Grace.
Now Gryffindor, he was not sure
if he should say aloud
his thoughts just then, but say he did:
“Your father would be proud.”
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