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Witches, warlocks, goblins frightening,
there's even a man with a head of lightning.
They talk and chatter in anticipation,
and drink some water to avoid dehydration.
These creatures wait and stand in line
to finally read page seven hundred and fifty-nine.
Granted it's only 5 pm of the 20th of July,
but they sit in the heat as the sun moves by.
For hours speculation and wonder fills the air.
Will the great protagonist defeat you-know-who in his lair?
Then the clock strikes sixty before one,
and the tumult begins to run.
Suddenly, the back of the line hears a bunch of cries.
Apparently a boy has screamed "Harry Potter dies!"