Plot Bunny #4

History Museum of the Guardians

Summary: This is the History Museum of the Guardians who helped defeat the Dark Forces of the Second War. A mother and her child visit for the first time, trying to unlock a mystery that has lasted for ten years.

"Look, Mommy! We're here! We're here!" a little voice cries out, trying to run up the rest of the walkway to the door. One of the child's small hands was clutching his mother's hand attempting to drag her to the building. Bright, innocent eyes were alight with excitement at the site of the grand museum. The letters on the sign above the doorway glittered in the sunlight, spelling 'History Museum of the Guardians' while the walls themselves shined with a supernatural light. It was an impressive sight along with the steady flow of other people also entering the building.

As they entered the building the crowd of people divided into three groups. Most of the people drifted to the War Hall where paintings, photographs, recorded interviews and other memorabilia related to the Second War were on display. Some of the adults and the elderly were veterans of the war, wanting to remember and relive those violent and harsh times to keep the memory alive. Others were people who wanted to know more about the climatic event that shaped their lives and humanity's future. A majority of the children and teens flocked to the Simulation Rooms, eagerly rushing to the various game rooms. Each child could choose a Guardian they wanted to be and could pretend that they were one of the heroes that saved the Wizarding World. Slashing through enemies or protecting innocents, they could temporarily pretend that they were someone everyone knew, loved, and remembered. The parent with her child didn't go to either of these places, choosing to go to the Hall of Guardians. Inside were relics of the Second War, the various weapons and items left behind by the Guardians at the end of the war, the only things the populace had left of the Guardians to remember them by.

Walking into the Hall of Guardians, the child spared a moment to glance back at the multitude of children chatting joyously as they walked towards the Simulation Rooms. There were few people in the Hall of Guardians, all of the items inside having lost their glamour years ago. Everyone in the Wizarding World had heard of the weapons, read books and news articles having been published about them multiple times over the years, and had seen various pieces of artwork that had been dedicated to each of the items just as many times. Recently, most people preferred the moving pictures reenacting various battles from the war, or the recorded speeches from before and after the war, or the simulation rooms where you could be in the battle.

For the mother and her child this was their first time going to the museum. Many people had told them of the glamour of the War Hall or the excitement of the Simulation Rooms, but they were here for the Hall of the Guardians. "Mommy," the child whispered, aware that a soft voice was required in a museum, "why are we at this place instead of the other ones; everyone says that the other ones are better."

The mother smiled down at her child. "I know, honey, and I'll let you go to the fun rooms later. Don't you remember, though? I was going to let you find out who your father is today."

A voice deep inside her mind whispering, "I'll come back, my love, I promise."

"I remember now! You said he was a Guardian, right, mommy?" the child's eyes had brightened once again with excitement, easily forgetting about the game rooms.

"Yes, but you have to guess which one, ok?"

"Ok…"

All of the items were individually displayed on two rows of ivory columns, a curtained doorway at the end of the Hall. Atop of each was a black velvet pillow surrounded by a bubble of magic that prevented any harm to happen to any of the items. Some had wider columns to accommodate their size, while most had columns of the same size. Light blue rays of magic kept viewers a foot away from each object, an invisible wall also erected to ensure no one accidentally knocked down anything. Overall the Hall was elegant but simple, nothing adorning its walls and no fancy carpeting.

The first item was a whistle. It had a simple, thin metal chain attached to it. Most people didn't know what the whistle was made out of, but dragon tamers identified the material as the scale of a dragon. Many jewelers were envious of whoever had made the whistle, as nothing had been ever made of dragon scales except for clothing. This was due to the fact that with clothing one did not have to change the natural shape of the scales. The whistle was shaped like a mini dragon head, its muzzle open in a way that one could imagine fire spewing out. Two smaller holes were where the eyes would have been. Small rainbows appeared when light hit the whistle at different angles and it always sparkled magnificently.

"Mommy, what was this used for? It doesn't look like it'd do much in a battle…"

"This wasn't used to fight, dear. It was used to call upon a dragon."

"A dragon? Cool!"

The woman smiled down at her child, sadly remembering the fall of this Guardian.

