PART ONE

CHAPTER ONE: TULIPS

Okay, thanks for reading Heartless! So, other than the name (I got that from Sara Wolf's Bring me their Hearts series as inspiration), the heartless species are entirely my creation. The abilities they possess, their traditions, and their way of life is something created by me. If you see anything else that has heartless as they are portrayed in this fanfiction, it's plagiarized.

Thank you for reading!

Word count: 1,427

ONTO THE FIRST CHAPTER!

Raven had always known that she was different.

Of course, everyone thought that they were different from the others. Everyone thought that they were the only one who ever had, is, and ever will go through something, when that simply can't be true from a logical perspective. It was the whole point of being sentient; when you're capable of emotion and thought, the belief that you're different and alone in what you're going through is part of the deal.

Although, seeing as every sentient being was also unique, it was true, to some extent.

But that was besides the point; Raven—like everyone else on the planet—thought she was different.

Except in Raven's case, it was actually true.

For one, she was heartless.

No, that didn't mean that she was ruthless or that she didn't have the organ that pumped blood throughout her body beating in her chest.

Heartless were a species of beings that were similar to humans. Heartless and humans looked the same, acted the same, spoke the same, felt the same, and bled the same.

Maybe that's why Raven found it morbidly humorous that heartless and humans had been at war since war was created.

The War of Eternity, as it was called, should've been won in the humans' favor eons ago. Humans had higher numbers and—more importantly—witches and wizards.

Except, centuries ago, humans without magic—or muggles, as witches and wizards called them—suddenly weren't a part of the war. They stopped believing in magic and started to trust in "science." For them, heartless were myths—mere figments of someone's (either a storyteller or a psychopath) imagination. Of course, the heartless didn't mind; why would anyone complain about losing half of their enemies in a never-ending war without any effort on their part?

Now, the heartless's only opponents were the witches and wizards. Still, humanity should've had an advantage.

But heartless were magical beings, too. The heartless race drew their power from the sun, and were gifted with pyrokinesis—the power of fire. When they were exposed to daylight, they healed faster, and their senses and strength were exceptionally strong under the star of their solar system. That was the case for all heartless.

Well, not really.

Raven of the House of Nightshade was the exception. She drew her power from the moon, not the sun. She was gifted with hydrokinesis, the power of water, instead of pyrokinesis. She healed faster underneath the moonlight, and her senses were stronger at night. And she slowly, uncontrollably, turned more and more transparent every night until she was fully invisible on the night of the new moon—and then the process reversed until she was fully visible on the night of the full moon, except she was the strongest and had the most control over her abilities on those nights.

No one knew of anyone else who had a connection with the moon instead of the sun; it was very much possible that Raven was the first heartless who drew their power from the moon. Raven was truly special.

And she hated it.

She had always known that this abnormality was no blessing, despite what the older, wiser, and more experienced heartless claimed. It was a curse.

And all it took was one visit from Albus Dumbledore to confirm it.

Albus Dumbledore stared at Raven Nightshade, and Raven stared back. His eyes were blue—twinkling, brilliant, cornflower blue. They were so unlike Raven's incredibly pale silver eyes that swirled with an impossible shade of light, icy mint. According to human standards, a heartless's natural features weren't natural; some heartless had blood-red eyes, and others had pure, snow-white hair. Of course, heartless could still have "normal" features, like brown eyes or black hair, but it wasn't strange to have red eyes.

Raven kept her expression blank. To show any reaction would be to show weakness, her mother had always said. And seeing as she was just told that she was a witch, she did a pretty good job of hiding any reactions; the only emotion that appeared on her expression was a slight widening of her eyes.

"There has to be some sort of mistake." Raven spoke calmly. "I can't be a witch. I'm not human."

Dumbledore just smiled mysteriously. "Werewolves aren't human, and they can still be witches." He paused for a second. "Or wizards."

"Werewolves start as human. Or, even if they're born as a werewolf, they still have human blood."

The old professor tilted his head to the side and didn't even dignify her words with a response, opting to ask instead, "Hasn't anything even remotely witch-like happened to you?"

If she got angry enough, things exploded. If she was running away from her siblings, even if it wasn't in her home, or even if she was simply running from something, doors slammed shut of their own accord. That wasn't exactly normal for a heartless; that was definitely—as Dumbledore put it—witch-like.

"Of course not," she lied, even as she raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Anything "remotely witch-like" doesn't happen to heartless."

At least, it doesn't happen to normal heartless.

Dumbledore hummed. It was a neutral hum; the kind that gave no indication as to what the maker of the sound was thinking.

After a moment of silence, he asked, "Let's say you weren't a heartless. Would you still be just as opposed to accepting the fact that you're a witch?"

Raven shrugged, and although she wasn't entirely sure as to why she did it, she told the truth: "Of course not."

"Then why can you not accept it now?"

Raven shrugged once more. "I dunno. Might be because I'm at war with witches and wizards."

Her words were sarcastic, and although her tone was mild, she was sure she got the point across. But Dumbledore seemed to pick out something else from her voice.

"Miss Nightshade, are you afraid of attending Hogwarts?" There was an amused glint in his eyes. "A school filled with witches and wizards who would all hate you if they figured out what you are?"

Raven knew what he was doing. He was trying to manipulate her; he was trying to use her pride against her. She hated it. She hated everything about this—the conversation, his expression, his words, everything. But most of all, she hated how he tried to manipulate her into coming to Hogwarts.

But her hating it didn't mean she didn't notice what he said.

She had always had a habit of paying more attention to the people around her than what was considered normal. Others found it strange; why would a Nightshade, someone who was a part of the seven families that lead all the heartless in the world, listen to everything others said? How could she remember everything she heard? How could she understand everything she remembered? That too, before she had even hit the young age of twelve!

But when Raven thought about it, it made sense because of one undeniable fact that she was the only one who knew about: Raven was bored.

She was bored of listening to people ask her about her special abilities, she was bored of others trying—and failing—to manipulate her. She was bored of others deciding that she didn't know how to think for herself, she was bored of the controlled environment she had grown up in.

She was bored and she craved excitement. She craved independence.

"You said if they figure out what I am," she said. "If. Are you saying that you won't tell anyone?"

Dumbledore smiled, the corners curling with the word yes.

Raven craved excitement.

And maybe... maybe Hogwarts was her only opportunity to get it.

In the language of flowers, TULIPS represent opportunities.

So. What do you think?

Please review!

~Sarcasticsnark13