Entry 2
By: BanaBatGirl

'Twas the night before the match, when all through the House
Not a student was stirring, not even my pet mouse;
The common room was decorated with Gryffindor flair,
In hopes that the Quidditch Cup trophy soon would be there;
My players were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of snitches and quaffles danced in their heads;
And the Head Girl in her witch’s hat, and I with my Captain’s patch,
Had just settled down to discuss the forthcoming match,
When up on the tower roof arose such a clatter,
I jumped from the couch to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew with much class,
Tore open the curtains and threw up the glass.
The full moon shining low over the green grass below
Gave everything a look like a painting by Van Gogh,
When, what to my disbelieving eyes and ears should appear,
But thick Russian accents, and someone yelling, “YO GRYFFINDOR, homies, we’re here!”
With a captain so handsome and looking so chum,
I knew in a moment that it was Viktor Krum.
More rapid than hippogriffs his broom couriers came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and pointed at his brooms by name;
"Now, Bluebottle! Now, Cleansweep! Now, Firebolt and Shooting Star!
On, Comet! On Nimbus! On, Oakshaft and Swiftstick! Oh there you are!
To the top of the tower! Hurry over the castle walls!
Now fly away! Fly away! Fly away all!"
As runaway hippogriffs avoid a death sentence must fly,
So too did the Quidditch professionals take to the sky,
Up to the tower-top the Quidditch team sure flew,
With extra brooms in their hands, even Viktor Krum carried one too.
And then, like a dream come true, I heard on the roof
The landing and dismounting that functioned as proof.
As I itched at my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney came Krum with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his hat to his boots,
And his clothes were looking dusty with ashes and soot;
A bundle of broomsticks he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a Knockturn Alley hag just opening her pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! His hair was so sleek!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a beak!
His thin little mouth formed a rare smile,
And I could tell that staying up this late was totally worth my while;
The Head Girl next to me seemed about to faint,
That or she was going to start worshipping him like a saint;
Krum had a tan face and absolutely no belly,
I was so nervous my legs shook like jelly.
He was muscular and trim, and as sprightly as a house elf,
And I laughed girlishly when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wiggle of his eyebrows and a tilt of his head,
Soon let me know I had nothing to dread;
He did not dare speak but went straight to his work,
And lined up all the broomsticks; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his large nose,
And giving a nod, like magic, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to HIS broom, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like one of those Muggle missles.
But I heard him exclaim, as he zoomed out of sight,
"Good luck in tomorrow’s match, Gryffindor, and to all a good-night."