Ebony watched the rain fall, softly touching the Earth with its cold, wet fingers. Her pale skin was a contrast to the dark hair that showed that she had been named correctly. How could they do this to her? Could they really move her from America? It wasn't as though she had any real friends, but at least after fourteen years she had been accepted as an oddity. What, so now that she was moving, she wouldn't be accepted till she was twenty-eight? Why didn't her mom just appear one morning and say, "Hi, you weren't meant for happiness. Sorry"? She was too stubborn to cry, and too stubborn to give her father any more regard. She had been trained for her first five years at an American school for Witchcraft and Wizardry and she didn't want to leave Lyresaion for a stupid school named Hogwarts. The infamous Harry Potter attended that school. The one who got rid of "He Who Must Not be Named" The infamous, I'm-a-braggart-and-a-git-Potter. He would turn the whole school against her if they knew who she was. She was the daughter of darkness' essence. Being Tom Riddle's daughter had not made her any closer to sane. Not at all. Ebony watched the rain fall, softly touching the Earth with its cold, wet fingers.
"Honey, come now. Everything will be okay," her mother said as she came in to Ebony's room quietly. Despite her mother's pleasant tone, the raven-haired girl translated it as, "hi, you weren't meant for happiness. Sorry."
Ebony sat, silent. She didn't want to see her mother. It was all her mother's fault. If her mother hadn't been swayed by the whims of the great Lord Voldemort, she wouldn't have been born. If her mother hadn't taken to some new man in damned England, she wouldn't have to move. Her mother's fault. All of it. Every last bit. She had been reading up on Hogwarts through some book called Hogwarts: A History. It was some sort of rubbish, really.
Four people got together all happy-like and decided to start a school. Whoop-di-doo. Then the fighting began when they had different views. Whoop-di-doo times two. Separated into four different houses. Whoop-di-doo times three. Everyone may as well have died. Good riddance. A school that was divided due to a few petty differences couldn't stand very well. She could imagine the teachers taking sides. Good God, she'd have to be sorted. At least in Lyresaion, she could talk to whom she pleased, and be with whom she pleased without the other person looking as though she was crazy. She had set up a tutoring system, and was useful, though she was also an "oddity" because she took to being silent. No one knew of her past. Who would blame her for wanting to keep it a secret? She got up and left her mother standing in her room. She grabbed a light jacket and decided to go jogging. Whenever she ran, she could forget. At least a little. She could lose sense of who she was, living again without knowing what she lived for. What did she live for? Who knew?
Her feet pounded the sidewalk faster. Every step pressed her to go forward. And forward she went. She was the spawn of a demon. Why was she mad at the one who killed him? Maybe because that same person hadn't done his job correctly. If he had, then Daddy wouldn't be alive again. He wouldn't be calling her name softly. She ran harder. Who was her father? Did she ever know him? Did he ever know of her? She ran faster. Did she care? No. Did anyone care about her--solely for her? No. Did she want someone to care? No. Yes. Maybe. Who cares? Her chest burned. She needed a diversion, something to think of aside from the pain. Milly went out with Robert last year. They were such an awkward looking couple. Milly was ugly. Robert was ugly too. Together they would have ugly children. Ugly. She was ugly. She had to be. If she wasn't, her father the living terror wouldn't have left her with her mother the living beauty. Her father must have been ugly. Or maybe this was repentance for what he was on the inside? She didn't care anymore. Her legs hurt. She needed to think about something else. She couldn't find anything to think about. That was when she stopped running.--when there was nothing left to think about.
She remained standing while her muscles burned. Sweat coated her body like an extra protective layer. When she caught her breath, she sat on the ground and everything raced back as though it had been only a few paces behind, waiting for her to tire. She was the father-less child. But she had a father. He was dead save his essence. He was cold. Empty. He was evil. She was the daughter of a beauty. When she looked in the mirror, she saw her ugliness. Her hair was too long, too straight, and too dark. Her eyes were an unnatural dark purple. Her skin was pale, but she hated sunlight anyway. She wasn't ugly in the way Milly was ugly. Milly just needed acne to go away. Ebony didn't have a trace of that.