Hope your all prepared for a little plot development! Here is where you see why I needed Mai in the story. I guess her character is similar to Komui's in Man- she is critical to the character but not a critical character in herself (Sorry Necronwarrior- Unless I can find a way to somehow tie her in. I have no ideas yet but we shall see- she may indeed become useful again at some point in the future, in which case, yes, you totally called it :P)
Kureru- Thank you!I am quite fond of my brain myself. Don't know were I'd be without it ^^
Claudia Dionzeros- They will do as any good government does when presented with information critical to their countries well-being and safety. They will stick their fingers in their ears, screw up their eyes and pretend it's not there.
Allen took a deep breath
"I am afraid there is very little I can tell you about how my arm came to be the way it is. It had been like this as long as I can remember and unfortunately I never knew my parents so I can't tell you if I was born like this or not. In fact, I don't really know much at all about my childhood, my earliest memories are of living on the streets, alone" He shifted slightly in his seat and licked his lips glancing nervously up at Dumbledore again before continuing "Then I met Mana. He was a clown at a travelling circus and he took me in. Taught me... how to deal with life, with people. I was a bit of a wreck to be honest when he found me" A small smile graced the boys face as he reminisced "I was angry at the world, full of bitterness and resentment for the lot life had dealt me. Mana showed me happiness, security" he gave a dry chuckle "He even knocked some manners into me. We travelled together, going from circus to circus, country to country. We had no home, but we needed no home. We were... happy, content to be with each other, the surroundings seemed... immaterial somehow. Mana became my family, I took on his last name, viewed him as a father and I think... I hope he viewed me as a son too. We were together for a few marvellous years"
The smile faded from the boys face and Dumbledore's heart sank, he knew that look- that expression- he didn't need the boy to continue the story to know what happened "He died" Allen said bluntly, with no preamble, no explanation. He bowed his head and continued his story; eyes shut tight "I don't know how. Why. All I know is he left me. They buried him- the circus people- and left. I stayed. Stayed with him. Didn't know how to be without him" Allen shook his head and let out a low, bitter laugh, tilting his head back, opening his eyes, staring up at the ceiling, in an attempt to ward of tears "I should have kept walking" he muttered, almost to himself "If I had listened to him and kept walking..." he trailed off and gave a small sigh. "How long I sat there I don't know. A man appeared to me. At least I think it was a man. He told me... told me I could have Mana back. Could be reunited with my dad, could regain the life I had lost" he snorted and shook his head "I believed him- stupid naive child that I was. He brought out this metal skeleton, sat it in front of me, told me all I needed to do was to call out for my Mana with my heart and soul and we would be reunited"
There was a pause and Dumbledore glanced over at the boy, almost fearful for what would come next "I called him" came the strained whisper- barely audible and Dumbledore sighed tucking his chin into his chest. Of course he had. Who wouldn't? The boy continued his story, his voice becoming stronger and faster, as if he was frightened to slow down unless he stopped altogether "There was a flash, the statue came to life, Mana's name inscribed on its forehead. It woke, moved, I thought, thought he had returned to me, that we would be together again. I didn't care that he was a metal skeleton; we would deal with that somehow all that mattered to me was that he was there to tell me what to do again, to tell me to sit up straight at the table, that children should be seen and not heard. To wrap me up against the cold and give me that sense of security again, to sing to me just one last time" an almost ecstatic look had come over the boys face as he remembered the hope he had felt- Dumbledore had a sudden urge to cry out. To stop the inevitable 'but' that was about to come. To leave the story unfinished, with the hope and joy rather than carry on to the inescapable crash, the unavoidable disappointment and terribly painful truth. The dead didn't come back. Never. Not even ghosts were a true return to earth and loved ones were always to be disappointed.
"He cried out in pain." his voice faltered slightly here "it was wrong. All wrong. He cried out to me, furious that I had brought him back, that I had so selfishly reclaimed him from God. He... He cursed me, slashed my face with his arm. And then" He seemed to almost loose the will to go on here, tears spilled over and ran down his cheeks "He was ordered to kill me, to wear my skin as his own, but before he could, my cursed arm... it... it changed. Became big, moved on its own and it... it killed him. I killed him. Killed the only man who..." He broke himself off here and fell silent, struggling to regain his composition.
Dumbledore raised his head sharply- up until this point he had expected the boy to carry on and say that it had all been a trick, a farce, some cruel joke or twisted game played on an innocent child- but no- there was no mistaking it, this man's soul had been returned to earth. Impossible his mind immediately said but no- that was the only logical explanation, the fact that the return had been horrible, twisted and painful only served to confirm this theory. If the statue had seemed loving and free when it had awoken, he would have been suspicious but the pain it had felt, the anger and it's link to the one who had built it's body... it's need to kill...this could be the missing link, the answer to all his questions, he had never considered it up until now, but perhaps that long tabooed and feared branch of magic had returned. Dumbledore shivered, this was not good. Not good at all. But how had the boy destroyed it? What was the secret behind that arm?(1)
He glanced up at the interrogator. The man was white as a sheet, staring at the boy as if he had grown two heads and began spouting mermish. Behind him, his assistant ran check after check on the machine, unwilling to accept that the terrible tale we were hearing was true
"My hair turned white after that" the boy's voice was low and flat again "from that day on, I have born this scar as a punishment for my sin. As for what happened to me after that, I'm afraid I can tell you very little indeed. In fact I have no memories at all of what happened between that incident and when I found Mai here, alone and abandoned in a Japanese village. I had been walking on a sort of auto pilot till then I guess, body still functioning but my mind had shut down. She woke me again, somehow. Just holding her in my arms was enough to slowly banish the numbness that had engulfed me. Suddenly I had someone who needed me, I couldn't continue on the way I was going any more- uncaring as to whether I lived or not because although I had every right to be as careless as I wished with my life, I couldn't treat her in the same careless way. As soon as I lifted her up, I chose to be responsible for her. I suppose it was at that stage that I stopped walking for the dead and began walking for the living" he said, once again seeming to be speaking to himself as much as us. He wiped the tears off his face and took a deep breath. "After I regained some form of consciousness, I began to look for answers myself, and I believe I can explain a little of what happened to me"
Hint hint hint hint :D
More Explanation in the next chapter which I will aim to upload... say... Saturday?
P.S, Kureru, I revoke what I previously said- there will be some more Harry and Allen hilarity before the fictional summer hollidays. I'm in the mood for a foolish chapter after so much seriousness. You're welcome!
