Older than Time here with a new idea to try out. This is a Bleach/HP crossover featuring a Bipolar Harry with Espada-class powers in his 3rd year. Deathly Hallows are unimportant so far and the soul fragment is negligible.
Normal appearance (post-Dursley Slaughter):
A white and purple suit:
Pale-white long sleeved, button up shirt
Royal purple vest
Deep purple tie
White sports jacket with purple lining
Wand is now white with a purple engraving of a theatre mask on the handle. Hollow mask is covered with a white scarf with purple tassels. Wears scruffy, off-white fingerless gloves and grayish-white noble-style boots.
He has two personalities with separate Resurreccions:
Descend into a spiral of never ending madness, (Chaotic Madness) – A bone-white Nightmare with armor trimmed in purple (SCIII –style) with a white and purple Phantom Soul Edge as released Zanpakutou.
A method for this insanity, (Ordered Madness) – A tattered, bone-white tuxedo and gloves with an overly large top hat. The mask is missing the top part, leaving only the jaw and lower covering intact. A jagged claymore with a purple Soul Edge eye in the middle of the hilt as a jewel serves as a released Zanpakutou.
Please enjoy and review; if wanting to adopt or use idea yourself, please PM me on my profile.
Disclaimer (for posterity): I don't own Bleach or HP.
Hollowed Heart
A yell of "Potter, stop that racket!" came from a walrus-like man downstairs. Said boy sighed in frustration as he glowered at his owl, Hedwig. She had been keening loudly because she was confined to her cage since the start of summer, almost two months ago.
Harry fed Hedwig a few owl treats not covered in mold and glanced around the tiny bedroom that had been his home for the last two and a half years. There in the corner, sat a 1 ½ meter tall glass mirror: it sported a single large crack diagonal from top to bottom. In it he could see himself; a scrawny boy wearing clothes two sizes too big with round glasses and messy jet-black hair. The boy was unremarkable in most ways, except for two.
The first was a thin scar on his forehead shaped like lightning bolt. It was always a pale red, seemingly unhealed despite the fact that he had it since he was one. Harry roughly flattened his fringe in order to hide the accursed thing; prior to his eleventh birthday, Harry had liked the scar. It made him unique and was a link to the parents he never knew. Nowadays he just tried to hide it, for it signified his miraculous survival despite the effort of the man who murdered his parents, right before he tried to kill him.
The second remarkable thing about Harry Potter was an impossible thing to the rest of the normal world; he was a wizard. That's right; Harry Potter was a boy capable of unimaginable feats of magic with a flick of a wand, provided he finished his schooling first.
It was 7:30 pm and the sun was set in Privet Drive, Surrey. Harry was having a rather unpleasant dinner with his guardians, the Dursleys, and his Aunt Marge, Mr. Dursley's obese sister. Harry's aunt, Petunia Dursley, was the elder sister of his mother. Aunt Petunia was married to Vernon, an obese, walrus-like man. Their son, a piggy blonde named Dudley scarfed down his large portion of dinner with disgusting gusto and horrid table manners; Harry got blamed for the mess.
Aunt Marge on the other hand, was a whole 'nother kettle of fish. She was a horridly rude woman that raised dogs and only visited every few years. But every time she visited, Harry's life became particularly nasty. Her favorite dog, Ripper, liked to bite and chase Harry while she goaded it on; if he evaded Ripper too well, she would reprimand him sometimes but she mostly struck him harshly.
Tonight they were having a large farewell dinner and Marge was particularly insulting. Since she was leaving the next morning, she felt as if she had to utterly destroy anything and everything that could conceivably make Harry's life any better.
Currently, she was making very specific comments on the lives of his late parents when Harry finally snapped.
The silverware rattled and the house shook; the windows would snap open and shut sharply. The dining room table split in half and the food flew around the room at high speeds. The Dursley familt was lifted and held to the ceiling by an unknown force.
The Dursley's knew what was going on, but were too frightened to say, or do, anything. Harry was slowly sharpening a cleaver that was left on the countertop as Marge was seemingly petrified in her chair. Her body was rigged and unmoving; her face however was another story.
"Stop this at once boy! Vernon, call the Bobbies! The boy has gone crazy!" she screamed as Harry slowly paced around her, playing with the cleaver idly. Harry's face was horrifying; he had a psychotic grin on his face that would have made the Joker wet himself in fear. The formerly emerald eyes were the worse. The sclera had darkened to a pitch-black and the irises had turned a sickly yellow.
But worst of all was the strange mask that was forming on the lower left side of the boy's face. It was white and seemed to be made of bone; the half that was formed took the shape of a boney set of sharp fangs that currently covered his half nose and spread down to past his neck. It circled around to the back of his head, encasing his neck as well.
Harry stopped to Marge's right as he let out a maniacal laugh that echoed as if they were in a vast room, not a small kitchen. He then lifted the shiny, and now sharpened, cleaver high above his head. His eyes glowed bright yellow and the cleaver was brought down with frightening accuracy; he had chopped off Marge's right hand. But something was wrong; there was no blood coming out, but Marge was obviously in great pain.
She was shrieking in agony as the severed hand joined the flying food around the pair. Harry began to sing a macabre song tonelessly under his breath, something about dancing in a rain of flesh and gore. The Dursley family on the ceiling could only watch in horror as Harry started to dance along with his horrible song; he was emphasizing each verse with a cleaving chop that severed another piece of Marge from the rest of her body.
After what seemed to be an eternity, the insane boy was spinning madly in place, arms flinging about and cleaver dancing in his right hand. There was nothing left that could be identified of Marge; her entire body had been reduced to small, bite-sized chunks that flew around the spinning boy. The pieces would fling droplets of blood everywhere, drenching both the Dursley's and Harry himself.
The mask had fully formed, covering the lower half of the boy's face and a good portion of his chest and upper back. It was comprised of interlocking plates of bone and the mouth had a full set of two inch long teeth. At first, they believed it to be an unmoving mask; but they were soon proven wrong.
Harry suddenly sank to his knees; the teeth separated and he let out an insane laugh that spoke of savage joy and unrelenting bloodlust. He turned his attention to them as his maniacal laughter quieted into a dark, foreboding chuckle.
Marge was just the appetizer; they were the main course.
Ok, that's what I have so far. If you hadn't guessed, I gave Harry Tia Harribel's mask. I always thought it was an awesome design and had so much potential when used as a base for other, different Resurreccions…