Tsurara Mai: Icicle Dance
I know I'm going to get a bit of a berating because of this but don't blame me. I do tend to get a bit side-tracked in my stories, and along with 'Fulfilment of a Contract' which will be out as soon as I finish it, these are just little outlets of creativity so that I don't become to crazy or lazy. And I also wanted to try a few different things. Also, those who have read or seen 'Flame of Recca' would know that the title is a move of Tokiya Mikagami's. Hope you enjoy this one!
P.S.- I will be taking some aspects of the beginning from Petshop of Horrors vol. 7 by Matsuri Akino. This is what it'll look like.
"Talking"
'Thoughts'
"Parseltongue"
"Animal speaking"
/a language other than English-will be specified/
"Mental Speech"
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There is a reason why humans are such social creatures.
The entire human race instinctively knows that social interaction is important to our growth.
Laughing and crying are a part of us from the time we're born. As children, we learn that people react to us one way when we laugh, another way when we cry.
As we grow older, we begin to learn different variations. We learn how to smile without laughing, how to weep quietly to ourselves...
All of us learn how to communicate and function by watching the people around us.
But if there was no one to react to our laughing or crying, we'd eventually stop.
We lose our ability to express joy, anger, sadness...
Should we be isolated from society and human contact...we forget how to laugh or cry.
We would lose all emotion...
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Twilight.
The only time when night and day merge, creating an image that will enchant many until the end of time.
It was the first thing I remember after waking up to my Aunt's shrieking.
After that, it was the darkness of the cupboard under the stairs.
I remember crying for the warm embrace of the red-haired woman or the messy haired man.
I cried and cried for hours but no one came.
Not the red-haired woman I once called my mother.
Not the messy haired man I once called my father.
Not even the large man with blonde hair or the thin aunt with the shrill voice.
I didn't understand back then but I knew, deep in my heart , my mind, my soul, that they were gone.
Until it was my time to leave the earth, we would not see each other again.
But would I be the son they once played over by the end?
Soon, my cries became whimpers.
My whimpers into silence.
It was my relative's isolated neglect that turned into the emotionless doll I would soon become.
They ignored me.
They never touched me.
They barely even talked to me or paid attention to me save for the long lists of paper that would be shoved into my face soon after I learned to walk.
I never complained.
I knew that they wouldn't listen or merely say hurtful words.
So I kept my silence.
Even my portly cousin ignored me.
A painful feeling when even a child that should be full of curiosity ignores another child that they could play with.
Of course, I avoided all human contact afterwards which led me to befriend the animals of the neighbourhood that I soon understood; a rather wonderful gift that would help me in later years when I wanted to get away from all the stares.
Of course, my glacial nature eventually led to me being called 'Tsurara Mai' by the other children.
Icicle Dance.
A rather fitting name for a child who is cold yet delicate.
Completely loathing the human race yet grudgingly accepted that he was one.
It was rather sad that the Wizarding World never understood that.
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Emerald eyes watched the destruction outside the school walls with a lifeless gaze as blood, limbs and entrails littered the once-green grounds of Hogwarts. Even with the combined effort of the Ministry and the Order of the Phoenix, it was painfully clear to all those inside the millennium-old walls of Hogwarts that the Death Eaters were winning.
Many accusing stares could be seen being thrown to the supposed 'Boy-Who-Lived' who was merely watching the battle with such a lack of emotion that many feared since his arrival at the school. Perched on his shoulder was a snowy owl which glared at them all unblinkingly with its large amber eyes while a large king cobra hissed at them all menacingly.
Regardless, one reckless Gryffindor marched up to Harry James Potter only to stop a few measly meters away from the glacial boy when the cobra reared back, flaring its hood and revealing its poisonous fangs. "Potter," ground out sixth year Gryffindor Ronald Weasley as Harry ignored him. "Potter, are you just going to watch them all die as they defend us? Defend you? What cowardly wizard are you to not fight against You-Know-Who?!"
"Voldemort," came the whispered, near-silent reply that made many squeak, jump or cry hysterically in response. "Call him Voldemort, fool. Where has your Gryffindor courage gone, if all you can do is call him by a pathetic title with no meaning whatsoever?"
