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[podfic and poem] The Lord of the Manor

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Lord of the Manor

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'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the manor
Muggles were screaming, their voices, a clamour.
The prisoners hung upside down on the wall
speared by iron hooks which prevented their fall.
A pale young man held his wand in his hand
trembling under the Dark Lord's command
Upstairs in the Drawing room, Dinner was spread
upon the long dining table, the Dark Lord at its head.
Narcissa as stiff as a corpse in the snow
stared straight ahead in the fire's dim glow.
Lucius beside her, his hand on her knee,
a broken down man 'neath the tall Christmas tree.
And Draco below in the cellar, he knew;
kill or be killed, his choices were two.
Pointing his wand and incanting a spell,
green light hit the Muggle and downwards he fell.
A sinister noise rose up from the ground
the great snake, Nagini, her coils unwound.
Her muscular body intent on her goal
wrenched open her jaws and swallowed him whole
Up the stairs Draco flew, never daring to breathe,
reaching the landing and stopping to heave.
A cold voice rang out with a sharp angry hiss,
Demanding attention with a bang of his fist
"Now Yaxley! Macnair! Lucius and Narcissa!
Sit, Snape and then Goyle; the Carrows and Bella!
A Muggle to torture, a Mudblood to kill,
It's Christmas! The Season of fear and My will!"
Drifting above them, a woman swung low,
Brushing the table with the edge of her robes.
They laughed at her plight as knives scraped on plates,
And teased her and taunted her and spoke of her fate.
Draco slipped in to retake his seat,
His stomach recoiled at the the sight of her feet.
The glasses were raised as the woman up high,
swung over the table with blood in her eyes.
The Dark Lord, he opened a wriggling sack,
which Greyback had carried in on his back.
His eyes - how they shone! A deep bloody red,
His face white as lilies, the skin of the dead.
His thin lipless mouth turned up in a smile,
As the girl looked up vaguely, her body defiled.
The edge of his wand he held tight in his fist,
Coloured lights from his curses, coiled in mist,
He took every pleasure in watching her cry,
And shook when he laughed, as she begged him to die,
He called to his servant to lead her away,
preserved in the cellar, another day's play.
Draco glanced at his father, who stared at the floor,
then turned to his mother, who paled even more.
The Dark Lord smiled grimly going back to his plate
Making his plans that would seal Potter's fate.
A trip to a prison was his plan for that night
Grindelwald held the answers to end his plight.
And Potter would soon be captured and killed
For the wand that he'd hold, all his dreams could fulfil.
Toasting his followers a drink of delight,
"Happy Christmas to all, victory is in sight!"