The Marauders: A Hogwarts Tale

Reluctantly, Godric and Raine made their way back to Excalibur Castle, their steps unhurried as though trying to hold onto the day for just a moment longer. Above them, the vast sky glittered with an ocean of stars, their brilliance softened by thin wisps of clouds drifting lazily across the heavens. The crescent moon hung low, casting a pale, silvery light over the landscape, illuminating their path with a quiet, ethereal glow.

Ahead, the grand silhouette of Excalibur Castle rose like a guardian of the night, its towers and battlements bathed in the soft radiance of moonlight. The castle's stained-glass windows glimmered faintly; their colors muted by the darkness. As the clock struck eight, its resonant chime echoed across the grounds, and the castle seemed to settle into an almost reverent stillness. Only a few students lingered in the dimly lit corridors, their laughter and quiet chatter fading as they trickled in from their own outings in town.

The towering wooden doors of the castle creaked faintly as Godric and Raine pushed them open, their hinges protesting softly against the silence. The sound echoed through the vast entrance hall, where shadows pooled in the high arches and along the intricate stonework. The flickering light of enchanted sconces cast elongated shapes across the walls, their golden glow providing a faint warmth against the cool stillness of the castle.

They came to a halt just shy of the grand staircase, the polished steps stretching upward like a path to the unknown. For a moment, they stood in companionable silence, the quiet hum of the castle surrounding them, as if the ancient stone walls themselves were listening.

"Godric, I… I can't thank you enough for today," Raine said softly, clutching his arm as her snowy white tail swished happily behind her. Her golden eyes sparkled with a warmth that matched the starlit sky. "It was magical. Truly magical. I'll cherish it forever."

Godric smiled, his expression tender. "Well, the day's not over just yet." He set his bag down on the polished stone floor, his crimson eyes glinting with excitement. "I've got one last surprise for you."

Raine tilted her head curiously, her ears twitching as she watched him reach into his bag. A moment later, he pulled out a beautifully bound book from before. He held it out to her with a flourish, his grin wide and boyish.

"Is… is this for me?" Raine gasped, her golden eyes widening in disbelief as her hands gently took the book from him. Her ears perked up, her tail wagging furiously behind her. "Oh, Godric, it's beautiful!"

"I thought it might help with your reading," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, a faint blush creeping across his cheeks. "And, well… the stories seem like something you'd enjoy."

Raine's fingers ran over the intricate cover as if it were the most precious thing she'd ever held. Her lips parted as if to respond, but before she could speak, the air around them was shattered by an angry bellow echoing through the cavernous entrance hall.

"There you are, you goddamned pelt!"

The furious voice ricocheted off the stone walls, its sharp edge cutting through the stillness and making both Godric and Raine flinch. Godric's crimson eyes darted toward the source of the commotion, narrowing as they locked onto Peter Creedy, the castle's caretaker. The man was storming toward them with the fury of a brewing tempest, his flushed face an angry, mottled red. Each of his heavy steps echoed ominously, like the distant rumble of thunder growing closer with every beat.

Godric's expression hardened, his jaw tightening as anger flashed across his face, restrained but unmistakable. His fingers twitched at his sides, the compulsion to reach for the hilt of his sword steadily overpowering the reins of reason. The familiar weight of the weapon on his back suddenly felt heavier, as if beckoning him to act.

"Where in bloody hell have you been all day?!" Creedy snarled as he glared at Raine.

Her wolfen ears flattened against her head, her entire body trembling with fear. She instinctively shrank back, clutching the book to her chest. Godric, however, straightened, his jaw tightening as he stepped in front of her, shielding her from Creedy's rage.

"Mister Creedy," Godric said evenly, "we were both running an errand for Professor Nogram." He reached into his pocket, producing a neatly folded piece of parchment. "And I have the permit right here—"

He slapped the paper from Godric's hand with a sharp, dismissive gesture. "I don't give a rat's ass about your permit, boy!" Creedy spat. His eyes then locked onto the book in Raine's trembling arms, his expression twisting with disgust. "And what's that filthy creature holding?!"

Creedy lunged forward, snatching the book from Raine's arms with a vicious yank that nearly tore the cover.

"No, please, give it back!" Raine cried out, her golden eyes wide with panic as she reached out desperately. "It's mine!"

Without warning, Creedy backhanded her hard across the face, the force of the blow sending her sprawling to the cold stone floor. "How dare you talk back to me, you worthless mongrel!" he bellowed.

"Creedy, you son of a whore!"

In an instant, Godric's sword was out, the steel gleaming coldly in the dim light as he brandished it with both hands. The blade's tip pressed firmly against Creedy's throat, so close it nicked the skin. Godric's crimson eyes burned with fury, his chest heaving as he snarled, pure rage radiating from him.

