The Marauders: A Hogwarts Tale

"All right, all right," Godric said with a chuckle. "Enough gawking at the fancy table. Weren't you lot about to show me around this labyrinth you call a school?"

Helga's face lit up, and she clapped her hands enthusiastically. "Oh, absolutely! Lucky for you, I know every nook, cranny, and secret passage in this place!"

With the Great Hall gradually emptying as students headed toward their dorms, the group began their tour. The echo of their footsteps accompanied them as they wove through winding stone hallways, ascending staircases, and navigating long corridors.

Rowena couldn't resist providing a running commentary. "Notice the intricate carvings on the columns and ceilings—distinctly elvish, likely inspired by the kingdom of Lothlórien. And the flooring? Dwarven craftsmanship. Most of the stone was transported all the way from the Iron Hills, an impressive feat given the distance."

Godric's eyes scanned the hallways, taking in the portraits, tapestries, and ornate cabinets lining the walls. Each seemed to whisper a story of Excalibur's storied past, celebrating triumphs and deeds long since etched into legend.

Helga pointed out an arched doorway leading to a glass-domed structure beyond. "That's the orangery, where we have Herbology classes. And those stairs over there? They lead to the library—Rowena's second home, really."

Rowena crossed her arms with a dignified huff. "It's not my fault the rest of you don't appreciate the wealth of knowledge right at our fingertips."

Salazar smirked, gesturing toward a corridor that stretched north. "And over there are the Ferrum dorms. Nestled behind fortified walls of steel—fitting, wouldn't you say? Ambition thrives in such a sturdy refuge."

Rowena tilted her head upward with a proud smile. "Ventus, naturally, resides in the castle's highest tower. The view from the peak is breathtaking."

Helga stomped her foot playfully against the stone floor. "And us Terra folk? Our dorms are right beneath your feet, nestled in the warm and welcoming caverns below."

"And Ignis must be…" Godric turned his gaze westward, looking out through a grand arched window toward a tall, imposing structure connected to the castle by a stone bridge. "In that tower over there?"

Salazar nodded. "Quite right, my fiery friend. Conveniently situated with a fine view of the lake, wouldn't you agree?"

Godric's gaze lingered on the shimmering expanse of water behind the Ignis tower, its surface rippling under the moonlight.

"That's Cardigan Lake," Salazar said, following Godric's line of sight. His tone took on a theatrical edge as he gestured grandly toward the vast waters. "And beneath its depths, you'll find the Aecor dorms. A marvel, really—unless, of course, you're carrying something as impractical as, say, a sword."

A sly grin curled on his lips as he added, "Fortunately for you, luck seems to be your ever-faithful companion."

Godric's eyebrows shot up. "Wait… their dorms are actually underwater?"

"Indeed," Salazar replied with a chuckle. "It's said their quarters are as vast as the lake itself, filled with shimmering aquatic magic. Of course, sunlight's a rare visitor down there. No wonder the Aecor lot are so... moody."

Helga grinned mischievously. "Bet they've got fish for roommates!"

Godric shook his head in amazement. "This place just keeps getting stranger."

Salazar's smirk deepened as he clapped a hand on Godric's shoulder. "Oh, my dear Gryffindor, you've barely scratched the surface."

"Tell me about it, I—" Godric began, turning abruptly, only to collide with someone. The impact made him stagger back. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I wasn't looking where I was—"

His words faltered as his eyes met the girl before him. She was about his age, but there was something haunting about her appearance. Her long white hair cascaded down to her knees, wild and unkempt. Her clothes—if they could even be called that—were little more than tattered rags in shades of white and black, barely covering her thin frame.

What struck him most, however, were her wolf-like features seamlessly blending with her human form. Snow-white ears, furred and delicate, twitched nervously atop her head, betraying her fear. Behind her, a long, equally pristine tail curled low, almost brushing the ground in a display of submission. Her luminous amber eyes, wide and trembling, flickered downward, avoiding his gaze as she shrank into herself, cowering like a cornered animal

"Forgive me… y-young master," she stammered, her voice trembling as though each word pained her. Her body seemed tense, bracing for a blow that never came. "It won't happen again."

Godric's breath caught as his gaze dropped to the black metallic collar around her neck, engraved with glowing, unfamiliar runes. The faint luminescence only served to make the cruel device look even more sinister. Before he could speak, the girl scurried away, disappearing into the shadows around the corner.

"Was that…" Godric turned to his friends, his voice low, trembling with disbelief. "Was she… is she… a… a slave?"

The somber looks exchanged between his companions confirmed his worst fears.

Salazar, always the first to break the silence, nodded grimly. "Welcome to the darker side of Avalon, my friend," he said, his tone heavy with resignation. "Unlike the so-called 'enlightened' shores of England, slavery isn't just tolerated here—it's ingrained in every faucet of Avalon society."