A sharp ring was heard across the battlefield and many warriors, friends and foes alike, cringed at the sound. Roaring as she arrived a dark red dragon flew over the fighting, heeding her call. Torrents of fire sprang from her mouth, taking down dozens of enemies that were too slow to shield themselves. Hair as red as the dragon's flames whipped around the face of the man who had blown the whistle, the man fighting off enemy after enemy while awaiting his companion. His hair reached the small of his back, and his eyes were dark with the intent to kill. Soon he was swooped up by his dragon and he attacked from the sky with her.

"Yes, a dragon. Rumors say that the dragon was his lover cursed into the form of the beast. They rarely spent time away from each other. It took thousands of the enemy soldiers to take them down."

And yet, they were the first to die…

They moved on, having spent enough time gazing at the whistle. The next item was simpler than the last, but just as special. It was a scythe that was around five feet long with a c-shaped blade at the end. The blade itself was three feet long, and made of ice. Both pieces contrasted each other, the pole a dark black and the icy blade white as snow.

"Why isn't the blade melting, Mommy?"

"It's magical. It can also turn into a blade of fire, but was found in its ice form."

Throughthe throngs of Dark Warriors, Death Eaters along with Dark Creatures, a lithe figure ran, killing tens of enemies in seconds. First there was a slash of ice, and then instantaneously it turned into a burning flame, burning the next. Soon hundreds of warriors surrounded the figure and it was trapped. A gush of wind blew back the hood of the figure's long black cloak and beautiful feminine face was revealed. Bright red eyes glared at those around her, stark white hair threatening to fly out of her cloak. Spinning her scythe it switched from fire to ice and back to fire continuously until one of the warriors sprang out towards her. She fought hard and long, taking down many as the hundreds began to swarm her.

An hour later she was the next of the Guardians to fall.

Leaving her memories, the woman realized her child had already moved on to the next item. She walked over to her child, amused at the confusion etched on the small face. "What's wrong, dear?"

The little one turned, still wearing an expression of complete confusion, "Why is this one just a plain old hammer?"

"It's a little big for a plain hammer, but either way this was all that was needed. The Guardian that used this weapon was very strong and didn't need anything fancy."

A crowd ofwarriors ran at the Light side, weapons gleaming in the moonlight and lusting for blood. Suddenly, three of them fall. Others then continue to fall and some are left confused until they themselves fall to the floor in pain. As more of the enemy fell a short bulky person is revealed, swinging a mighty hammer at any in his way. Bones crushed and shattered whenever his hammer hit someone. He never moved his feet too quickly but his arms swung his weapon with surprising speed. There was an advantage to his height that most did not see him before he struck, but a few archers had joined the Dark. After he had taken down a couple hundred of warriors, an arrow struck him in the shoulder, quickly followed by dozens more.

And thus is how he became the next Guardian to fall.

"Oh, I get it. He sounds like a Dwarf."

"He might have been, but no one really knew much about the Guardians. They were a very secretive group of people that protected villages from raids and joined the Final Battle when the Dark Lord called in a surprise group of reinforcements. Other than those times, no one ever saw the Guardians or knew what they did."

"Didn't they have families, Mommy? Like father?"

"The Guardians weren't allowed to love, dear. They believed it was a weakness, except for your father. I didn't even know he was a Guardian until right before the Final Battle."

It was dark. Like every other time they met each other. The first time she had met him was on the way home, a group of thugs had tried to assault her and he had saved her. Ever since then she walked home the same way and they met each other at the same spot, their relationship slowly growing from there. They would simply talk in the darkness as they strolled along, conversing about everything and nothing at the same time. She doubted he knew what she looked like and she didn't know what he looked like. She doubted that either of them cared. One night, however, the night before the Final Battle, they decided to take their relationship one step further. They didn't know if they would ever see each other again, and needed something that they could use to share how deeply they wanted each other to survive, to be there after the war, to know just how much they loved the other in a way words could not describe.

As he had gotten up to leave the next morning, she glimpsed his face. It was so long ago she couldn't remember the details anymore. Except, on his neck was a bold G with two swords crossed in an X behind it. A symbol many villagers claimed to have seen on the Guardians who had saved them from the Death Eaters of the Dark Army. Many associated the symbol with the Guardians and made merchandise with the symbol adorning some part of them. Another tattoo was spread across his chest, a black stallion with fire at its hooves as it ran across his skin.