"You're a dead man!"

Creedy froze, sweat breaking out across his face as his gaze flickered to the runed blade hovering dangerously close to his Adam's apple. Despite his fear, he forced a smirk, though it wavered with his trembling voice. "Oh, you're in trouble now, boy," he spat, his bravado faltering. "P-pulling a sword on a member of the faculty? They'll most definitely have your wand for this."

Godric's grip tightened around the hilt of his sword, his knuckles turning white as his entire body trembled with barely contained fury. His voice, low and venomous, sliced through the air like a blade, each word a razor-sharp promise of retribution.

"Not before I turn your damned skull into a bloody piss pot, Creedy," he growled, his crimson eyes blazing with a fierce, unrelenting fire.

The sword's tip inched closer to the caretaker's throat, the gleaming steel catching the flickering light of the sconces, casting a cold, merciless glint. "You'll never touch her again, you hear me?" His words were a command, not a plea. "Not now, not ever!"

The raw ferocity in his stance and the unwavering resolve in his gaze made it clear—this wasn't an idle threat. This was a promise etched in steel, one Creedy would be wise not to test.

The man's smirk faltered entirely as the blade bit into his skin. Raine, still on the floor, pressed her hand to her cheek, her golden eyes brimming with tears as she looked up at Godric. Her heart raced, not out of fear for Creedy, but at the sight of Godric standing like a shield between her and the man who'd hurt her. The tension crackled like a storm about to break, and for a moment, it seemed as though the world itself held its breath.

****

"What in the name of Gil-galad is going on here?"

The booming voice of Professor Workner shattered the tension like a crack of thunder. Striding toward the group with authority, his piercing gaze swept over the scene—the sword in Godric's hand, Raine on the floor clutching her cheek, and the book in Creedy's grasp. "Godric, lower your sword this instant!"

Godric hesitated, his crimson eyes darting between Creedy and the professor. Reluctantly, he complied, lowering the blade but keeping his stance defensive. "Professor, he struck Raine!" Godric said. "I couldn't just stand by—"

"You can't protect him now, Workner," Creedy interrupted, straightening his disheveled jacket and sneering triumphantly. "The boy threatened me with bodily harm. And worse," he continued, holding up the book as though it were incriminating evidence, "he's been teaching this slave to read, which, as you well know, is a direct violation of the Slavery Laws!"

Workner's eyes narrowed, his sharp gaze fixing on Creedy, whose face twisted into a malicious grin.

"Oh, I'll see to it personally that he's expelled and arrested!" Creedy spat, jabbing a finger at Godric with relish. "I'm going to enjoy watching them haul you off to Revel's End in chains, boy!"

"Is that so, Creedy?" Workner replied coolly, raising an eyebrow as his tone remained steady. "Then perhaps, when you speak to Headmaster Blaise, you'd also like to explain how and why you intentionally ignored the permit I issued for them to complete today's errand."

Creedy's grin faltered, the color draining from his face as the words sank in. He took a hesitant step back, but Workner advanced, his composure unshaken.

"Or perhaps," Workner began, his tone cool and sharp, "you've suffered some unforeseen mishap that erased your memory, as I quite clearly recall discussing this matter with you." His piercing gaze locked onto Creedy, unyielding and deliberate.

"So," he continued, "either you're currently nursing a terrible head injury, or"—he took another slow step forward, the weight of his words heavy and biting— "you regard me with such blatant disrespect that my presence and authority registers as little more than a joke to you."

The pause that followed was suffocating, the air around them thick with unspoken tension. Workner's grey eyes gleamed with quiet authority, daring Creedy to contradict him.

"And let us not forget," Workner continued, "the headmaster's final warning about your treatment of the slaves." Each deliberate word striking with the weight of a hammer.

"You've been excused time and again for your deplorable conduct," he said, his tone cold and unyielding. "Not out of merit, but out of pity—granted solely because of your long-standing service and your status as a former alumnus of Excalibur Academy. But you've clearly exhausted the headmaster's patience."

The professor gaze narrowed further. "And, Creedy, you've long since exhausted mine."

Workner's tone shifted, becoming colder, more personal, as if laden with a deep-seated disdain. "But by all means, if you're bent on pressing charges against Mister Gryffindor, I invite you to do so. Just know that you'll likely find yourself out on the streets, disgraced and relieved of your duties, long before he faces any punishment."

"Now, see here, Workner!" Creedy spluttered, sweat beading on his forehead as he tried to recover his footing. "You can't just—"

"The book, Creedy," Workner cut him off sharply, holding out his hand with an air of finality. His steel-grey eyes locked onto Creedy's with unrelenting intensity. "Now."

