The Marauders: A Hogwarts Tale

Sword and spear clashed with deafening intensity; each strike a blur of movement so fast it seemed like flashes of lightning slicing through the air. Sparks erupted with every collision, cascading like miniature fireworks. Shockwaves rippled outward, cracking the cobblestones beneath their feet and sending bursts of dust and debris into the air. The force of each blow resonated through the courtyard, vibrating the very walls of Excalibur Castle.

Godric and Cú moved like whirlwinds, darting around the courtyard in a frenzied dance of combat. Each step was precise yet blindingly fast, their forms a blur as they ducked, weaved, and countered each other with ferocious skill. Their weapons created afterimages, ghostly trails of steel and crimson that lingered momentarily in the air before vanishing. The watching students stood frozen, their eyes wide and mouths agape at the spectacle unfolding before them—an awe-inspiring display of raw power and unmatched precision.

"By Fornac's gummy gumdrops, I can barely see them move!" Helga exclaimed

Rowena, her usually composed demeanor cracking, couldn't tear her gaze away from the battle. Her hand clutched her wand tightly, knuckles white. "So, this is Vis Vitalis," she murmured, the awe in her voice barely concealing the worry in her chest. "It's… it's incredible."

Salazar, standing rigid, clenched his fists. His sharp eyes tracked Godric's every move. "Gryffindor…" he muttered through gritted teeth. "Argus was one thing, but picking a fight with the Hound of Cu himself... that's a different beast entirely."

In the arena-like courtyard, the tension crackled like a live wire. Godric's sword flared with the electric glow of his power, the jagged circuits on his arms and face pulsating brighter with every attack. Cú's spear matched his ferocity, its crimson metal glinting in the light as it whirled and thrust with deadly precision.

"You're holding back, Gryffindor!" Cú snarled with a wild edge of exhilaration as his spear deflected yet another swing of Godric's sword. "Show me the fire you had in the arena!"

"You want fire?" Godric growled, his crimson eyes blazing as he stepped forward, his blade catching the light like a burning flame. "Then you'd better be ready to burn!"

The two combatants clashed again. The the watching crowd gasped as the battle reached an intensity unlike anything they had ever witnessed.

Godric's blade whirled in his grip, each rotation a blur of silver, deflecting every thrust of Cú's spear with the precision and force of a cyclone. Sparks flew with each collision. Cú lunged forward with a fierce cry; his spear thrust like a striking viper. Godric sidestepped gracefully, twisting his blade in a fluid upward arc that deflected the attack with a loud clang.

Seizing the opportunity, Godric surged forward, his crimson eyes blazing with determination. He shouted, pivoting on his heel. His blade came down in a sweeping arc, the power behind it unmistakable.

Cú's eyes widened as he barely raised his spear in time to intercept the blow. The impact was like a thunderclap as the force hurled Cú backward, his body colliding with the stone fountain behind him. The ancient structure groaned under the impact, cracks webbing out from where he struck. With a resounding crash, the fountain splintered, water bursting from the fractured base like a geyser. A torrent cascaded onto the courtyard, drenching the grass and cobblestones.

Cú staggered to his feet, water streaming from his drenched robes. His hand trembled as it wiped the blood from his split lip, but his eyes—wild and alight with fervor—never wavered from Godric. A twisted grin spread across his face, equal parts admiration and menace.

"Amazing…" he muttered. "I didn't think I'd find anyone like you here in this wretched place. I'm sorry, Údar…" His grip tightened on his spear, the crimson glow intensifying. "Looks like I won't be able to keep my promise after all."

Helga clutched her wand tightly as she turned to Salazar. "I've got a bad feeling about this," she said. "That look in his eyes—it's not right."