Weasley clenched his fist as he glared at the silent teen. "Are you going to do something or not?!" demanded Weasley before he stiffened slightly at the empty gaze placed upon him.
"I shall do…something, if you call the Headmaster and the Minister here," was the cool, flat reply. "Or does your pride prevent you from following the missives of a 'slimy, evil Slytherin'?"
The other boy then turned a bright shade of red as a small apathetic smirk was directed at him before he spun on his heel and stalked over to where the Headmaster stood. The smirk disappeared as blank, dull chips of malachite flickered to where the Headmaster and Weasley stood speaking to each other; waiting for the Headmaster to come to a decision.
Soon, they were dismissed as the Headmaster summoned Fawkes, the phoenix, to transport the Minister into the Great Hall of Hogwarts. The small smirk surfaced once more as Harry turned back to the battle to watch the deaths of so many.
"Fools," whispered Harry silently as his face betrayed nothing of what he felt when he saw the battle outside. "They are all mere fools."
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Harry Potter walked through the swathe of sweaty, blood-soaked bodies calmly as many created a path for him to walk through. The vampires, werewolves and other 'Dark' creatures that had fought on either side stopped moving once Harry stepped out onto the steps of Hogwarts and proceeded to study the young man as he walked through the dead bodies and blood-soaked grounds as if they weren't there in the first place.
The wizards and witches, however, saw this and would have taken advantage of this had it not been for the thick column of ice that surrounded nearly all of the wand-handling folk on the battlefield. A slight sneer came upon Harry's lips as he stared at the erected, white, ice tombs that were scattered all over the blood drenched soil.
"Tch," muttered harry as he all but glided to where Voldemort stood, held to the ground with ice surrounding his hands and feet with two large chunks of ice on either side. One with Peter Pettigrew cowering in its center while the other held Belltrix LeStrange who was shooting a whole plethora of spells in her own cube which were absorbed harmlessly by the ice.
Emerald eyes met blood red; apathy meeting pure fury and hate.
Harry did not flinch at the emotions revealed by his nemesis and merely said two words.
"Tsurara Mai," whispered Harry as icicles shot up from the ground and pierced through Voldemort's body; blood flew into the air as some landed on Harry's cheek resembling bloody tears.
Voldemort, on the other hand, wheezed desperately as he tried to breathe through his torn lungs. In the end, another icicle was aimed at his head which stopped his life quickly in a shower of flesh, blood and bone shards.
Harry watched as the blood trickled down the smooth, jagged sides of the icicles in hypnotising rivulets; mixing with the melting ice water.
"Nothing lasts forever, Tom," murmured Harry to the still air, words that only the 'Dark' creatures on the field caught. "After all, even the gods of old did not last to this era."
A gentle breeze blew past as a single drop of mixed liquid fell onto the rubied earth.
A testament to lost souls that now wander the roads of the Afterlife.
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The Sydney Morning Herald: Magical Addition Thursday, 15th July, 1997
The World
Boy-Who-Lived Revealing the Injustice of the British Ministry of Magic
JUST YESTERDAY Mr Harry James Potter, the United Kingdom's 'Boy-Who-Lived', revealed to the Magical United nations and their Muggle counterparts, who have taken part of the international treaty, the injustice being placed upon magical beings as well as the corruption that has rooted itself deep with the British Ministry of Magic.
Mr Potter has stated that the "legislations and laws passed in the country have been extremely biased. The Ministry has degraded many creatures merely for the fact that they are 'Dark' in nature and revoked many of their rights and freedoms because of this. [The Werewolves couldn't even get a job because the magical population feared them for being 'dangerous' when they are only 'dangerous' for three days of the entire month."
Currently, the MUN has sent officials to survey the extent of the damage that has been done during the civil war within the United Kingdom as well as conduct a proper election for the next British Minister of Magic after the disgraceful discharge of the former British Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge.
Now, Mr Potter is travelling the world after renouncing his British citizenship but has leaked information about his decision to live in the Asian-Pacific after he finishes his travels.
More information can be found on the website.
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...I...am unsure whether this is actually a good fanfic or not. It seems to be rather random as well...meh, this was suppose to be an emotionless Harry story but the story did seem to lose its plot halfway through. Damn.