Creedy froze, his hand clutching the book tightly. For a moment, it seemed as though he might protest further, but the weight of Workner's authority bore down on him like an immovable force. Reluctantly, with trembling fingers, he placed the book into the professor's outstretched hand, his jaw clenching in frustration.

Workner turned to Raine, extending a hand toward her, his movements deliberate and reassuring. She hesitated for a moment, her golden eyes shimmering with uncertainty, before placing her delicate hand in his. Her fingers were cold, trembling faintly as he helped her to her feet with practiced ease.

As she stood, he crouched slightly to meet her at eye level, his expression softening. In his other hand, he held out the book. "I believe this belongs to you, my dear," he said. A small, understanding smile curved his lips. "A fine choice of literature, if I may say so."

Godric stepped closer, his crimson eyes filled with concern as he reached out to gently touch her cheek where Creedy had struck her. "Raine, are you alright?" he asked softly. "We should get you to Doctor Adani."

Raine nodded faintly, her white hair brushing against her face as she leaned slightly into his touch, though her hands never left the book.

Behind them, Creedy's sneer twisted into something more venomous, his lip curling as his spiteful gaze fixed on Workner.

"You've always been a bleeding heart, Workner." The bitterness in his tone carrying the weight of years of resentment. "Even back when we were students. Always were, always will be." He paused, his sneer deepening as he delivered his final barb. "Just like with Amelia."

Workner's head snapped toward Creedy with the precision of a striking predator. The room seemed to grow colder; the air heavy with unspoken fury. His once-calm demeanor shifted into something sharp and terrifying. The flash of murderous intent in his gaze was enough to make even Creedy falter.

"For both our sakes, Creedy," Workner said, each syllable a blade cutting through the tension, "I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that." His words were measured, heavy, and dripping with an unspoken promise of retribution.

"But let me offer you a piece of propitious advice," he continued. "Keep that name out of your filthy mouth. Especially around Serfence." His voice dipped into a near growl. "Because, believe me, he won't be as forgiving as I."

As Workner leaned in, the flickering torchlight danced across his face, casting angular shadows that sharpened his features into something almost unearthly.

"And a man as perceptive as you," he began, "is surely aware of what they call Serfence and I beyond these hallowed walls." The faintest sneer touched his lips.

"Titles we've earned—not simply through mere deeds, but valiant triumphs and unspoken atrocities that reverberate through every corner of Avalon. Names that make even the most steadfast hearts falter, their courage crumbling to ash at the mere whisper."

He straightened slowly, his movements precise and controlled. His expression remained unreadable, but his eyes burned with an intensity that froze Creedy in place. 

"Do not test us enough to remind you why," Workner said.

The words hung in the air like a curse, their weight unrelenting as Workner's unwavering gaze bore into Creedy, stripping away whatever shred of bravado the man had left. Creedy's sneer faltered into a thin line as he took a step back. The shift in his demeanor was almost imperceptible, but the bead of sweat rolling down his temple betrayed his unease.

Godric swallowed hard; his throat dry as the weight of the moment pressed down on him. He had never seen this side of Professor Workner before. Gone was the composed and approachable mentor; in his place stood a figure exuding an aura of something dark—something treacherous and terrifying.

His grip on the hilt of his sword tightened instinctively, but his weapon, his trusted companion, felt oddly insignificant in this moment. It trembled faintly in his grasp, as though even it sensed the magnitude of what stood before him. With Creedy, Godric had been ready and able—his fury a sharpened blade—but this... this was different. Workner's presence alone was enough to send a chill down his spine, a primal warning whispering to his very soul.

Godric's mind drifted back to Quibble Scroll's words, the echo of that name lingering ominously in his thoughts: Workner the Annihilator. The title carried a weight, a history shrouded in mystery and fear, and now he understood why. Whatever lay beneath the surface of the professor's measured demeanor was no mere rumor—it was real, and it was standing right in front of him.

Creedy scoffed weakly, trying to recover what remains of his bravado, and shifted his focus to Godric instead. "Don't think this is over, boy," he growled. "Mark my words—you'll rue the day you decided to cross me."

Then, his glare turned to Raine, his lip curling in a sneer. "You and that mangy mutt."

With that, he spun on his heel and stormed off, his footsteps echoing down the corridor as the oppressive tension in the room slowly began to lift.

Godric exhaled sharply, his jaw tight, his hand still resting lightly on Raine's cheek as he watched the man disappear into the shadows. "Coward," he muttered under his breath, his fingers twitching slightly as though resisting the urge to go after him.

****

Workner placed a firm hand on Godric's shoulder, his gaze fixed on Creedy's retreating figure. His grip was steady as he said, "You're a brave one, lad. The colors of Ignis suit you well." He shrugged lightly, though his tone carried a weight of caution. "But bravery alone won't shield you. You must tread carefully. The path you've chosen is fraught with danger. The world is bound by laws as unyielding as iron, even when those laws feel unjust."

