Harry Potter and the Guardian of Magic
---------------
This is purely fan-fiction, and I, in NO way, take credit for the character
or places, except those that are my own, but I DO take credit for the ideas, because I've spent my personal time writing these and then typing these, so no flames or anything, or you won't get anymore (well..except for those people who want more, I'll type it for them, but the others can go
and just drive off a steep cliff that have jagged rocks at the bottom!)
--------------------
This story takes place after Order of the Phoenix
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Chapter Four: Shards of Glass
-------------------------
The morning light broke through the window on the Weasely's home, vertical bars of light falling across Harry through the half-open blinds.
Harry stirred, rubbing at his eyes as he searched for his glasses, feeling only slightly better rested than when he had the recurring dreams of Sirius.
He could barely remember what he said to Hermione last night, besides the fact that he was sure he had made an entire fool of himself.
Sighing, he sat up, scratching his head as he headed through the door to go downstairs to breakfast.
He stopped short after finally taking the time to notice the house. It looked.. new. The walls were smooth and freshly painted, and the floors gleamed like never before, then it hit him. Fred and George! They must have been giving their family money. He didn't know why he didn't notice it earlier.
Smiling, he descended the stairs two at a time, admiring the new feel of the house, noticing how everything seemed brighter and happier somehow.
His stomach rumbled as he got the first whiffs of sizzling food coming from the kitchen, now just realizing how hungry he was.
He rounded the corner, fully expecting to see Mrs. Weasely humming and she cooked the hot breakfast meal, and was stopped in his tracks when he saw Ginny.
For a moment, Harry didn't know what to think. He didn't think Mrs. Weasely would want anyone else to cook, even her own daughter.
Before Harry could think about it further, his stomach rumbled, quickly subduing any thought he had other than food.
He left his place at the door and went into the kitchen, pulling out a chair to sit down in, "Good morning.. and.. why are you cooking for?"
Without turning, Ginny began chattering away on how her Mother was out shopping and Dad had left for work, and no one else was up yet.
Harry nodded numbly, not used to such a high pace of talking in the morning.
After she died down, Harry got a chance to take in the gleaming kitchen before everyone else bustled in, each in a varying degree of awake and awareness.
Ron sat down beside him, groggily looking around for something to drink while he mumbled to Harry, "'orning.."
Suppressing a smile, Harry got up and set the table for breakfast, setting down the last plate when Ginny was finished cooking.
Food was quickly distributed, and while everyone was hungry, they weren't going to eat until Hermione showed up, no matter how much Ron protested.
After waiting a few more moments, Ginny elected Harry to go up and see what was taking Hermione so long, and under protest, he went.
Trying to compose his thoughts as he made his way up the stairs, Harry didn't hear the footsteps heading towards him until they were right up on him, bringing him from his reverie with a start.
"Ginny sent me to find you," he began, feeling awkward enough by the simple fact that she was looking at him.
Hermione stopped him short by narrowing her eyes slightly, her voice taking on a timbre of injured dignity, "I just woke up a little late. I don't need you to come and get me to.." her voice drifted off as his eyes get wide with anger.
"I didn't even want to come and get you! They told me to! It's not my fault!" Harry said, swinging his arms as to drive his point home, only succeeding in wrapping his knuckles off the wall.
The tension that had been building broke as Hermione grinned slightly before laughing aloud at the pained look on Harry's face as he tried to ease the pain in his knuckles.
"Harry.. about yesterday.. I'm sorry.. I shouldn't have acted like that.." Hermione managed to quell her laughter long enough to look into Harry's eyes.
Harry shook his head slightly, still absentmindedly rubbing his battered knuckles, "No. It's my fault. I shouldn't have kissed you.. I just.. couldn't help it.." he smiled in spite of himself at the memory, a slight blush rising to his cheeks as he though about it.
Before Harry could react, Hermione's lips were pressed against his, his mind racing about what to do next, besides the obvious choice of kissing her back.
After a few moments Harry reacted, placing his arms around her lightly, and at that exact moment, Mrs. Weasely chose to come up the stairs, carrying a box wrapped in brown paper.
With a shriek that stopped the two in their tracks, Mrs. Weasely let the box fall to the stairs, the object contained within shattering as it bounced down the steps, he hands placed against the side of her face.