"But that's…" Godric's fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles turning white. "That's wrong! We can't just stand by and—"

Rowena gently touched his arm, her face conflicted. "I understand your feelings, Godric," she said softly, but her voice carried a warning edge. "But what you just saw? It's common here, no matter how much we wish it wasn't."

"It's awful, isn't it?" Helga looked down, uncharacteristically quiet, wringing her hands. "There are laws, powerful families, centuries of history backing it all," she murmured. "It's not something that changes overnight. Or… maybe ever."

"But that doesn't mean it's right!" Godric's voice rose, his fiery nature spilling out. "No one deserves to be treated like that—like they're less than human!"

Salazar crossed his arms, his green eyes narrowing slightly. "Mind yourself, Gryffindor. You're not in the boonies anymore. Speaking out like that, especially so soon, could make you enemies you're not prepared to face."

Rowena's expression softened, but her tone remained firm. "Salazar is right," she said, her voice steady but tinged with concern. "There's much about this world you still don't understand. Your intentions are noble, Godric, but we are students first. Change, if it's to come, requires time, patience, and wisdom."

Godric exhaled deeply, steadying himself. "You're right," he admitted. "I let my emotions get ahead of me." He paused, then glanced at his friends. "Do any of you… know her name? The slave girl I bumped into?"

Helga nodded solemnly. "I've heard the other slaves call her Raine. She works in the kitchens."

Salazar rolled his eyes, his tone teasing. "With how much time you spend raiding the pantry, Helga, I'd imagine you know all of them by name."

"Hey!" Helga retorted, rubbing the back of her head sheepishly. "A girl's gotta eat, and midnight snacks don't fetch themselves, you know!"

"Raine…" Godric repeated softly, the name settling in his mind like a promise. His gaze turned distant for a moment, then sharpened with determination. "I swear, someday, things will be different. They have to be."

Salazar chuckled, his smirk tinged with both amusement and intrigue. "Well, well. First you set your sights on the Visionaries, and now you're vowing to dismantle centuries-old systems of oppression? You certainly don't lack for ambition, do you Gryffindor?"

"Oh, come on, you two!" Helga interjected, her voice light and cheerful, trying to break the tension. "Let's not get bogged down with heavy topics. Besides, we still have the main courtyard to show Godric!"

The four friends exchanged glances before continuing their tour, but even as they moved on, the name Raine lingered in Godric's thoughts—a quiet reminder of the path he felt compelled to forge, no matter the challenges ahead.

As they passed through the large wooden doors leading to the courtyard, Godric was greeted by the cool night breeze on his face. The air carried the crisp, rustic scent of nature, mingling the aromas of the nearby forest and lake. The courtyard unfolded before them—a vast open space framed by well-trimmed hedges and cobblestone paths. Open-air stone hallways encircled the area, their arches catching the silver glow of the moonlight. Beyond the courtyard walls, the dense forest stretched endlessly, the trees illuminated softly under the starlit sky.

"This is where we typically conduct our outdoor lessons," Rowena began, gesturing to the vibrant flora scattered throughout the courtyard. "The plants here are fascinating, actually—some of them have properties you wouldn't believe, like-"

A sudden, piercing cry of pain cut through the tranquil night, abruptly silencing her.

Godric's head snapped toward the source of the sound. "What in blazes was that?" Without waiting for a response, he bolted in the direction of the noise, his friends scrambling to follow.

Turning a corner, Godric's gaze locked onto a scene that made his blood boil. A familiar figure was crumpled on the cobblestones—Raine, the slave girl he'd seen earlier. She was curled into a defensive ball, clutching her face. Her tail was tucked tightly between her legs, and her soft whimpering carried an air of desperation.

Towering over her was a boy, younger than Godric but no less imposing in his stance. His dirty blonde hair was meticulously groomed, and his robes bore the proud blue-and-silver colors of Aecor. Around his waist and shoulders were ornate sashes and belts, clearly of foreign make and excessive luxury. His baby blue eyes blazed with disdain as he sneered down at the girl.

"That'll teach you to watch where you're going, you filthy animal!" he spat, his voice sharp and venomous.

Godric froze for a moment, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. He was about to step forward when Salazar's hand firmly gripped his shoulder, holding him in place.

"Easy now," Salazar said, his voice low and measured, though his sharp green eyes gleamed with warning. "That's Volg Dryfus. His family doesn't just dabble in the slave trade—they own half of it. Cross him, and you'll be swimming in far deeper waters than you realize."

Godric turned to Salazar, his expression a mixture of frustration and fury. "I don't care if his family owns half the damned kingdom," he said through gritted teeth, shaking off Salazar's hand. His voice rose with conviction as his eyes locked back onto Volg. "Someone's going to have to teach that brat some manners."

Salazar sighed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips despite himself. "Well, this should be interesting," he muttered, stepping back to watch.