"Why do they call it the shrieking shack?"
the little third year enquired
of the Gryffindor student Sirius Black
his enthusiasm so fired.
A wistful look upon Black's face
was followed by wicked grin
He knew too well about the place
After all, he had been in.
"They say," Black said, his eyes aglow
"that a bunch of third years died,
Because they all wanted to know
What made the howls inside."
He smirked, "They crept in one by one,
After breaking through this fence
You see they thought it would be fun
Because they were so dense."
The gullible third year listened well
believing every word
As if under Sirius' spell
Growing nervous as a bird.
"I don't quite know what found them there,
But I'd reckon it wasn't nice
They only found some scraps of hair
& a finger being chewed by some mice."
The students eyes were dinnerplate size
"Th...that's all that was left?" he stuttered
"'Cept for the hundreds & thousands of flies...
...and the *blood*" Black casually muttered.
The third year looked decide