A Magic Talking Looking Glass by artemis of isles

Rating: PG
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 07/08/2004
Last Updated: 05/11/2004
Status: Completed

"She found it easy being pretty to hitch a ride into the city." A parody of how
Hermione helped Harry. A 128 line poem.




1. one shot
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**A Magic Talking Looking Glass**

*Warning: violence
Rate: PG
Word count: 827
AN: I shamelessly borrowed Roald Dahl's Revolting Poem snow white and seven dwarves. Anything
you recognise is not mine. All rights belong to Dahl and JKR.*

When young Hermione's aunt died,
The king Lockhart, her uncle, up and cried,
'Oh, what a nuisance, what a life!
‘Now I must find another wife.'
(It was never easy for a king
To find himself that sort of thing.)

He wrote to Witch Weekly magazine
And said, 'I'm looking for a Queen.'
At least ten thousand witches replied
And begged to be the royal bride.
Lockhart said with a shifty smile,
'I'd like to give each one a trial.'

However, in the end he favour'
A French lady called Miss Delacour.
Who brought along a curious toy
That seemed to give her endless joy.
This was a mirror framed in brass,
A magic talking looking-glass.

Ask it something day or night,
It always got the answer right.
For instance, if you were to say,
'Oh Mirror, what's for lunch today?'
The thing would answer in a trice,
'Today is, er, ze bouillabaisse.'

Now every day, week in, week out
The spoiled and snotty Queen would shout,
'Oh, Mirror, Mirror on ze vall
'oo is ze fairest of zem all?'
The Mirror answered every time,
'Oh madam, you're ze Queen sublime.
‘You're ze only one to charm us.
‘Queen, you are the cat's pyjamas.'

For ten whole years the silly Queen
Repeated this absurd routine.
Then suddenly one awful day,
She heard the Magic Mirror say,
'From now on, Queen you're *number two*,
*Hermione* is prettier zan you.'

Delacour went absolutely feral.
She yelled, 'I'm going to scrag zat gairl.
‘I'll cook 'er flaming fish! I’ll skin ‘er!
‘I'll ‘ave 'er rotten guts for dinner!'
She called the huntsman to her study.
She shouted at him, 'Listen 'Agrid buddy,
‘You drag zat filthy gairl outside.
‘See you take 'er for a ride!
‘Zereafter, slit 'er ribs apart
And bring me back 'er bleeding 'eart.'

Hagrid drag our dearest.
Deep, deep into the forest.
Fearing the worst, Hermione spake,
'Oh, please give me a break!'
Hagrid smiled, 'keep it down, yer highness.
I'd be daft to obey tha' rotten royal madness'
He sniffed, 'Good luck, off you go, dear of mine.'
Hermione hug the half-Giant and off she went.

Later Hagrid made a stop
Within the local butcher shop.
And there he bought for safety sake
A bullock's heart and one nice steak.

'Oh, Majesty! oh Queen!' he cried,
‘Tha' rotten 'ittle girl 'as died.
‘An' jus' ter prove I didn' cheat
‘I bought along these bits o' meat.'
The queen cried out, 'Bravissimo!
I trust you killed 'er nice and slow.'
Then, (this is the disgusting part,)
The Queen sat down and ate the heart!
(I only hope she cook it well.
Boiled heart can be tough as hell.)

While all of this was going on,
Oh where, oh where had Hermione gone?
She found it easy being pretty
To hitch a ride into the City.
And there she got a job in the British Library,
As a magical librarian and reading wizardry.

There she met seven boy warlocks,
Each one sporting strands of dreadlocks.
Quidditch players, all of them, but the seeker,
The green-eyed Harry made her heart flutter.

These seven boys though awfully nice
Were guilty of one shocking vice -
They squandered all of their resources
At Quidditch pitches betting matches.
(When they hadn't backed a winner
None of them got any dinner.)

One evening, Hermione said, 'Look here,
‘I think I got a great idea.
‘Just leave it all to me, okay?
‘And no more gambling till I say.'
That very night, at eventide
Darling Hermione hitched another ride.

And then, when it was very late
She slipped in through the palace gate.
Lockhart was in his counting house counting out his money.
Delacour was in the parlour eating bread and honey.
The footmen and servants slept,
So no one saw her as she crept
On tip-toe through the mighty hall
And grab the mirror off the wall.

As soon as she had got it back home
She told Harry, her to-be-groom,
To ask it what he wished to know
'Go on,' she shouted, 'have a go!'

'Oh Mirror, please don't joke!
‘Each one of us is stony broke!
‘Which team will win tomorrow's match,
‘The Wales Common weekly Quidditch?
The Mirror whispered sweet and low,
'The team's name is Mistletoe.'

The wizards went absolutely daft.
Harry smooched Hermione fore and aft.
Then they rushed away to rise some dough,
With which to back old Mistletoe:
They pawn their watched, sold their car;
Borrowed money near and far.
For much of it they had to thank
The goblin of the Gringotts' bank.

They went to Wales, of course,
Bet the winning team for once.
Thereafter, every single Saturday
The Mirror made the bookies pay.
Each wizard and Hermione got a share
And each was soon a millionaire.

Before long, our sweethearts got married.
In their park little Potters pranced about thrilled.
Which shows that gambling's not a sin
Provided that you always win.