"You're a Guardian?"

The question needn't have been asked; he had seen her gaze lock on his neck. The answer was equally unnecessary, but both needed to hear the words.

"…Yes, I thought it was safer that you didn't know. Don't worry. I'll come back, my love, I promise."

"What's that?"

Again, as she was lost in thought, her child had sped over to the next item without her. He was now staring with wide eyes at two blades. They weren't designed like normal blades in that they were curved like an L. Each the blades had a dull hooked tip as if something would be tied there. The hilts, or handles, of each blade were longer than a normal blade. On the bottoms of each hilt was a latch of some sort that made it look like the two blades could connect together. A string was also coiled in a small coil between the two blades.

"The two blades belonged to a pair of twins. When put together the blades turned into a bow with bladed edges. The dull hooks are for that string to tie onto without getting cut."

"Then where are the arrows?"

"The arrows that they used were made out of their magic."

Back to back the two brothers fought, looking like mirror images of the other. If enemies tried to charge in between them the twins knew which of them would go to the right and which would go to the left without even saying anything to the other. As their enemies tried to back away from them to get them to step away from each other they combined their blades into a bladed bow. One of the twins held off enemies with martial arts while the other produced arrows made of magic, shooting all those in the distance. Their efforts weren't enough, though. Enemies kept coming and coming, and one of the twins eventually ran out of magic, the other running out of breath.

Two green flashes ended the lives of two more Guardians.

This time she let her child gaze at the two blades, moving on to the next glass box. On top of the ivory column was the same black pillow that adorned each pillar. In the center was a small indent where an even smaller piece of wood lay. The sight of it caused a sad smile to form upon her lips, memories flashing by right behind her thoughts. Such a tiny object revealed so much about this Guardian's personality, and it was unfortunate that the accompanying glove that was supposed to lie next to the small item had been lost in the Second War's carnage. Without looking, she could tell her child had moved on from the twin blades, now inspecting the small sliver of wood innocently resting upon the black velvet. She could sense the immense curiosity rolling off her little one, knowing that if she looked there would be an abundance of confusion in those small, bright eyes.

"This is a wand, used to control magic,"

"I know what wand does, Mommy! Why is it so small?"

"So it could be easily hidden within a glove, fooling enemies to believe the Guardian could wield wandless magic; a feat only very few have ever achieved in the history of magic."

"Sounds like a show off…"

She quietly laughed at the mumbled words.

Gloved hands moved in flowing arcs, like a conductor orchestrating a symphony to amaze the masses. Streams of light flew from the moving hands, striking countless warriors to their deaths. Weapons floated and fought as if of their own free will, shields blocked and parried, wind rushed, water crashed, anything and everything within the conductor's sight was utilized as efficiently as possible surrounded by warriors, demons, creatures, and more. A smirk lit the face of the Guardian, seeing the partially concealed awe of his enemies at his display of prowess, only an illusion of cunning he had mastered long ago. Dancing through the battlefield with his flowing hands, he was caught wholly unaware as a tower of flames suddenly shot up around him. Eating at the oxygen surrounding him, charring his clothes, his hair, his skin, the blazing inferno soon consumed him without even touching him. A soldier swore he saw the Guardian sadly smile, mouthing "I'm sorry…" right before the flames concealed him.

Miraculously at the bottom of the pile of ash, previously one of the grand Guardians, a few silk threads had survived while wrapped around the tiny wand.

"Come, let's see the next one."

Reminded of the other items on display the young child excitedly hurried to the next column, almost yanking on her hand. Curiosity had once again lit up the child's eyes, wondering what other wonders could be left to see. However, the little one had to tip-toe to glance the next item. Against the dark and soft material of the pillow, the item had slightly sunken down, the coloring causing further concealment. The correct tense would be items as more than one object adorned the velvet. A few small bottles lay on their sides on top of the pillow, cracks and chips covering parts of them. Next to the bottles, arrayed like an oriental fan, were long, thin pieces of metal, sharpened at one end. Throughout the group of needles, many cast off various colors when the light shined in just the right angle; some blue, some green, some yellow, some … some a variety of colors.

