The Marauders: A Hogwarts Tale

The carriage bumped gently along the cobblestone road, the rhythmic rattling blending with Godric's lively storytelling. His companions leaned in, captivated by his tale.

"It was a Hungarian Horntail," Godric began, his voice laced with excitement, "but just a youngling. It came out of nowhere, tearing through my neighbor's chickens like they were nothing before barreling into my uncle's prized cabbages."

Salazar arched a skeptical eyebrow, folding his arms. "A Horntail? In England?" he asked, his tone dubious. "Highly unlikely. Hungarian Horntails rarely stray that far west. Perhaps you're mistaken."

"I swear on Charlemagne's Throne, Salazar!" Godric shot back, his crimson eyes narrowing. "I might not know much about magic or Avalon, but I know a Horntail when I see one. Besides, it's not the first time we've had dragons in my town."

Rowena tilted her head thoughtfully. "While rare, there have been instances of dragons appearing in places outside of their natural habitat," she said. "Uncommon, but not entirely impossible."

Godric nodded, pressing on. "Anyway, it was headed straight for the sheep when my Uncle Gareth stepped in. He told everyone to find shelter and ordered the guards to seal off the area."

The air in the carriage grew tense, the story pulling his friends deeper into its folds.

"Oh, oh, and then?" Helga prompted, practically bouncing in her seat with anticipation.

Godric's voice dropped a notch, his tone grave. "Uncle Gareth… he faced that beast with nothing but his sword and his wits. But dragon scales—they're tougher than dwarven-forged steel."

Rowena's sapphire eyes widened, her hand flying to her mouth. "Godric… surely he didn't…"

"No, thank the stars," Godric said quickly, shaking his head. "He fought valiantly, but the dragon's tail caught him, sent him crashing through our cottage wall. For a moment, I thought…" His voice faltered, a somber note taking hold. "I thought I'd lost him."

A heavy silence settled over the group, broken only by the muffled sounds of the bustling streets outside the carriage.

"And then?" Salazar asked, leaning forward, his emerald eyes gleaming with interest.

"I… I don't know how I did it," Godric admitted, staring down at his hands as though they held the answer. "One moment, I was running to Uncle Gareth's side, and the next, magic just burst out of me." His voice grew stronger, a spark of wonder returning. "Sent that dragon packing!"

"By the Old Gods!" Helga exclaimed; her amber eyes wide. "Just like that?"

"Just like that," Godric affirmed with a grin. "And wouldn't you know it? Headmaster Blaise was passing through at that very moment. Saw the whole thing, he did."

"Well, the headmaster does have an uncanny knack for being in the right place at the right time," Rowena mused, tapping her chin thoughtfully.

Godric's hand rested on the hilt of his sword, which leaned against the seat beside him. "After the incident, the headmaster invited me to Excalibur," he began. "At first, I didn't want to go. Leaving the moors behind... leaving my uncle... it felt wrong."

The others watched him intently, the hum of the carriage filling the brief silence.

"But Uncle Gareth insisted," Godric continued, a faint smile softening his features. "He said it was an opportunity I couldn't afford to pass up. Still, he asked for a year—to set things in order, as he put it. When the time finally came, he handed me this sword." Godric's voice dipped, a flicker of emotion breaking through. "He told me how proud he was… and how my parents would have been proud too."

Salazar raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking between Godric and the blade. "Interesting. Didn't you say your uncle was mundane-born? I assumed you were the same."

"Oh, right." Godric rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Turns out I'm half-blood. I had no idea my dad was a wizard until recently. My parents passed when I was just a child. Uncle Gareth took me in and raised me as his own."

"So... does this mean you've never had any experience with magic?" Rowena asked, her brow furrowed in genuine curiosity.

Godric shook his head. "All my life, I thought I was just another mundane. Magic was something I saw from time to time, mostly when travelers passed through my town. Not to mention, they would occasionally speak of a mystical place called Avalon. I never thought it had anything to do with me."