Salazar's normally composed expression faltered. His emerald eyes widened, a flicker of alarm breaking through his calm exterior. His gaze locked on the crimson spear, which had begun to pulsate, the sinister glow coiling like living flames along its length. "No… he wouldn't dare…" Salazar whispered; his tone edged with dread. "That's forbidden magic. If he uses that here—"

Cú shifted his stance, his movements deliberate and measured, each breath slow and purposeful. The ground beneath his feet scorched as the crimson flames at the tip of his spear erupted into a roaring inferno, the glow casting shadows that danced wildly on the courtyard walls. The oppressive heat rolled out in waves, making the air heavy and thick with danger.

"You've earned my respect, Gryffindor. I acknowledge your strength." His voice carried a dangerous edge, filled with both admiration and lethal intent. "You've pushed me further than anyone has in years. But strength alone isn't enough." His grin widened, his eyes gleaming with a mix of exhilaration and madness. "Now, let's see if you can handle the real me."

Godric's grip tightened on his sword, the circuits on his skin glowing brighter in response, their electric light battling against the crimson blaze of the spear.

The atmosphere grew unbearably tense as Godric met Cú's blazing gaze. He raised his sword. "Then show me, Chulainn!" he shouted, the light of his circuits burning with renewed intensity. "Let's finish this!"

****

"Godric, no! Don't face it!" Salazar's voice cracked with uncharacteristic urgency, his normally calm demeanor shattered as he stepped closer. "That's no ordinary spear!"

"Salazar, what in Hecate has gotten into you?" Rowena turned to him, her brow furrowed in both confusion and concern. She had never seen him so shaken.

"You don't understand, Rowena!" Salazar's gaze darted to her. "That's Gáe Bolg—the cursed spear of legend!"

Rowena's breath caught in her throat. Her face paled as the weight of his words sank in. "No… that's… that's impossible!" she whispered.

Helga looked between her friends, her own fear mounting. "Will someone please explain what's going on?" she cried. "Why are you both so scared? What's so special about that spear?"

Rowena turned to Helga, the panic in her voice barely contained. "Gáe Bolg is no ordinary weapon. It's said to have been forged by the Old Gods themselves—like Caliburn." She swallowed hard, her gaze fixed on the crimson weapon in Cú's hands. "Legend says it never misses its mark, and its strike… is always fatal."

"Fatal?" Helga's face drained of color as she turned toward Godric. "But that means…"

Godric, still standing tall despite the tension in the air, suddenly froze. A sharp, excruciating pain surged through his body, forcing his knees to buckle. His sword piercing the ground as he leaned heavily on it for support, his breathing ragged. The glowing circuits streaking across his body pulsed erratically before dimming, flickering like a dying flame, then extinguishing completely.

"Damn it…" Godric choked as his muscles convulsed. "Not… now!" He coughed violently, and a fresh splash of blood hit the ground beneath him.

The sight made Helga gasp, and Rowena clutched her wand tighter, her face a mix of horror and helplessness. Salazar clenched his fists. "Gryffindor, you stubborn fool!"

Cú pulled back, the spear clutched tightly in his right hand as his body coiled like a spring, ready to unleash devastating force. His grip tightened, the crimson energy surrounding Gáe Bolg intensifying into a raging inferno. The power pulsed outward, whipping the air into a tempest that roared through the courtyard, setting the stone walls aglow with an ominous red hue.

"Sharpen your teeth, and strike the heavens! Gáe…" Cú snarled, his foot slamming into the ground with such force it sent cracks radiating outward. "Bolg!" he bellowed, his eyes blazing with a fury that seemed almost otherworldly.

The name of the cursed spear reverberated through the air, charged with lethal intent as he hurled it forward. The weapon became a streak of crimson light, tearing through the atmosphere. The ground where Cú stood exploded, fractured under the sheer intensity of the force unleashed.

"Godric… no!" Rowena's voice broke with terror as she screamed for her friend, powerless to stop what seemed inevitable.

Godric barely managed to raise his sword in a desperate attempt to defend himself, but the blinding, searing glow of the spear barreling toward him overwhelmed his senses. Just as the cursed weapon was about to strike, a figure appeared between Godric and his impending doom.

