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The Widow's Sonnet
Today you touched my soul, though you are gone
Your piercing gaze still won't leave me alone
And though your years sans life have been so long
You watch me nightly from the great unknown
Why do you haunt me in this lonely night?
Why do you torment so my poor, lost soul?
You shall leave with the coming of the light.
So let not heartache be your true some goal
Though long the years, for you I still do care
Of you I'll think, but shall not pine
But absent not the love we still do share
And in the end our love togeth'r shall shine
Until that time, my love, please do you wait
For you are gone before, and I am late
The Widow's Sonnet
How Rowling Could End
Full title of this deviation is "How Rowling Could End the Series (but probably wont)"
True predictions shall be bolded
~Use the room of requirement to get everything they need
~Ask for horocruxes, get a map
~Ask to kill Voldemort, get some sort of a weapon
~ A Magical Venus Fly Trap eats Voldemort on the battle field. It was tended lovingly by Hagrid and Neville
~Voldemort is defeated by cheering charms/any other happy type charms.
~We finally find out where conjured things come from.
~(Remember those socks you lost in the wash last week?)
~Dumbledores Army declares war on Laura Mallory.
~Have Harry wake up and realize it was all a dream, there never was a Voldemort.
~Have Voldemort wake up and realize it was all a dream, there never was a Harry Potter.
~Have Tom Riddle wake up and suddenly have new direction in hi
The Lambda Legion dropship thundered in a blue sky over what had been Brasilia. The once proud human city was now in ruins. A few smaller buildings had survived the devastation of hundreds of years of disrepair and war. Ter'Nik looked out a small window, watching the city below.
"What a dump." Niterrel muttered, as she glanced out the window. Pushing off the side of the craft she walked back to where she had been sitting.
"It could be worse," Ter'Nik said, still watching the ground. The ruins got more and more contemporary as they flew closer to a Breed-controlled facility. He scratched his long, anteater-like nose with a long claw. He looked up at her. She looked more like a wolf though. He knew she was something called a Jackalhound. They were usually soldiers, so seeing a mage who was a Jackalhound he found rare.
"So, which century you from?"
"I'm not in the milit
The Undefeated Knight
Gallant knight, brave and bold, forward go
Championing justice for both high and low
Long ago, parents did name him Bob
And raised him eating corn on the cob
For a peasant farmer's son was he
Until called to battle for both king and country
He went forth with pitchfork, weapon of a farmer,
And absolutely awful abstracted armor
So strange he looked that the enemy fell back in fear
Not wanting such a man to come them near
And so the battle turned into a rout
Without any real fighting to brag about
As a celebrated hero returns now the knight
Never having fought in this or any other fight
Bo.When Lindsay was born, Bo was there. Standing beside her mother, he was the first thing she ever saw. But he was not her father; her father stood on the other side.
Bo was there until the very moment she died.
The sun shone bright through the windows of her pink-laden room. She loved pink. And black.
“Because Bo is black,” she’d told her parents.
Her imaginary friend, they soon concluded.
“Bo is all black,” she described one night as her father tucked her in, “His skin and his hair and everything. He doesn’t talk a lot.”
Her father frowned.
“He sounds scary.”
“He’s not,” she insisted.
Bo sat on the bed and said nothing.
Her father kissed her good night and turned out the light.
“Why can’t Dad see you?” she asked.
“Are you real?”
“Are you real?” he replied.
“How do you know?”
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