The Marauders: A Hogwarts Tale

Professor Lagduf clapped his massive hands, the sound echoing through the orangery and commanding the class's attention. "Alright, sprouts! Let's get down to it. Today, we're repotting Screaming Sunflowers! Brace yourselves—you're in for a treat."

Within minutes, chaos descended upon the greenhouse. The high-pitched wails of the thrashing sunflowers echoed relentlessly, mingling with the groans and shouts of struggling students. Godric wrestled with his unruly plant, his protective jacket stained with earth and manure as he managed to shove it into a larger pot. His face was a mix of determination and mild horror as he tightened his grip on the flower's stem.

"Wowee, this is brilliant!" Helga cried gleefully; her cheeks smudged with dirt as she effortlessly potted her sunflower, her fingers plunging into the dirt. "I've always wanted to work with these!"

Nearby, Rowena grimaced, her usual composure slipping as her sunflower flailed wildly in her hands. "Fascinating, yes," she muttered, wincing at the noise. "But couldn't we have studied something a little bit more… quieter?"

Salazar, however, looked ready to abandon ship. Holding his plant gingerly at arm's length, he scowled as it screeched and twisted in his grip. "This," he declared, "is utterly barbaric! When, pray tell, will we ever need to know how to manage this monstrosity?"

Professor Lagduf chuckled, his tusks glinting in the sunlight. "You'd be surprised, young Slytherin. These beauties are a key ingredient in some of the most advanced potions." The orc's gaze turned pointed. "Though, I imagine you already know that, considering how highly Professor Rasputin often speaks of you."

Salazar's expression shifted briefly, surprise giving way to a flicker of pride. Godric stifled a laugh as the two exchanged a knowing glance.

By the time the clock struck four, the greenhouse was quieter, save for the occasional muffled screech of a sunflower. The students cleaned up their tools and tried in vain to brush the dirt from their robes. Godric straightened his, giving up halfway through and resigning himself to his muddy state.

"Well done, sprouts!" Professor Lagduf announced, his voice booming with approval. "For next week, I expect a full report on today's lesson—complete with the practical uses of Screaming Sunflowers. Now, off you go."

As the students began filing out, the professor's eyes flicked to a small device on his desk. Its blinking light drew his attention. Picking it up, he activated the device, which projected a tiny, shimmering holographic message. Lagduf's brows furrowed before he turned to Godric.

"Mister Gryffindor," he said, his tone serious, "a word before you leave."

Godric hesitated but stepped forward. "Is… is everything alright, Professor?"

"Nothing to worry about," Lagduf replied, showing Godric the message. "Headmaster Blaise has requested your presence in his office. Best not to keep him waiting."

Godric swallowed hard and nodded, his heart thudding in his chest.

As he rejoined his friends near the exit, Salazar leaned over with a smirk. "Ooh, someone's in trouble. What did you do this time, Gryffindor?"

"Don't jump to conclusions," Rowena interjected, her frown directed at Salazar. "I'm sure it's nothing serious. Right, Godric?"

Helga grinned mischievously and gave the young man an encouraging pat on the back. "Don't worry! If you get expelled, we'll sneak you back into the castle disguised as a house-elf!"

Godric rolled his eyes, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Helga," he said dryly. "I'll see you all at dinner, alright?"

With a final wave, Godric adjusted his bag and set off toward the headmaster's office, nerves and curiosity warring in his mind.

Godric made his way through the twisting hallways and climbing staircases, his eyes scanning the gold-embossed signs that directed him to his destination. The route led him higher and higher, to the top floor near the quarters of the faculty and the teachers' common room. At last, he arrived at a pair of towering oak doors, their surfaces intricately carved with symbols and sigils that glowed faintly in the dim light. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Godric reached for the large brass knocker. The sound echoed ominously down the corridor. A moment later, the doors swung open on their own, their hinges creaking as if reluctant to let him pass.

He stepped inside and paused, taking in the grandeur of the room. It was spacious, about half the size of a classroom, yet every inch was used to its fullest. Circular bookshelves lined the walls, packed tightly with tomes, scrolls, and artifacts. A faint, pleasant smell of parchment and polished wood filled the air. Above him, dozens of portraits stared down from the walls—men and women of various races and backgrounds, all dressed in regal robes. Their expressions ranged from stern to curious, and Godric quickly deduced they were the headmasters and headmistresses of Excalibur's storied past.

A thick crimson carpet led directly to a massive oaken desk at the center of the room, its surface gleaming as though freshly polished. Behind it sat Headmaster Blaise, his kind hazel eyes twinkled behind thin-framed glasses.

"Ah, Mister Gryffindor," Blaise greeted warmly, gesturing to a plush chair across from him. "Do come in. Make yourself comfortable."

Godric approached hesitantly, lowering himself into the chair as the old man gestured toward an intricately designed China teapot and teacup on the desk. "Please, help yourself to some tea," the headmaster offered with a small smile.

"Thank you, Headmaster," Godric said, pouring himself a cup. The tea was fragrant, its warmth settling his nerves as he took a sip.

Headmaster Blaise leaned back, his hands steepled under his chin. "So, how are you finding Avalon thus far?" His voice was gentle yet probing, and his eyes studied Godric with genuine interest.

