Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything affiliated with it. Harry Potter and the characters, settings, and plotlines associated with it are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended, and this is not being done for profit. The last stanza of this piece and Odo belong to JKR as well.

The Ballad of Odo the Hero

A long time ago, a grand palace stood tall,
Nestled in amongst green rolling hills.
It was here that a rosy-cheeked cherub was born,
Where he lived amidst comfort and frills.

He cried all the time and shot sparks from his nose-
He was quite a formidable youth.
He showed such great promise, such wizardly skill,
Long before he'd grown in a tooth.

But something was learn'd to be grievously wrong,
With the fair babe, and everyone knew.
For appearance's sake, everything looked just fine:
Brown hair and eyes of bright blue.

His mother, the queen, approached, nose pinched so tight,
So as not to let pass the foul fume.
The prince, her young son, did emit such a stench,
That she quickly vacated the room.

This foul stench which clung to the prince's small form,
Could neither potions nor tonics allay.
The queen, who long tired of plugging her nose,
Waved a hand, screaming, "Take him away!"

As it happened, an old man discovered the babe,
That night down a dusty, dark lane.
He laid the strange child to rest with his pigs,
Then went back to bed once again.

Still, the boy continued to smell something fierce,
He grew tall and as strong as a fort.
Townsfolk came to call him "Odorious, Pig Boy"-
Or else just plain "Odo" for short.

Though he chose to live with his curly-tailed friends,
And was often found splattered in mud,
Ev'ry night he would dream—big dreams of big things—
Simply put: He was not such a dud.

After giving much thought, he bartered a wand,
And began to perfect different spells.
Soon he felt he'd outgrown his small town by the sea,
And set off to find evil to quell.

He had not far to go, had not far to look:
Tragedy struck all over the place.
He charged into battle, his wand held up high,
A grim smile set onto his face.

With foul monsters and beasts and wizards he duel'd,
Ne'er to find himself in a bad stick.
That stench he had had in his childhood days—
He found that it did just the trick.

Ne'er hesitant, nor cautious, nor 'fraid in the least,
Odo always seemed ready to fight.
Why, he once stopped ten monsters in as many days,
Sav'd a town from a terrible plight.

And soon word spread of his glorious deeds,
He found himself bolster'd by fame.
The large swarming crowds that gathered to cheer,
Made the monsters and beasts look quite tame.

"Odorious" became "Odo the Hero"—
He had gained respect at last.
But alas! Sad to say—all his luck went away,
His time for victory seemed passed.

On a diet of sweets and cakes so divine,
Odo grew to a monstrous girth.
To see Odo waddling and gasping for air,
Imbued his enemies with great mirth.

Our portly young hero still tried to reclaim,
The splendor of his early days.
He was soon o'ertaken by the cunning new mavens
Who overwhelmed him with quick-witted ways.

Confunded no doubt by a quick-wanded chap,
Trying to pass Odo's glory as his.
Odo summoned hexes to throw at this rogue!
But his wand fail'd him and started to fizz.

Ah, the strain and the stress put upon this poor wand,
For t'was only a strip of wood.
Still Odo pressed, and he yelled, and he waved it about;
He asked more than a wizard should.

And the wand, finally spent, shot out its last spark,
The old stick had finally been beat.
Odo let out a great shrieking piteous wail,
As his shoes were knocked off of his feet.

He fell to his knees, and the thief took his chance,
Odo resisted his imminent death.
He placed his charred hat upon his right foot
And he drew in his very last breath.

People came from afar to see this great man,
Near the location at which he fell.
Women wept, children cried, and the dogs howled for days,
All astounded at the lack of a smell.

And Odo the Hero, they bore him back home,
To the place that he'd known as a lad.
They laid him to rest with his hat inside out,
And his wand snapped in two which was sad.

A/N: This was my attempt to recreate the song Hagrid and Slughorn sang on the night of Aragog's funeral. As always, loves, feedback is appreciated. Ta ta!