12, Grimmauld Place

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In the Noble House of Black,

You’ll be welcomed with taunts and shrieks

And slave heads shall greet you from the rack,

In the Noble House of Black.

For hiding secrets, its walls have a knack,

So be careful when a wooden step creaks.

In the Noble House of Black,

You’ll be welcomed with taunts and shrieks.

~Diksha

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A Champion Dead

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Home I brought,

His Champion, dead;

The father’s cries

Still ring in my head;

Cold, grey eyes

Stared up, undead.

A boy of seventeen

Now lay on his eternal bed;

To bring about his end

Had been my stead;

Guiltily, I look at his visage

On his immortal, wooden bed.

A decade old enmity

Had lain my parents dead

And now this innocent boy

Whose father stood with tears unshed;

Squeezing my eyes shut, I wonder,

Why couldn’t it have been me instead?

~Diksha

Flights of Fancy

When life lands you up in situations where it is impossible to express your emotions, what do you do? When thousands of insane ideas tumble around in your mind, gasping to be let out, what do you do? When a streak of sudden, unintentional creativity serves you up with a beautiful story, what do you do?

My mind muddles up when I think about all the wonderful ways in which people can express their feelings. Tell their story. Or someone else’s. Create something of their own. From nothing. To everything.

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