Surprisingly, no questions were asked about this set of items. At her little one's age it wasn't too surprising if the purpose of these items was guessed. A set of needles, a group of flasks… "What do you think these were for honey?" she asked, wondering what answer would be given. Bouts of intelligence were adorable when spoken through the young voice of a child and it would delight her to no end to hear such an action demonstrated by her own offspring.

For a small while her young one was flustered, obviously not wanting to say something completely incorrect. "Well…" began the child, "I think the bottles were for good and bad stuff that you drink, like what you gave me to make me feel better when I was sick, and the pointy things could give you the stuff, 'specially for the bad stuff as it'd hurt but sometimes it hurts for a good reason like when I was sick the other time and…"

Before her child could ramble on further she cupped her child's face with both of her hands, a happy smile on her face. "You're so smart, I knew you knew the answer," as she complimented her little one, the child's face shined with the abundance of pleasure from her words. Touching her forehead to the considerably smaller one, they smiled at each other silently for a time before laughing.

Years of built up tolerance saved the Guardian as he spread poisonous powders into the air surrounding him. Carefully held breath also contributed to allowing the deadly air around him to be ineffective, except to his enemies who were currently choking on their own air, tearing out their own eyes, or dying in some other gruesome fashion. Through the enemy's plight with fighting the air they breathed, others farther away dropped dead finding themselves impaled with a torturously long needle in random places. Even those who dodged died if damaged with any other type of open wound caused by one of the needles. The Guardian's movements were stealthy and quick, untrained eyes having great difficulty tracking when he threw the needles, when he uncapped a bottle of powders or liquid, when he dodged attacks, and whether or not he was actually moving at all.

Then, a voice called out a name, the Guardian whipping around to see a figure stumble to the ground nearby. Rushing to the figure, worry clouded the Guardian's eyes, tearing out various bottles and needles and feeding them to the fallen warrior or poking the warrior in various acupuncture points. Allies soon surrounded the two on the ground, determined to not allow anyone to disrupt the Guardian from healing someone. Taking in deep breaths, the Guardian calmed the frantic movements previously encompassing the mind. Steadily and methodically more bottles were fed to the fallen figure, more needles poked in various places combined with whispered enchantments. However, nothing seemed to be working, the figure slowly beginning to close its eyes. An almost frustrated worry overcame the Guardian, searching throughout various other bottles and needles and thoughts as to what could help the life not be lost.

A flash of movement, shock overwhelming pale features, deep black eyes darkening further as a barely whispered "why…?" escaped parted lips…

The next Guardian fallen by once cherished hands.

Most of the warriors fighting around the two had left them unwatched, and were surprised when both had perished. Many claimed to see the betrayal, others claimed the figure died, the Guardian dying of a broken heart, but it was common knowledge the Guardians were supposed to contain sealed hearts and no one voiced their arguments for long. Countless novels had been written based upon this fantasized love story, but only two knew the truth. Both carried the secret to their graves in each other's arms.

Walking further down the Hall only two columns were left for the mother and her child to view. Two more items left to unravel; two more memories left to explore. As they reached the second to last column, a tiny voice spoke out.

"Mommy, I don't want to guess anymore…"

"Why not, honey?"

Waving a thin arm in the direction of the other items, the child complained, "There's too many! All of them are different too, and cool, but…"

Suddenly, she understood, but still asked, "What's wrong?"

Sheepishly, her child looked away and explained, "I really really want to know who my father is, but what if I choose the wrong one? What if he'll be sad that I couldn't tell which Guardian he was?" Sniffles came from her child, and she lifted up the small face to look directly into the sad eyes of her offspring.

"He wouldn't be sad if you were wrong, honey. Don't worry, though, I'll tell you later, okay?"

Wiping away almost fallen tears, the small child nodded.

Lightly resting on the black pillow were two deep blue feathers. Seeing her child turn to her, she answered the unspoken question, "These two feathers were the only things that were found of this Guardian. The say this Guardian had wings like an angel." Awe clearly showed on the child's face, turning back to look at the two innocent feathers. They looked so soft, and were almost as long as the child's arm. At the edges of the feathers there were tiny bits of light blue specs almost too small to see.