"That's enough, Cú!" A powerful, commanding voice cut through the chaos, resonating with both authority and fury.

The woman raised her hand, and an invisible barrier materialized in the air. The cursed spear collided with it, halted mere inches from her palm. The impact sent shockwaves rippling through the courtyard, but the barrier held firm. With a final, determined thrust of her arm skyward, the crimson light erupted in a blinding spiral, tearing through the clouds above. The spear then fell to the shattered ground with a metallic clang.

Salazar's jaw dropped, his sharp emerald eyes recognizing the new arrival instantly. "Údar…" he muttered, her name slipping from his lips like a curse. He smirked faintly, though his voice carried a note of bitterness. "Heh, cutting it pretty damned close, you heartless bitch."

The woman stood tall and commanding, her long, fiery red hair cascading down to her knees like a blazing curtain. Her robes bore the Ferrum sigil, but over them, she wore a green jacket emblazoned with the crest of her Clan. The most striking feature, however, was the black eyepatch over her right eye, giving her a fierce and unyielding presence.

She turned to face Cú, her single silver eye narrowing with cold fury. "I thought I made meself crystal clear the first time, ye bloody cunt!" she snapped. "So long as yer here, that attack is strictly off-limits! Well?! What've ye got to say fer yerself, ye feckin' gobshite?!"

"Forgive me, Údar." Cú took a knee, bowing his head. "I… I got carried away."

"Save yer feckin' excuses! I'll deal with ye later," Údar roared, causing Cú to flinch. "And ye'd best be prayin' to the Gods above that Headmaster Blaise is feelin' charitable, 'cause I sure as Hell ain't!"

"Um, Rowena," Helga leaned toward her friend. "Who's the scary lady? And why is Cú suddenly acting like a scolded puppy?"

"That's Údar Culaan, Helga," Rowena whispered back, her tone hushed but reverent. "Heir to the great House Culaan... one of the four legendary wizarding houses of Ireland." She glanced toward Údar, her expression a mix of awe and caution. "I've heard tales of her strength. They say she's unmatched in battle—terrifying and brilliant in equal measure."

Meanwhile, Godric staggered to his feet, the weight of his injuries evident in his labored movements. He wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, managing a strained but genuine smile. "Well… that was… something," he said, his voice rough with effort. "You have my thanks… for stepping in when you did."

"Don't thank me yet, boyo," she said, turning to Godric with a sly smirk. "I'm just not keen on havin' the death of a promisin' young lad weighin' on me conscience." She crossed her arms, her gaze glinting with a mixture of amusement and respect. "But I'll give ya this much—ye got stones, I'll grant ya that."

****

"Yer lucky I came by when I did," Údar said, her expression hardening as her gaze flicked to the fallen spear. "That there's Gáe Bolg. It don't miss. Always strikes true, piercin' the heart." She paused, heavy with somber weight. "No exceptions."

As if on cue, the spear began to tremble, its surface rippling with an ominous dark energy. A low hum filled the air, and the weapon lifted off the ground, hovering for a brief moment as crimson light pulsed along its length like a heartbeat. It shot through the air, returning to Cú's outstretched hand. The menacing glow dimmed as the spear contracted, its lethal form shrinking back into a wand. With practiced ease, Cú slipped it into the folds of his robes, his expression unreadable.

Godric took a steadying breath, his eyes never leaving Cú as he reached behind him. With practiced precision, he slid his sword back into its sheath with a flourish, the metallic click resonating softly amidst the tension lingering in the air. The blade settled into place, its weight a familiar comfort against his back.

"I apologize for me langer hound's behavior," Údar said, turning to the group with a slight bow, her fiery red hair catching the autumn light. Her tone was firm yet tinged with sincerity. "I'll sort this out meself, you have me word."

Salazar sauntered forward, his usual smirk curling on his lips. "Perhaps you ought to keep your pet on a tighter leash, Údar," he drawled, his tone dripping with mockery.