Godric turned to meet the professor's gaze, his crimson eyes burning with quiet resolve. "I understand, Professor," he said firmly. "But I can't just stand by and watch this injustice. There has to be a way to change things—to make it right."

Workner's expression softened, and he gave Godric's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I know that fire well. Once upon a time, I, too, wore the Ignis flames, just as you do now." His lips curved into a faint, wistful smile.

"By the way, Professor," Godric began cautiously, "it sounded like you and Creedy have some history. I take it you weren't exactly friends back when you were students here?"

Workner's expression shifted, the faintest trace of a shadow passing over his features. For a moment, he seemed to retreat into himself, his grey eyes clouding with a mix of sorrow and regret. "How perceptive of you," he said quietly. "But that's not entirely true."

He paused; his gaze distant as if revisiting a memory long buried. "We… were friends," he admitted. "Me, Serfence, Creedy, and…" His voice faltered, the name lingering unspoken, as though the weight of it was too much to bear. "We met as First Years, and for a time, we were near inseparable. A real band of misfits, thick as thieves."

Godric leaned forward slightly, listening intently.

"But things change," Workner continued, his tone heavy with resignation. "Creedy joined a Clan, one with ties to… darker influences. He fell in with terrible individuals, and over time, he started to change. He began harboring prejudices that weren't there before, adopting ideals that twisted him into someone none of us recognized. That's when the cracks began to form. We started drifting apart."

Workner's gaze grew sharper, tinged with disappointment. "Despite his talents and undeniable academic excellence, he earned a rather sordid reputation among our fellow students. The nickname he was given wasn't just a taunt; it was a warning. A mark of the kind of man he was becoming, not the one he used to be."

Godric stayed silent, his crimson eyes steady, sensing the weight of the story yet to come.

"After the incident…" Workner's voice dropped, thick with pain, "and after graduation, we went our separate ways. I didn't see Creedy for years. When I returned to Excalibur as a professor, I learned he had become the Caretaker. By then…"

He shrugged, his lips tightening into a thin line. "We were strangers. Whatever he is now, whoever he has become, he is not the Peter Creedy I once called my friend. I mourn the man he was. The one I thought I knew. It breaks my heart to see what's left of him… Truly."

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of Workner's words pressing down like a stone. Then, with a weary sigh, he straightened, his expression shifting back to its usual calm. "But enough about that," he said, his voice lighter, though the sadness still lingered faintly at the edges. "For tonight, let's let the embers rest. It's been an emotional day for all of us."

Godric nodded, sensing that the conversation had touched on something deeply personal. "Of course, Professor," he said softly, his respect evident in his tone. "Thank you for sharing."

He shifted his gaze to Raine, his tone growing gentler. "Why don't you retire to your dorm, Godric? I'll take Raine to the Hospital Wing."

Godric hesitated but finally nodded, sheathing his longsword in a single, practiced motion. "Thank you, Professor," he said. "I appreciate your help more than I can say." He paused, his eyes widening. "Oh, I nearly forgot!"

Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a carefully wrapped package and handed it to Workner. "Your order—Quibble sends his regards."

Workner chuckled, taking the package with a knowing grin. "Ah, Quibble. Always griping, but he delivers in the end. Thanks, lad."

Godric smiled warmly. "No, thank you, Professor. You helped me give Raine a day she'll never forget." He glanced at her, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "And… well… it meant a lot to me, too."

Raine stepped forward, clutching the book close to her chest. Her golden eyes shimmered with gratitude, but there was something deeper in her gaze—something that made her heart race. She hesitated only briefly before leaning in, her lips brushing softly against Godric's in a tender kiss.

The moment lingered, and when she pulled back, a delicate blush coloured her cheeks. Workner's eyes widened slightly at the unexpected display, though he said nothing.

"Good night, Godric," Raine said softly. "Sweet dreams… my darling."

Workner chuckled, a knowing twinkle in his eye as he observed the scene with a mix of amusement and nostalgia. "Ah, to be young and in love again," he said whimsically. "Come along, Raine. Let's get that cheek looked at, and after, I'll make sure you're safely back in your quarters."

Raine hesitated for a moment, glancing back at Godric with a small, tender smile. Their eyes met, and though no words passed between them, the warmth of the connection lingered. With a quiet nod, she turned and followed the professor down the dimly lit hallway, her snowy white tail swishing faintly behind her.

Godric remained where he stood, the echoes of their footsteps fading into the stillness of the corridor. Slowly, he raised a hand to his lips, his fingers brushing against them as if to hold onto the moment just a little longer. A soft smile spread across his face, his crimson eyes glimmering with quiet joy.

"Sweet dreams… my love," he murmured.

For the first time in a long while, the world felt just a little brighter.