Real A.N.: I wrote this story from a Wild Mass Guess on TV tropes, which guessed that Ebony had a sister, the exact opposite of her, and I decided to write a story for that. Yes, it is atrocious, but it's somewhat of a story within a story, with the person doing the Author's notes in just bold being a Harry Potter fangirl that wrote 'Till the World Ends as a hate fic for it, but falls into some of the same potholes as did the original, such as making the protagonist a Mary Sue. I, the true author, with the A.N.s in both bold and italic, am not that horrible of a writer, and do not use such purple prose. If you are looking for quality over parody, this is not my only story. I have others, and you can see them if you want. Please, please, please do not associate my normal writing with this fic.
A.N. Well, here goes. I hate My Immortal. I mean, seriously. The author can't spell, the main character is awful, and there was so much horrible smut. So here's my answer to it. Ivory is a good girl, will never be called Irovy like how that stupid git Tara calls her main character Enoby, and will actually have some sense of good spelling and grammar. So, everyone, welcome to my story, and unlike Tara, who never bothered with disclaimers, here's one: I don't own Harry Potter, and (thank goodness) I also don't own My Immortal.
Hi, my name is Ivory Lightness Inno'cence Dove Way, and I have hair seemingly plated with the finest silver with frosty blue tips like the ice upon the Earth's poles that catches the shining golden streams of beautiful light from the sun, and reflects it back like a mirror, throwing glints of gold and silver wherever I walk. My eyes are lovely orbs of a deep, mystical purple that seems to hold all the mysteries of the universe, and my skin is as pale white as the purest ivory (that's how I got my name), and does not burn nor tan, because I'm a werewolf. I'm the daughter of Archangela and Devil Way, and my mother was a true saint who protected me from my father, a necromancer who tried to use me in his dark rituals to raise demons from the blazing pits of the Inferno. He raised me in torment, though he idolized my older sister, Ebony, who was a vampire like him. I, though, having been born a werewolf like my dearest mother, was mistreated and taken advantage of for my mystical connection to the moon, and I was only allowed to go to Hogwarts in my seventh year, one year after my sister Ebony had left.
I'm a prep, and my favorite color is a bright, sky pink, and today I was wearing a floaty, somewhat see-through sleeveless dress of the purest shimmering white silk that complimented my graceful body, with golden bangles inscribed with magical inscriptions adorned my slim arms, a hooded cloak made out of sky pink satin fell in soft folds from my slight shoulders, soft hot pink velvet slippers enclosed my dainty feet, a necklace beaded with jadeite, blue garnets and blue diamonds adorned my delicate neck, and I wore a wrought circlet of the purest gold to restrain my hair from falling in front of my soft face, the natural beauty of which no makeup marred.
I was standing in front of the the ancient, weathered castle of Hogwarts, where resided the magical secrets of myriads of powerful magic users who were schooled in the arcane arts by the greatest magi of the age. It was lovely day for the weather, with the sun having completed one-fourth of its glorious journey through Earth's sky, and the fluffy white wool of clouds were few and far between, though where they were they set off the beautiful picture of the heavens perfectly.
A gaggle of goths, the girls wearing ripped black dresses that showed off portions of the human anatomy that should never be showcased, and the boys in t-shirts of awful gothic bands such as My Chemical Romance, Good Charlotte, and Evanescence (I hate them so much. They pollute the wonderful music of such stars as Mozart, Taylor Swift, and Hilary Duff, and should have been kept in the eyes of the goths as what they really were; Stupid experiments in subculture that should have been dumped long ago). I turned my face from them.
"Hey Ivory!" exclaimed a voice behind me. I swept my body around to face him. It was Harry Potter!
"Greetings, Harrry, what's up?" I wondered.
"Oh, n-nothing." he said shyly. I wished to respond to his strange articulation, but my friends called me away from him. While walking I had a vision of the future, I knew that our paths would cross once again, for our destinies were entwined, and could not be cut apart, nor undone from one another.
A.N. Better than the original, eh? At least I can spell, unlike that poser slut Tara. Reveiws please! This had better be more reviewed than My Immortal, as it deserves it more ;).