Harry Potter and the Guardian of Magic

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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!)

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This story takes place after Order of the Phoenix

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Chapter Five: Pieces of the Broken Puzzle

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It had been two days since Harry had gotten the box, and he was still no closer to figuring out what it was, or what it was supposed to do.

He had recovered somewhat from the shock of the note from Sirius. He still couldn't figure out how Sirius had managed to send the note to him after his death, unless it was something he had put away until demise, then it was to be sent to Harry.

"Yes.. that could be it.." Harry mused silently to himself, "..but, somehow, I don't think it is."

Harry reclined back in his chair, his hands behind his head as he removed his eyes from the box again, sighing.

As soon as he recovered from the initial shock, he had immediately tried several spells to repair it, but all his magic seemed to fizzle out before it could get near them shards.

That was a mystery in itself. According to Hermione, there were very few objects that totally negated magic, and even those should cease to work if they were broken.

Shaking his head, as if clearing it of some bothersome pest, Harry stood up and left the room, descending the stairs slowly towards the kitchen, and lunch, still thinking of the broken orb in spite of him-self.

Reaching the first floor, Harry glanced around, more out curiosity than anything, but stopped dead when he saw a figure by the window.

Though his face couldn't be seen, Harry was fairly certain the man saw him looking at him, this thought quickly becoming true when the man jumped up and ran.

Running to the door, wand in hand, Harry began to recall a few spells that he could use to disable the man, selecting a simple binding curse as he threw the door open.

Fully expecting to see the stranger only a few steps away, Harry was taken by surprise when there was no one to be seen.

Harry turned, sliding his wand back into his pocket as he began to shut the door, stopping when he saw the face from the window hovering inches away from him.

He was less startled by the fact that he hadn't heard the man sneak in as by the fact that he had no body.

As his wand was leveling off at the face, Harry was knocked to his feet by an unseen force, the same force that was now trying to rip his wand from his hand.

His sense of self-preservation kicked in as he began to shout for help, still struggling with the force that was tugging at his wand.

A few seconds later, Mrs. Weasely came through the door to the kitchen, her face annoyed at the yelling, but quickly turning to surprise then anger as her wand flew from her apron to her hand.

With a flick of her wrist and a few mutter words, the force attacking Harry dissipating enough for him to gain full control of his wand and magic to blast a stunning spell at the face.

The fiery jet of light shot through the center of the face, seeming to have no apparent effect, until a moment later when it imploded on itself with a small pop.

Mrs. Weasely hurried over to Harry, stowing her wand back into her apron as she grabbed his arm and helped pull him to his feet.

"Harry, dear, are you okay?" she asked, brushing absentmindedly at the unperceivable dust at his back.

Harry nodded, his mind already working on figuring out who, and what, that thing was.

Mumbling that he we fine to Mrs. Weasely, he started back up the steps, all thoughts of lunch forgotten.

After searching through various magic books that the Weasely's had throughout the house, Harry had found only one reference to the floating face, and that had been very vague.

Enigmatic Enigmas and Rare Beasts by Frederick Fernandez VI

Name: Masquerade

Classification: Ghoul; also, loosely classified as Spirit.

Origin: Unknown

Summon by: Incantation and Sacrifice

Magic Classification: Dark

Sightings: Two

Summoning: This information is restricted.

Information: Very little information is known due to the fact that only two people have survived an attack by it, and they disappeared shortly after.

All of the victims were in possession of a strong magical artifact, most notably ones that specialized in negating magic. All of the artifacts were stolen prior to, or at the moment of, the murder.

So far, there have been five deaths, excluding the two who managed to survive the attack.

Little is known on how to defeat them, and they are to be considered very dangerous.

Harry had re-read this passage a thousand times, hoping to find something hidden between the lines, but to no avail.

He assumed that it was after the shattered orb that he possessed, which for some reason still maintained its magic field.

Going again down the steps, now unconsciously on watch for any more threats, he entered the kitchen for dinner, nodding as everyone stared at him as he entered.

Although he had been caught up in his study, he couldn't help but overhear the supposedly quiet conversation between the various residences of the house.

He sat down quietly beside Hermione, unconsciously scooting closer to her while everyone continued their scrutiny, his hand lacing together with hers under the table.

"Erm.. well.. how about we eat?" He said, looking down at the table, his hand nervously squeezing Hermione's, who was thankfully returning the favor.

After a few more moments of staring, Mrs. Weasely politely coughed and everyone quietly started dinner, a weird sensation hanging in the air in place of the usual dinner chatter.