"Aww, such a wee lamb," Údar chuckled, her silver eye glinting with mischief. "It's so damned cute ya still think yer intimidatin', Sal." She flashed a wide grin, her tone equal parts teasing and cutting. "Just like when we were nippers, eh?"

"Hold on…" Helga looks between Údar and Salazar, eyebrows raised. "You two know each other?"

Údar gasped dramatically, turning to Salazar with a hand over her heart. "Ya mean ta tell me ye haven't told yer friends about me?" she asked. "Oh, Sal, ya've gone an' hurt me poor little feelin's. What's a girl got ta do ta get a mention these days?"

"I… well…" Salazar stammered, his usual composure cracking as a blush crept up his neck. "It simply… never came up in conversation!" he added hastily.

She grins widely as she watches Salazar squirm. "We're betrothed, y'see,"

Godric's jaw nearly hits the ground, his crimson eyes wide with shock. "What?! Are you serious?!"

"Betrothed?" Helga gasps, her hands flying to her cheeks as her eyes sparkle with delight. "You mean betrothed betrothed?! Like, destined to marry, betrothed?"

Salazar's face flushes as he crosses his arms, scowling. "It's not set in stone, you know!" he snaps, his usual composure utterly unraveling. "Just… family politics. Nothing more."

"Actually, it doesn't surprise me," Rowena said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Like House Culaan, House Slytherin is also one of the four noble wizarding houses of Ireland, so an arranged betrothal would make sense." Her gaze shifted sharply to Salazar, her eyes narrowing. "That being said, why haven't you mentioned this before?"

Salazar groans, dragging a hand down his face. "Because it's irrelevant," he grumbles. "And I'd hoped she'd forgotten."

"Forgotten?" Údar laughs, her fiery hair swaying with the movement. "As if I could forget ye, me dear betrothed." Her tone drips with syrupy sweetness, each word oozing playful sarcasm. "Why, I've been dreamin' of our wedding day since I was no taller than a pixie's wee wing."

Salazar let out an exasperated groan, rolling his eyes. "Ugh... This is exactly why I absolutely despise you, Údar," he muttered, his tone dripping with irritation.

She winked at Salazar, a sly grin curling her lips. "Ah, don't be worryin' that pretty little head o' yours, Sal," she teased. "You ain't me type anyway."

Suddenly, Godric wavered, his face pale and drained of all color. His hand instinctively shot to his side, gripping tightly as a grimace of pain flickered across his face. His legs trembled, struggling to support him, and despite his efforts to steady himself, his knees buckled slightly.

"Oi, ya don't look too good, boyo. Best get yer arse to the Hospital Wing," Údar said, steadying him with a firm hand as she scowled. "Yer a right gobshite, abusin' Vis Vitalis like that when ya got no business doin' so. Yer lucky yer still standin'."

Helga rushes to Godric's side, worry etched across her face. "Godric! Are you alright?" she asks, her voice trembling as she steadies him.

"I'm fine…" he mutters, though his weight leans heavily on her. His face is pale, and his breath comes in shallow gasps. "Just… a bit lightheaded."

Helga gives him a disapproving look. "You're always saying you're fine when you're clearly not."

Salazar steps up, sliding an arm under Godric's other side with a resigned sigh. "You and your Ignis bravado," he grumbles, shaking his head. "Honestly, Gryffindor, you're a disaster waiting to happen."

He adjusts his grip. "Let's get you to Doctor Adani before you keel over entirely. Though, I must say, I'm looking forward to seeing her blow a lid when she finds out what you did." His tone is equal parts exasperation and amusement.

"Not. Helping," Helga snaps at Salazar, shooting him a glare.

"Not wrong, either," Salazar replies with a smirk, earning another glare from Helga.

"Children, please," Rowena chided. "Let's just focus on getting him to Doctor Adani," she added with a resigned sigh.