Snake In Lion's Skin

The Gryffindor knows no bounds when offering her aid.
She desires simple peace and only gives advice to please.
Don't show her your secrets, unless you want defeat.
Sudden silence means only one thing:
Stray from her mind and know you mustn’t scream.
Its not her fault.
She sees nothing but doubts.
The light she may seek, but it’s the darkness that’s in her dreams.
Courage is her game, intellect her trade.

“She’s an Angel-in-Disguise!”
The words of fools she misguides.
“Can’t you see, she’s the real enemy?”
The only ones who know have felonies.
“You can’t stop her, she’s insane.”
Of course she is, when was she ever tamed?

Mudblood is what the corrupted shout, hoping to make her bow.
Hermione is what her friends, caught in the past, call her.
They think she’s still their Virgin Queen, hopelessly awaiting her turn.
Ms. Granger is what the ones who are forced to give her a name hiss in misbegotten spite.
Do they really think she cares, even if she secretly knows they’re right?
You is what everyone else who’s near-sighted chant repeatedly.
Not realizing they’re insulting her pride belatedly.
You is what everyone who’s distanced from her carelessly declare.
Assured that she is as sweet as she looks, though she never stands down from a dare.
Girl is what the self-proclaimed pompously pronounce.
Pretending that she knows no wit, and then are shocked to see her savagely pounce.
She should have no name, so her power fades.

But there’s nothing you or anyone can do, so just take a hike and play peek-a-boo.
The shadows are tricks of the light, severed from your sight.
That wild lion’s mane no more than tightly coiled silk, yet somehow its still a bane.
Her words, sharper than dragon’s claw is now softer than gold left raw.
Nightmares in the day, you no longer see them that way.
Shield from above, none can see that you’re merely a dove.
Cool breezes from forgotten memories, steal the sorrows from her so-called tragedies.
You’ve done all you can to make her be, another misplaced competitor like me.
Good job, but don’t forget that you’re not a cop.
And she’s no damsel-in-distress, she’s a wolf in sheep’ dress.
Remember and you might leave with your senses, forget and you won’t have any defenses.

You’re almost out of patience, you just can’t keep up with her determination.
You know you’re going to lose, but you have to keep going or they’ll tighten the noose.
You wish you could risk pity.
Its too bad you’re not real witty.
Or you could’ve played misery and ended this butchery.
Lucky for you, The Gryffinder knows no bounds when offering her aid.
She won’t behead you like you plead pathetically, instead she’ll just hand you her blade.
And her last words to you will be, “Don’t leave your blood on it and don‘t scream like a banshee.”