EBONY SUN

PROLOGUE

The Pawn of Choice

Life was never fair.

Devoted fans of religiosity might babble about how the sole Divine Existence Up There had set it all up for us, and what seemed to be a pretty fucked-up unfairness was, somehow, a prettily disguised plot that was supposed to give equal joy to the entire mankind. Dignity-induced as they were, they failed to notice that life was indeed an embodiment of injustice, and humans—fearful, prejudiced, and hateful—were no more than pawns in this battle royale, this rampant reality, played and fooled around by Fate Herself.

A sixteen-years-old teenager known as Harry Potter would strongly vote for the previous statement, having himself as a constant victim of Fate's wicked sense of humor. The said mastermind of destiny had quite a knack in making his life as miserable as possible. He couldn't begin to fathom why. From what he'd gathered, he had been bonded with this fate of misfortune and misery since he could barely walk and talk, so it couldn't be because he had angered Her in some way.

The only explanation was, as absurd as it might be, that She simply enjoyed it.

The supposed Savior of the Wizarding World was once again reminded of this painful fact as he woke up to the first dawn of his sixteenth year of life, sore and aching all over the body. His mind was all hazy, as if a thick layer of fog had been forced into his brain. He groaned and tried desperately to grasp the nearest memory in his disordered brain cells.

Excruciating pain... the overwhelming embrace of unconsciousness...

That was all he could recall at the moment, but that was more than enough. Ignoring the imaginary cries of disapproval from his muscles and neurotic systems, he sat up and let out a raspy sigh. A growing anger had taken a nice, comfortable place in his heart, and it didn't seem willing to cease anytime soon.

That bitch just had to interfere, didn't she?

Through the earlier years of his existence, he had always stayed up until midnight to celebrate his birthday. It was strangely comforting to wait for the clock to tick past twelve o' clock and whisper 'Happy Birthday' to himself. His so-called family never acknowledged him, much less rejoicing his birthdays—he certainly wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice a tidbit of his sleeping time for a lonesome party.

So far, he'd managed not to flaw his staying-up-late-in-birthnights record. That was it, until this particular birthday. Apparently, Fate hadn't been satisfied by the last year's events—either the revelation of the Prophecy that turned his world upside down or the death of his Godfather which had left a part of his soul hollow. She just had to steal one of the rare excitements he could experience during the summer holiday by sending pain through his cursed scar while he was eagerly waiting for the midnight, effectively knocking him out cold.

All doubts about Fate's sadistic nature had died a swift death in Harry's irritated mind.

"Lucky I didn't pass out on the floor," Harry muttered under his breath as he scrambled to get down from the bed. "could've gotten a cold." And the Dursleys would run amok all over his helpless self for sure, like when he'd caught a flu in his younger days, which made Uncle Vernon grumble about the medicines' high prices for three days in row before he decided that 'the freak' didn't deserve the whining, and instead blowing off his anger by giving Harry a pile of household tasks only an inhuman being would be able to complete.

Harry noticed that his voice had sounded a bit... off, it was a tone deeper than it should be, but he considered it an aftereffect of the recent occurrence.

I'm sweaty and stinky, he thought, now standing up on his wobbly legs. He peered at the clock. 5:17 A.M. It would be long until the Dursleys manage to drag their lazy asses off the Dreamworld, which meant he had free time about two or three hours, which meant he was so settled on a nice, refreshing morning shower.

Pacing across his small room, Harry was overwhelmed by a strange sense... he felt clumsy, as though he didn't know his body. When he swung his feet, they were oddly resistant, making his movement awkward like a teenager after a rapid growth spurt. And there was this unexplainable euphoria of power inside him—similar to what he got after too much caffeine, only much, much stronger—tempting him to punch or kick something, jump, dance, or whatever that could burn calories within his lanky body.

Strange, he mused idly, yet it's possible that I AM on a growth spurt.

However, thoughts about growth spurt and whatnots were banished completely when Harry caught his own reflection on the mirror beside the door.

The green-eyed boy, or rather, the no more green-eyed boy, came to an abrupt halt, mouth agape and eyes as wide as saucers as he stared closely at the reflection, which for once didn't expose locks of messy dark hair or Avada Kedavra eyes.

In the mirror was a tall stranger with spiky sun-kissed hair and orbs in the azure shade of summer sky, his shocked expression an utter similarity to Harry's. In morbid amazement, Harry absently ran a hand through his hair, picking up a cluster of locks, and brought them to his eyes.

They were blonde.

Why me, Fate?

And Fate's answer came in a sickeningly melodious sopran,

Because I enjoy it.

ESESESESESESESESESES

Sorry for Grammar errors.

Hmmm... should I continue it:)

Well, If I don't get many reviews, I'll stop updating.

I need more info of Naruto world, by the way.

For those who're anxious about the lack of update of my Samurai Deeper Kyo fanfics, I give you my deepest apology. It's all because of my lack of idea... but I'm not planning to stop writing those! Wait for the update, though maybe you have lost interest anyway...

Well, please review.