2 THE VANISHING GLASS/ A TORTURE SHE BORE
The castle in Asia was large with ruby walls of blood marble. The floor was a clear white from the finest quarries in Greece. The columns were liquid gold, made into the most intricate and beautiful of designs. Their princess was the perfect complement for the finest halls in the world. Halls big enough to house the largest dragons, and tallest trees. She would walk along them, running her hand along the perfectly smooth wall. The girl was paler than the white of the floor, with eyes redder than the walls surrounding her. Her nails were painted a fine gold, and were filed to sharp stiletto points. Her dress was white, with red and gold finish, and her long black hair solidified the look. The thin wrist that pulled her hair back looked as though it had never been fed. Her cheekbones were visible under her blood red eyes, and her sad smile showed how tortured she truly was as she walked to the room they had summoned her to.
Every day she could remember, she had walked to that door. First her lessons, then they would call for her. The next doors she reached she had to open herself, as no one was allowed this deep but herself and them, none of the servants could trespass upon the stained area they called sacred.
She entered the room that had never been lit by sunlight, and stood in front of the two men who would assist her on that day. That was what they had instructed her to call it, an assistance. It was not she that was giving something up, but them. They worked hard every day to deliver to her life. She looked around the room. New paper scrolls with watercolor and ink paintings of mountains and skies she had never seen hung from the tall ceiling to the hard mat floor. It was the simplest room in the entire castle, and could have been mistaken for ancient, if not for the cart of modern day medical tools and restraining equipment. She raised her arms so that the two men could untie her belt, loosening her kimono that-while appearing to be a traditional garment-could be easily undone with a skilled hand. The silk slide down, where it was picked up and placed aside by one of the men. The girl was clad in only tight, thin garments covering her nearly nonexistent thighs and torso, but the fabric did nothing to hide the intricate curls and gashed that spiraled on her skin. Red, purple, and black had been clearly carve out of her skin with care, as though someone had control over how her blood vessels bled and broke. The thin silk showed black dots traveling down her spine, with red spirals, and purple lightening marks making a symmetrical pattern across her back. The girl lay down and allowed her assistants to restrain her, and continue to make her what they referred to as, beautiful.
The sun shone down on the large white and red dragon, which stretched its head out to the heavens. He raised his head to the sky, and stretched his wings, though he did not take off. What tied him to the ground were not heavy chains, they could not hold him, but rather, concern for his princess, and blood. Though he was not scarred, the red lines and circles lining his back, face, and wings seemed anything but natural. The castle suddenly shook, and the massive beast turned his head to the echo of his princess's power. Day after day she was tortured- yes, the beast knew that, even if she did not- and as her pain grew, so too did her power. He moved his eyes along the horizon as the castle shook a second time. The sun had reached the mountains, and their snow-topped peaks reflected the sun back into the dragons protected eyes. He was saddened by the thought that the girl he had sworn to protect would never see these mountains until she was much older. And by that time, she would probably not be able to enjoy them.
At the approach of a cat, the dragon swung his long neck down and engaged in a private conversation with the second creature. It was also white, but with black dots scattered across the back of its pelt. Its eyes were the same red as the dragons. The two of them both hid almost human-like intelligence beneath their eyes, and the glance they shared implied that they shared a language that ordinary cats and dragons could not understand.
The paper had burnt away, revealing shattered tiles barely covering concrete. The two men and barely shielded themselves from being hit by flying shards. Blood splattered over the room, completing the horrific look, and on the floor, designs glowing rred, and eyes bright gold, lay the girl, breathing heavily, and staring up at nothing. She was untied, and carried on a stretcher to her room, where servants undressed her and washed her wounds. She was place in a large bath, herbal water tinted slightly green, with a pillow under her head to keep her from drowning. Her black hair spiraled around her, accepting water into its tendrils and making it seem as though a black fog was surrounding her body. A black fog that hid the red leaking out of her many scars, dyeing the green water with its beauty.
Several hours later, that same sun rose on Pivet Drive, creeping in through its windows, and shining on photographs of a blond boy with his parents. On that day, it was the blond boys birthday, and on that day, Harry Potter saw the glass at the zoo vanish, letting a snake escape into the wild, before he was taken home, and trapped in his closet bedroom.