High above the battleground, another series of battles raged on. Winged demons, furies, griffons, thestrals, hippogriffs, phoenixes even, any type of creature that could fly was up in the air supporting either the Light or the Dark Forces. Any sort of middle ground didn't exist in the minds of the animals; there was the side that would provide salvation for their kind and the side that wouldn't. It was no longer a matter of could or couldn't anymore either. In the midst of the Light Forces was one human, adorned with massive wings sprouting from the hips. The deep blue contrasted greatly to the considerably lighter skin of the Guardian. Using a language that could be understood but not heard he led the Flight Forces (dubbed so comically) and added his own might through magic spells and shields.

The two forces of the air were evenly matched, neither side winning or losing over the other. Equal amounts of allies were lost as the war raged on, though both forces maintained the bulk of their respective armies. Any side could have won, any side could have lost, but both could not tell who would end up soaring the skies and who would end up grounded in death. Neither group of creatures lost sight of the ground, though, keeping close watch on which of the land forces was winning and which would lose. Paying partial attention could have been the cause for the aerial battles to not be as fatal and fierce as the land battles, but without the land battles the creatures had no reason to fight.

Unexpectedly, the leader of the Flight Forces shot towards the ground, deep blue wings fighting to force his body faster with each stroke.

The winged Guardian was never seen again, except for the two feathers found in the aftermath. Blood had been found nearby, but the entire battlefield had been soaked with the substance.

Slowly and silently, the two first-time visitors approached the last column. This column was blocked by a curtain of dark red silk. The doorway itself was similar to the rest of the Hall, elegantly simple with a black threshold decorated with a simple white vine design. Magically the crimson material moved out of the way for the mother and her child, revealing the last ivory column and black velvet pillow.

The pillow was empty.

Behind the column was a platinum plaque hung on the back wall. In deep gold lettering it read,

This column is a testament to the greatest Guardian of them all. Leader of the strongest witches and wizards in the entirety of the history of Magic itself, this Guardian provided the pivotal power needed to defeat the Dark during the Wizarding World's weakest eras. Silently supporting the Light from the shadows, the Guardians provided protection, care, and hope to beings across the globe, whether they are magical, muggle, creature, or something else entirely. All was done opposing the Dark and their evil, vicious, and unmerciful ways. While each Guardian contributed a unique aspect of strength to the Guardians, this particular Guardian gave all of them the strength of connectedness, purpose, and integral respect. It is to this author's regret that no weapon, article of clothing, or any other sign of this Guardians existence survived the Second War other than the memory of those who persevered and made it out of the carnage. That memory is what will keep this Guardian alive in our hearts along with each and every other Guardian that sacrificed their lives for the plight of the unjustly suffering people throughout the world. No other being in existence will ever equal the presence of this remarkable individual and the companions that stood by this Guardian's side.

[No sign of death ever found; if any sign of existence is found please contact the current head authority immediately]

After reading the plaque out to her child, she stood there staring at the empty pillow, wondering if anything they could have ever found would justly represent the leader of the Guardians. She didn't believe anything in existence could appropriately symbolize the figure that saved the world, not just humanity but everyone and everything else as well. Even after ten years the aftereffects of the Second War still hadn't gone away, magic only beginning to return to the land of the Final Battle. No one completely remembers how the war ended anymore, and mysteriously no record of the Second War's end survived. What society did know was that it left the land of the Final Battle magic-less, no magic able to be performed there, taken there, none existed there after the Battle ended. The Dark Forces had been annihilated, the aerial forces, all having been creatures of at least some intelligence, surrendering soon after. It had taken years, but society had rebuilt itself. Even so, nothing was the same as before the Second War.

Taking her child's hand, she walked out of the secluded room, passing by each relic of the War. At the end of the Hall she turned back, gazing at the rows of ivory columns, and left the Hall of Guardians.

"Mommy…"

"Yes, dear?"

"You never told me who my father was,"

"Sweetie, that's because…" her voice trailed off, thoughts swirling in her mind. A deep sadness enveloped her, and she resisted the urge to look back once again at the Hall of Guardians. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Smiling softly, she looked down at her child, holding back tears. Traitorously, a tiny tear just escaped one of her eyes, small enough so that only she knew it had fallen. Kneeling down on the ground she was still taller than her child and looked down at the bundle of innocence she had given birth to. Opening her slightly shaking lips, she said, "It's because…"

Predictably, the young one looked up expectantly, countless questions in those small, sweet a barely audible whisper, she answered her child's questioning gaze…

"I never knew."