"Hmmm... curious," Salazar mused, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Isn't it strange that your uncle would keep something as important as that from you?"

Godric paused, his expression shifting for a moment as he considered Salazar's words. "Now that you mention it... it does seem a bit odd."

Helga quickly chimed in, a playful grin on her face. "Oh, don't be so hard on him, Salazar! I'm sure your Uncle Gareth had his reasons." Her tone softened, becoming more reflective. "And believe me, I know what it's like to grow up feeling different."

The carriage began to slow, the rhythmic bump of the wheels fading into a gentle roll. Ahead, the grand gates of Excalibur Academy loomed, towering high with alabaster spires that seemed to pierce the sky. Godric's breath caught in his throat, utterly captivated by the sheer scale of the structure. It was far more impressive up close.

The carriages pulled into a vast courtyard, the ground paved with smooth red bricks and bordered by meticulously tended gardens of neatly trimmed hedges. One by one, students disembarked, unloading their trunks and bags with a flurry of activity. The air buzzed with chatter and excited voices, all eager for the year ahead. The academy, with its towering spires and bustling energy, felt both overwhelming and exhilarating— Godric's heart quickened in anticipation.

"Look, we're here!" Helga exclaimed, leaning eagerly toward the window. "Oh, Godric, you're going to love it!"

Salazar smirked, crossing his arms with a knowing look. "Well, let's hope you can handle more than runaway dragons, Gryffindor." He gave a casual wave and opened the carriage door, stepping out with the rest of them following suit.

Godric stepped out, his sword slung over his back, eyes wide as he took in the sprawling sight around him.

"Blimey, I've never seen anything like this!" he exclaimed, his voice full of awe.

Salazar shot him an exasperated glance. "Try to refrain from gawking, Gryffindor," he said, unbuckling his luggage as the academy staff hurried to unload it. "It's most unbecoming."

Godric realized his mouth had been hanging open. He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Hey, can you blame a guy?"

Rowena, stepping up beside him, smiled at his reaction. "Impressive, isn't it?" she said. "The founders combined advanced Elven architecture with Dwarven techniques when building Castle Excalibur. It houses over a thousand students, with hundreds more in staff and faculty." She paused, her eyes scanning the towering walls and intricate details of the castle. "It's practically a city unto itself."

Godric's eyes widened even further as he took in the sheer scale of it. "You don't say? This place is massive!"

"Ooh, wait 'til you see the Great Hall—and the kitchens!" Helga said, her grin widening as she practically bounced on her feet. "I can almost smell the roast from here!" She added with a gleam in her eye, a trickle of drool escaping the corner of her lips.

Salazar rolled his eyes but couldn't hide a slight smirk. "Well, let's not keep the Professors waiting," he said, giving them a subtle nudge toward the entrance.

The four friends made their way through the massive front doors, which were made of polished redwood encased in sturdy iron frames. As the doors swung open, they creaked loudly in protest, echoing down the grand, stony hallway. An ocean of students flowed in like a tide, all making their way toward the Great Hall, their chatter filling the air.

Godric's gaze wandered, his eyes darting from the dusty, weathered stone walls to the countless portraits and tapestries that adorned the halls. Suits of armor stood like silent sentinels beside towering cabinets of glass, displaying ancient artifacts, trophies, and awards that had accumulated over centuries. The castle's interior felt like a living museum, brimming with history and stories waiting to be discovered.

The reality of the moment began to settle in, slowly but surely. Godric's lips curled into a smile, a warmth spreading through his chest, fueled by a mix of excitement and awe. His hand instinctively gripped the strap of the belt that held the scabbard of his sword, the weight of it a comforting reminder of the journey ahead. Every step he took through the grand halls of Excalibur Academy seemed to pulse with promise, and he couldn't help but feel that this was just the beginning of a grand adventure—one that would shape his destiny in ways he could only begin to imagine.