We are the Slytherins. We are the one clothed in silver and green as well as lies and shame.
We are the children. The children never wanted but perhaps if born in another time, they would have been loved.
We are the last memories. The scars of the war stayed with us the longest, tainting blood till it turned to mud and we all never noticed.
We are the shadows. Hiding in the dark and past because other's will instead of our own.
We deserve it. At least, that's what they say...then again, they say many things. He didn't deserve to die.
We cannot honor thy father and mother. How can we? They destroyed and devastated us, leaving us as nothing but dust in the wind.
We do not understand sometimes. Little Scorpius was just eleven and he was killed by a misaimed stunning curse, that in the end, stunned more than just him.
He's a Slytherin though, right? So he deserves it.
We tried so hard. But our offers to sooth the wounds of the past were like salt to a cut.
A very large cut, we realized too late, that spanned more than our memories could hold.
Honor thy father and mother; easy enough to do when everyone else honors them too.
We are the Slytherins; and in the end, the only thing that separates us is that one cried in the dark and the other in the light.