"Wh-wh-," was all she managed to stammer out, her eyes darting around, trying to look at anything but them, "Sorry about that.. I'll.. erm.. just go.."
Mrs. Weasely turned and walked down the steps in slow, composed steps that suggested she might break into a run at any moment.
She stopped when she reached the point where the box and finally stopped, the wrapping around it torn, revealing a delicately carved wooden box underneath.
Turning around, she looked at it, then to Harry who was still holding Hermione close, looking decidedly ill at the moment.
"Harry dear.. this came for you in the post.." she looked uncertainly at the box again as a small shatter could be heard, making her wince visibly as it seemed to hang in the air.
Harry walked down the steps, Hermione following close behind, and stopped before Mrs. Weasely and took the box from her.
Harry gently peeled away the remainder of the wrapping, cringing as he took in the scratches to the polished cedar box.
On the top of the box was a small depression, clearly intended to be there. He slipped his fingers around it and heard the box click, and watched in wonder as the top detached itself from the main portion of the box.
Harry gently set the top aside and sat down on the stairs, looking at the contents of the box.
Inside, there were thousands of pieces of glass, some pieces large enough to see the detail embossed on it. And there, in the middle, lay a small folded note, sealed with a simple black seal with no markings.
Reaching down, Harry gently moved aside the pieces, pulling out the parchment and shaking the last bit of glass off of it.
He broke the seal and slowly unfolded it, swallowing hard as he realized the handwriting on the note:
Harry,
Inside this box, there is a power object of magic, passed down from generation to generation in the Black family. If you are able to unravel the mystery surrounding it, as none in our Family has, things you have long been wondering will be explained;.
Do not worry about me, because I am fine. I fear for your safety now that I'm not there to watch over you, at least not in the bodily sense. I will help you if I can, and be sure that I am never far off.
Sirius
The note slipped from numb fingers as Harry stared dumb-founded into the box, watching as the small but powerful letter slid down to rest on top of the largest piece of glass left.
Without saying a word, Harry picked up the box and shut the lid back on it, picking it up and going to his room, shutting the door softly behind him so that none may hear him weep.
---------------
This is purely fan-fiction, and I, in NO way, take credit for the character
or places, except those that are my own, but I DO take credit for the ideas, because I've spent my personal time writing these and then typing these, so no flames or anything, or you won't get anymore (well..except for those people who want more, I'll type it for them, but the others can go
and just drive off a steep cliff that have jagged rocks at the bottom!)
--------------------
This story takes place after Order of the Phoenix
-------------------
Chapter Four: Shards of Glass
-------------------------
The morning light broke through the window on the Weasely's home, vertical bars of light falling across Harry through the half-open blinds.
Harry stirred, rubbing at his eyes as he searched for his glasses, feeling only slightly better rested than when he had the recurring dreams of Sirius.
He could barely remember what he said to Hermione last night, besides the fact that he was sure he had made an entire fool of himself.
Sighing, he sat up, scratching his head as he headed through the door to go downstairs to breakfast.
He stopped short after finally taking the time to notice the house. It looked.. new. The walls were smooth and freshly painted, and the floors gleamed like never before, then it hit him. Fred and George! They must have been giving their family money. He didn't know why he didn't notice it earlier.
Smiling, he descended the stairs two at a time, admiring the new feel of the house, noticing how everything seemed brighter and happier somehow.
His stomach rumbled as he got the first whiffs of sizzling food coming from the kitchen, now just realizing how hungry he was.
He rounded the corner, fully expecting to see Mrs. Weasely humming and she cooked the hot breakfast meal, and was stopped in his tracks when he saw Ginny.
For a moment, Harry didn't know what to think. He didn't think Mrs. Weasely would want anyone else to cook, even her own daughter.
Before Harry could think about it further, his stomach rumbled, quickly subduing any thought he had other than food.
He left his place at the door and went into the kitchen, pulling out a chair to sit down in, "Good morning.. and.. why are you cooking for?"
Without turning, Ginny began chattering away on how her Mother was out shopping and Dad had left for work, and no one else was up yet.
Harry nodded numbly, not used to such a high pace of talking in the morning.
After she died down, Harry got a chance to take in the gleaming kitchen before everyone else bustled in, each in a varying degree of awake and awareness.
