Becoming the Wind

Quetzal - this started off (and will likely eventually turn into) a harry potter / rise of the guardians crossover. Its from Harry's point of view, with harry potter shifted to sometime around 800 years ago for the sake of the crossover, its not necessarily relevant for this so don't worry to much, (sans flying car you can really stick that story anywhere you want and it fits in pretty nicely) it turned into something vaguely poem'ish, but I like it.

Summery - A very long time ago a boy became the wind

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Spin, spin, whirling though the sky. He could never possibly go back to the way he had once been. To earth. To form. To an existence that had been so long caged. Once, so long ago. How long had it been? He'd had but a fleeting glimpse of this, of what he could, and would, become. Soaring on a mere twig, diving, twisting, chasing things only he could see. Laughing in the brilliant sky.

Once he'd had that first taste of the sky, there had been no going back, but still, something had kept him tied down. Chains of fate and destiny kept him snared. A cage within a cage of war and pain. But mere mortal wars would always come to an end. The monster defeated, those chains crumbled. He hadn't understood really the nature of his own magic.

Maybe if he had he would have paused but for a moment to say goodbye, to smile one more time with a face he wouldn't wear again. She had smiled at him that last day, that one strange girl, a sad smile. She'd know, somehow, the same way she always seemed to know. Known that he would never walk those halls again, never step foot on the grass, or speak to those he had learned to call 'family'.

The day had been perfect, pure clear blue stretched across the horizon. Large billowing clouds dotted the sky, his playground, there, just waiting for him to take flight. He'd kicked off, the ground shot away, never to be touched again. His magic unfurled as he danced around those clouds, merging with the wind, becoming a part of it. Blending until he couldn't tell where he began and where the wind ended.

Later they would find that twig, resting on the side of the lake, as though casually tossed there while its owner raced off on another of his adventures. They would never know what became of him, never know that he still played in the sky over head. Free from the earth, never to be brought down again. They'd had him for awhile, be it by choice or circumstance, but they could have never kept him. After all, you can never tame the wind.

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quetzal - what do you think? how about a few reviews for the birthday girl? …..please? T_T pretty please?