The young man smiled, his face brightening. "It's… different, sir. Exciting, challenging—even overwhelming at times. Everything here feels so new. But…" His expression softened. "I do find myself missing home sometimes. Especially my uncle Gareth. I hope he's well."

The headmaster nodded understandingly, lifting his own teacup for a sip. "It must be a great adjustment, discovering your magical heritage and finding yourself in a world so unlike your own. I hope you harbor no resentment toward your uncle. He acted solely with your best interests in mind."

"Oh, no, sir," Godric said earnestly, shaking his head. "Not at all. In fact, I wouldn't change a thing."

Headmaster Blaise's smile widened. "Good, good. Your uncle is a brave and wise man, though perhaps overly cautious. Now," he continued, his tone lightening, "how are you finding your new companions? I hear the four of you have become quite the quartet as of late."

Godric's face lit up as he set his cup down. "Oh, they're brilliant, sir!" he exclaimed. "Rowena's the smartest person I've ever met—she seems to know everything. Helga's so kind and easy to talk to; she can make friends with anyone. And Salazar…" Godric hesitated, scratching the back of his neck.

Blaise raised a knowing eyebrow.

Godric sighed, chuckling nervously. "He's… complicated, sir. Brilliant, yes, but prickly as a Horklump."

The headmaster's hearty laugh filled the room. "Ah, young Slytherin," he said fondly. "A complicated lad indeed. Tell me, Godric, are you aware of his lineage?"

Godric blinked in surprise. "No, sir. He doesn't talk much about his family."

"Not surprising," Headmaster Blaise said, nodding thoughtfully as his expression turned somber. "Salazar comes from one of the four great wizarding houses of Northern Ireland—a lineage steeped in tradition, and one that carries the weight of immense expectations."

He paused, his gaze drifting briefly as if searching for the right words. "His father, Sigmund Slytherin, is a figure of considerable influence… and controversy." Headmaster Blaise's tone grew quieter, laden with meaning. "It is no small feat for a boy of his age to bear the weight of such a legacy. Navigating the shadow of a man like Sigmund requires strength—not just of magic, but of character."

The headmaster's words lingered in the air, and Godric felt their gravity. He frowned slightly as he thought back to Salazar's guarded demeanor, his sharp tongue, and the occasional flickers of vulnerability beneath his confident exterior.

"That… makes sense," he murmured. "He does carry himself like someone who has a lot on his shoulders."

"Salazar is a private soul, Godric," Headmaster Blaise said, leaning forward, his hazel eyes narrowing slightly with thought. "Cynical by nature and, dare I say, deeply mistrustful. It took Miss Ravenclaw and Miss Hufflepuff quite some time to breach those walls of his."

Godric nodded slowly. "He does have a way of keeping everyone at arm's length," he admitted.

"And yet," the headmaster continued, his voice softening, "it's truly remarkable that he's taken such a shine to you. Friendships like that, my boy, are rare treasures—far rarer than you might realize. Guard it well."

A warm smile spread across Godric's face as he straightened in his chair. "I will, sir," he promised, sincerity shining in his eyes. "Thank you for sharing this with me."

"Now then…" Headmaster Blaise said, shuffling through the neatly stacked papers on his desk as he adjusted his glasses. "To the reason I called you here. It seems your late start has left you rather behind in several subjects."

Godric's shoulders slumped, his face falling. "I've been trying to catch up, Professor. Truly, I have."

"Peace, lad." The headmaster raised a hand, his tone reassuring. "You're not in trouble. Quite the contrary—I'm pleased to inform you that your professors have volunteered to offer you private lessons outside of your regular classes."

Godric's eyes widened with surprise and then lit up with delight. "Really? That's… that's brilliant! Thank you, sir!"

"Don't thank me just yet," Headmaster Blaise said with a knowing smile. "Professor Lotho's additional History of Magic lessons might just make you reconsider your enthusiasm."

Godric groaned, slumping slightly in his chair. "Oh no, not more goblin rebellions…"

The headmaster chuckled as he rose from his chair. "Chin up, my boy. I hear Miss Ravenclaw is an excellent study partner. Now, off with you. I imagine your friends are waiting."

As Godric stepped out of the office, he was greeted by the sight of his three friends huddled together outside, their exaggerated attempts at eavesdropping immediately obvious.

"Well? Are you expelled?" Helga asked eagerly, her eyes wide with mischief. "Do we need the house-elf disguise? I've got my dirty old socks ready!"

Godric laughed, shaking his head. "No disguises needed, Helga. Just some extra lessons to catch up."

"Perfect!" Rowena said, clasping her hands together with approval. "We should form a study group. I've been meaning to review Ancient Runes anyway."

Salazar groaned, rolling his eyes. "Oh, splendid. More time buried in dusty old books when we could be practicing actual magic."

"Come on, Salazar." Godric clapped his hand on Salazar's shoulder with a grin. "It'll be fun. I'll even let you practice your hexes on me."

Helga bounced on her toes, her face alight with excitement. "Ooh, hexing practice! Can I join? I've been working on my Jelly-Legs Jinx!"

"Helga, please." Rowena sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Let's get to dinner before you all turn this corridor into a dueling club."