Ron sat down beside him, groggily looking around for something to drink while he mumbled to Harry, "'orning.."
Suppressing a smile, Harry got up and set the table for breakfast, setting down the last plate when Ginny was finished cooking.
Food was quickly distributed, and while everyone was hungry, they weren't going to eat until Hermione showed up, no matter how much Ron protested.
After waiting a few more moments, Ginny elected Harry to go up and see what was taking Hermione so long, and under protest, he went.
Trying to compose his thoughts as he made his way up the stairs, Harry didn't hear the footsteps heading towards him until they were right up on him, bringing him from his reverie with a start.
"Ginny sent me to find you," he began, feeling awkward enough by the simple fact that she was looking at him.
Hermione stopped him short by narrowing her eyes slightly, her voice taking on a timbre of injured dignity, "I just woke up a little late. I don't need you to come and get me to.." her voice drifted off as his eyes get wide with anger.
"I didn't even want to come and get you! They told me to! It's not my fault!" Harry said, swinging his arms as to drive his point home, only succeeding in wrapping his knuckles off the wall.
The tension that had been building broke as Hermione grinned slightly before laughing aloud at the pained look on Harry's face as he tried to ease the pain in his knuckles.
"Harry.. about yesterday.. I'm sorry.. I shouldn't have acted like that.." Hermione managed to quell her laughter long enough to look into Harry's eyes.
Harry shook his head slightly, still absentmindedly rubbing his battered knuckles, "No. It's my fault. I shouldn't have kissed you.. I just.. couldn't help it.." he smiled in spite of himself at the memory, a slight blush rising to his cheeks as he though about it.
Before Harry could react, Hermione's lips were pressed against his, his mind racing about what to do next, besides the obvious choice of kissing her back.
After a few moments Harry reacted, placing his arms around her lightly, and at that exact moment, Mrs. Weasely chose to come up the stairs, carrying a box wrapped in brown paper.
With a shriek that stopped the two in their tracks, Mrs. Weasely let the box fall to the stairs, the object contained within shattering as it bounced down the steps, he hands placed against the side of her face.
"Wh-wh-," was all she managed to stammer out, her eyes darting around, trying to look at anything but them, "Sorry about that.. I'll.. erm.. just go.."
Mrs. Weasely turned and walked down the steps in slow, composed steps that suggested she might break into a run at any moment.
She stopped when she reached the point where the box and finally stopped, the wrapping around it torn, revealing a delicately carved wooden box underneath.
Turning around, she looked at it, then to Harry who was still holding Hermione close, looking decidedly ill at the moment.
"Harry dear.. this came for you in the post.." she looked uncertainly at the box again as a small shatter could be heard, making her wince visibly as it seemed to hang in the air.
Harry walked down the steps, Hermione following close behind, and stopped before Mrs. Weasely and took the box from her.
Harry gently peeled away the remainder of the wrapping, cringing as he took in the scratches to the polished cedar box.
On the top of the box was a small depression, clearly intended to be there. He slipped his fingers around it and heard the box click, and watched in wonder as the top detached itself from the main portion of the box.
Harry gently set the top aside and sat down on the stairs, looking at the contents of the box.
Inside, there were thousands of pieces of glass, some pieces large enough to see the detail embossed on it. And there, in the middle, lay a small folded note, sealed with a simple black seal with no markings.
Reaching down, Harry gently moved aside the pieces, pulling out the parchment and shaking the last bit of glass off of it.
He broke the seal and slowly unfolded it, swallowing hard as he realized the handwriting on the note:
Harry,
Inside this box, there is a power object of magic, passed down from generation to generation in the Black family. If you are able to unravel the mystery surrounding it, as none in our Family has, things you have long been wondering will be explained;.
Do not worry about me, because I am fine. I fear for your safety now that I'm not there to watch over you, at least not in the bodily sense. I will help you if I can, and be sure that I am never far off.
Sirius
The note slipped from numb fingers as Harry stared dumb-founded into the box, watching as the small but powerful letter slid down to rest on top of the largest piece of glass left.
Without saying a word, Harry picked up the box and shut the lid back on it, picking it up and going to his room, shutting the door softly behind him so that none may hear him weep.