Title: The Ebony Chasm of Morn
Authoress: VenusIsKnownForFlyTraps (Esperanza-Loco)
Date finished: July 5, 2007
Length: I'm trying to get to 3-4 pages per chapter.
Word count: 1,420
Rating: Unsure as of now.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is J. K. Rowling's and Naruto is Masashi Kishimoto's.
Note: I don't know. I'm not happy with this at all, and it'll probably be scrapped. This started when I saw this picture on DeviantArt and I suddenly imagined a scene with a timid girl Orochimaru, age 12, with her hair hiding her face, in Hogwarts getting sorted into Slytherin, being adored automatically by the Slytherins for being Voldemort's daughter. Like I said, I don't know. I'll keep you posted on whether I still have any motivation for this after I post this chapter. The title was going to be "The Black Abyss of Light," but what I changed it to means the same thing. Enjoy. Oh, and I want at least 5 reviews before I continue, pretty please if that's not too much to ask for.
A lone black-haired self-deduced little girl stood in a large dark room that seemed almost like a dungeon. She was brushing her long, feathery hair with a plain black hairbrush in the front of a body-length mirror, and it looked so similar in color to the rest of the room that anyone walking in with night-vision goggles would surly just assume she was patting her own head with her delicate porcelain-colored hand.
There was nothing in the room, by the looks of it, except the mirror, the girl, and the brush, though if one was to look closely in the mirror after their eyes were to adjust to the dark it is just possible to make out the queen-sized bed with black sheets and pillows, and a large comforter covering what crawls soundlessly underneath.
Underneath the comforter her friends – her pets – were slithering menacingly around in the jumble of peers there, as if daring anyone other than the little girl to dare touch them and not expect to die, though the threat went unseen by anyone as they all snaked there way around, on top of each other and through the thickets, some going as far as to daringly stick there scaly heads out from under the black comforter and try to catch a glimpse of their princess – their friend – before she caught them from her view in the mirror.
Placing the brush down after deciding her silky onyx hair was ready and perfect, she turned around to see a few pairs of glimmering eyes catch her own golden ones, and allowed a small smile to mount itself on her normally blank and resourceful features (though she wasn't sure whether the snakes had good enough vision to see it in the chasm of darkness surrounding her), her porcelain skin not used to the motion of the certain muscles that needed to be used and the smile automatically fell from her face, but the expression still shining in her light eyes.
She strode over to the bed, carefully crawling onto it as the snakes hissed at being displaced, then stopped as soon as they saw it was only their princess, who they refused to harm. They looked to her with glinting and sparkling eyes, and the smile again returned for a moment, and the inwardly-locked door opened from the outside.
Someplace far away from little girls and murderous snakes sat a teenage boy named Harry Potter, who was currently reading a vague letter addressed to him in blood-red ink from an unknown personnel. He didn't understand some of the larger words, but the one sentence had him scared to death, whether he understood the complete meaning or not.
But for you desire to breathe your last breath within Hogwarts by the side of this time, I compassionately advocate you alter departing back to drill.
It wasn't that he didn't necessarily understand it, though, but more through the fact that he recognized the writing – the same beautiful writing he had seen in Tom Marvolo Riddle's diary during his second year at Hogwarts.
It briefly passed his mind to tell the Order of the Phoenix or the Weasleys' or even his friend Hermione just to be safe (and she could decode what the note said, too). But after the thought hit him it left as quickly as it had come. That would be much too messy; the Order would question him relentlessly, Mrs. Weasley would cry and hug him while Mr. Weasley would look at him with unmasked concern and Ron would be standing off somewhere, angrily staring out a window or being in his face obnoxiously. Hermione, on the other hand, he didn't even want to think about; she would be the worst of all, and if not for her being so smart and cheating on tests for him he would have already dumped her and Ron, but then there was always the possibility that there would be a messy ending, with her wanting to be part of the Order and Ron's family already in the Order.
No, he wouldn't do that. Lupin was coming to get him in a few days anyway, so he'd be able to decode the hidden meaning by then hopefully, and if not he would ask Lupin; it wasn't as if he could send the note to him now and expect to get a reply before the time he was to get picked up, so that really made no sense to him at all. Hermione would be mad and lecture him on worrying them all, but that was OK, he guessed. It wasn't like her opinion to him mattered, anyway.
The sixteen-year-old picked up the hastily dropped letter carefully, closing it up and sticking it carefully in the envelope. With his first and last name in that same red ink that gave him the chills, the way it sparkled and glinted reminding him of real blood pooling on the page and forming the beautiful, grim words he wished to know the meaning of. The letter was, in fact, grim, if the fact that it was from Voldemort had any recognition in the matter.
He sighed. Why couldn't he just have a normal school year with normal friends that he liked, and not be threatened by a Dark Lord trying to kill him obsessively? Man, was his like complicated.
Someplace where teenage boys weren't getting threatened, the little black-haired girl lay in the queen-sized bed, the large black comforter going up to her chin and laying on her snuggly. Her once happy golden eyes sat there blankly, staring up at the dark ceiling that seemed just out of her line of vision, her retinas burning like fire was quelling behind them, though she didn't move nor make a noise of anguish. All was fine in her world, she often told herself when the burning sensation erupted behind her golden orbs painfully.
Both under and over the comforter were her snakes, protecting her from the outside world and doing their best to distract her from her inner anguish. The six-year-old felt one of her favorites crawl over her stomach and pop its head out from under the monstrous quilt, hissing loving words to her as it curled up by the side of her head lovingly.
The girl's eyes stayed glued to the darkness above her, thinking about her earlier visitor, the reason the snakes were now so consoling (or at least more so than usual). She had been told something that she couldn't pin as good or bad, so decided there would be ups and downs to the awaiting adventure.
She would be leaving her room, for one thing. This was no large defeat, as she had done this many times before, and had even been to some dangerous and amazing places before in her short life, the images of them forever burned into her retinas. Her father's young face flashed into her vision momentarily as the pain consuming her doubled, her eyes blurring the above darkness together in splotches, leaving plain black in some areas while the normal haunting black pierced others.
She smiled, the notion not reaching her enflamed eyes.
The snake besides her hissed more approving words to her, making her insides giggle daintily as her soft, unmarred hands went up to pet the poor ignored thing, her eyes not leaving the vacant space supplied greedily to her.
Yes, her adventure would indeed be of ups and downs; neither would it be good nor bad, not fun and not miserable. Yes, this would indeed be an adventure.