Standing by the doorway,
Waiting for the day to come.
Not knowing that when it came,
She would be hated and shunned.
She had many friends,
Muggles that they were.
She never stuck up her nose
Cos’ she was Muggleborn.
Little did she know,
That when tomorrow came,
The only friends she would make
Would despise her, give her shame.
She was not yet Slytherin, not yet Slytherin.
Soon she learned the rules,
Of the House. And soon
She learned not all was black
And white; it was green and silver.
A Dark Lord was rising, and
Everyone she knew was following.
And before she could stop
It, she became a part.
She covered her figure with robes,
At night and face with mask
So pale. Her wand, a deadly
Weapon of mass destruction.
She was a Slytherin, a true older Slytherin.
The skies of blood rose high above
As the Dark Lord began his reign.
Everything scarlet from the corpses,
She killed without a care.
Then below her wand, a girl,
A stupid little Muggleborn.
As she uttered the words for
Death to come, a feeling gripped her.
This was the girl she once
Could have been. Pure and
True of heart. Instead she left
That behind and turned to this.
She forgot the feeling not Slytherin; truly not Slytherin.
But then the girl cried out
Once more and she remembered
Her place. She killed the girl
Shamelessly and went on.
Many were killed that night,
Though this Slytherin could care less.
But the girl she murdered haunted her
Reminding her of what she used to be.
She hadn’t been a Slytherin, not a true Slytherin.
Slowly the girl slipped from
Her mind and she paid no
Heed to the other distractions
The Mudbloods gave.
And when she died it was
In peace. She was born with
Dirty blood and died a
Slytherin, tonjours pur.
She finally died a Slytherin, the truest Slytherin.
A/N: Don't forget to review. Everytime you read and don't review, an author dies. So don't forget!