Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to J.K Rowling.
Have You Forgotten Salazar?
Have you forgotten Salazar? His wit, his cunning, his emerald robes and flickering smile?
Have you forgotten his house, who hide in shadows now, more wary then they had ever had to be before?
Have you forgotten that when you were a first year, it was a Slytherin (A snake, dangerous and slippery, they tell you. Made of ice, emotionless and not exactly human,) who helped you find your way around when you got lost in the endless corridors?
Have you forgotten the first time you saw a Slytherin cry, when he realised that Gryffindors shone no matter what they did, that Ravenclaws would always be respected, that even Hufflepuffs would be considered honest, and loyal, just from the colour of their robes? Do you remember the way he wiped the tears and blood from his cheeks in quiet resignation, seeking the safety of the dungeons and leaving the laughing students behind?
Do you remember?
Perhaps not.
Nobody seems to remember these things any more. They mourn their dead and move on, boasting of the bravery of relatives that died in the Final Battle, cherishing their memories.
They forget that the other side died, too.
They've forgotten a lot. That there is such a thing as shades of grey. They see only in black and white now, Light and Dark. All that the silver of Slytherin means to them is the colour of a Death Eater's mask. They will judge you, condemn you on colour alone. Green or Gold? Did it matter?
Did they ever have a choice?
The Slytherins wish the whole world blind. It would make things easier for them, but it is too late – the other houses are already blind to them, turning away in anger and disgust.
Sometimes a Slytherin fights back.
A slightly dark curse when it's five against one, a punch to the face as they try to get away.
They'll end up in detention, points lost. The Gryffindor they were fighting will look innocent and be sent to the hospital wing, pretending the blood on their robes is their own.
There is no such thing as self-defence for a Slytherin.
There is no such thing as pride for a Slytherin. Once, both Gryffindor and Slytherin house were built of pride and self-righteousness, not as different as people always seem to believe. Without their pride, the children with the emerald ties are just common grass snakes, harmless and afraid.
Have you forgotten that you had a Snake for a friend, a long time ago, and that he told you of his family with a smile and dancing eyes?
On the anniversary of the Final Battle, three of the houses turn to glare at the fourth.
The fourth house ignores them, and remembers their own dead, regardless of past alliances – there is nobody else to mourn the people that fell behind their masks. No other House would grieve for the Dark, so they do. Someone has to care, because the fallen Death Eaters were human, (or most of them, anyway), and they were children once too, full of dreams and aspirations and relative innocence. Because they were born without blood on their hands.
The Slytherins curse Voldemort's name, but wonder whether anyone ever cried for Tom Riddle. The Slytherins are logical; they can see the difference, and perhaps relate.
But most Wizards are not very logical, and their memories are short.
I find it ironic that your parents named you Salazar after the long-dead founder of Slytherin house, but that bloody hat still sorted you into Gryffindor.
You really don't know how lucky you are.
Have you forgotten, Salazar? We may be old now, but I still remember how it was. And now with the new Dark Lord, they have nowhere else to turn to. Nothing's changed.
Do you remember all the mistakes of the past?
I wish that someday they would learn...
But they've already forgotten Salazar and his icy children.