Disclaimer: I'm afraid it's not mine. Even if I said it was, you wouldn't believe me, would you?
Author's Note: This is sort of a third-person view, not my usual style. Just a "normal" Death Eater raid, and some hidden emotions that have been hidden for far too long.
Picture on a WindowsillPicture on a windowsill
Quiet knocking- once, twice.
Father gets up from his meal
Knocking comes again- thrice.
Little Sister pokes her head
'Round the corner, now that she's been fed.
Mother, she will finish soon,
As Father answers the door.
Elder Brother takes his spoon
Severs himself food- he wants more.
Calm to fear in one smooth seam
As Little Sister begins to scream.
One, two- Father's down
Mother grabs her children fast
One mouth smiling starts to frown-
Still, how long can Mudbloods last?
Two Death Eaters, one quite new
The other fearing what he'd have to do.
Quick jab, simple curse,
Mother stops against her will.
Hooded man who will do worse
Offers his partner the kill.
Children are not hard to kill,
But killing them is much harder, still.
Calling it a mercy thrust
Does not ease one's conscience.
For, had Fate been truly just,
Fate, and cruel Coincidence,
These children would be in bed-
Brother and Sister would not be dead.
Parents watch their children die
Know that they are truly gone
But the one who wants to cry
Is the man behind the wand.
Bitter anger turns to rage;
Two words, two deaths, one big war they wage.
First Death Eater walks outside,
Other, he lingers behind.
Men less strong the would have cried,
Men less hard and deep in mind.
Picture on the windowsill
Watched by eyes with tears that fear to spill.