The Marauders: A Hogwarts Tale

Later that night, the Ignis common room buzzed with activity. Students lounged on plush sofas, the room aglow with the warm light of the ever-twirling pyre in the center, casting fiery yet cozy shadows as it spiraled upward into the high, silo-like ceiling. Conversations filled the air, most of them centering on plans for the Samhain Ball.

Godric closed the hefty tome in his lap with a tired sigh, sinking back into the red velveteen couch. "By the Old Gods, all this technical jargon about Vis Vitalis is making my head spin," he muttered, running a hand through his crimson hair. His eyes then dropped to his palm as he curled his fingers. "When I use it, it's more… instinctual, like a feeling, really."

Helena glanced up from the mountain of parchment spread across the coffee table before her. "That's what magic is about, Godric," she said, adjusting her quill. "It's not just about knowledge—it's also about feeling. The hand holds the wand, the mind directs the spell, but the heart… that's where real power comes from."

Godric raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at his lips. "That's… actually quite poetic. I've never thought about it like that." His gaze drifted to the parchment in front of her. "Those parchments—are they for The Congregation?"

"Indeed," Helena nodded, gathering a few into a tidy pile. "As Overseer, the grind never ends. Even with the ball coming up, duties come first."

"Speaking of which…" Godric leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Salazar mentioned something back at The Congregation. About The High Table. He said they ruled the student body from the shadows. What did he mean by that?"

Helena froze for a moment, her quill hovering over her parchment. Her hazel eyes darted around the room, ensuring no one was eavesdropping. "Oh… that." She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "Godric, that's not something we openly discuss."

"Well, now you have to tell me." He matched her hushed tone. "What's The High Table?"

Helena sighed, setting her quill down carefully, as if the weight of her explanation required full focus. "The High Table," she began, "is what you might call the unseen hand of Excalibur. They're not officially acknowledged by the faculty, but they've been around for centuries, operating quietly as the leaders of The Congregation."

"That sounds ominous," Godric said, frowning. "Are you saying that there's an actual secret council running things in Excalibur?"

"Keep your voice down, Godric," Helena said sharply. "It's… complicated. Yes, and no. The High Table exists to ensure order and preserve traditions—both for those who serve beneath it and those who stand above it. They're the unseen foundation that's allowed Excalibur to thrive."

"That sounds an awful lot like they're unaccountable," Godric said, crossing his arms. "Surely the students have a right to know who's really in charge."

Helena leaned forward; her expression serious. "Some things are better left in the shadows, Godric. Trust me, it's not about secrecy for its own sake. The High Table operates for the greater good, even if it's not always obvious."

She sighed, sitting back as if the weight of her words lingered in the air. "Now, perhaps we should return to our tasks at hand?"

Godric hesitated, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly. "Right… the greater good," he said, his tone laced with skepticism as he picked up his book. But after a moment of silence, he couldn't help himself. "Just one more thing. Why does the High Table exist if we already have The Visionaries?"

****

Helena paused, choosing her words with precision. "Before I answer that, Godric, let me ask you something," she said, clasping her hands together and resting them in her lap. Her expression was calm but serious. "Do you actually understand what The Visionaries are?"

Godric tilted his head, a slight frown tugging at his lips. "Not exactly," he admitted, scratching his head. "But they're the best of the best, aren't they? The top students from each house, and five of them form The Student Council."

She nodded slowly. "That's true. But do you know what it takes to become a Visionary?"

His brow furrowed further. "No… I don't. Is it particularly difficult?"

Helena let out a small, humorless chuckle. "Difficult doesn't even begin to cover it." She leaned forward. "Only Fifth Years and above are even eligible to apply. They're chosen from hundreds of candidates across all houses, shortlisted through a rigorous selection process."

Godric's curiosity deepened. "Okay, so it's competitive. I can understand that."

"The training program for the Visionaries is relentless," Helena continued, her expression darkened slightly. "It's a test of intelligence, resilience, magic, and willpower. They're pushed to their absolute limits—mentally, physically, and emotionally. Some would even call it inhumane and downright cruel. Many drop out long before they reach the end."

The crackling fire in the common room seemed to dim as Helena spoke, the dancing flames casting long, flickering shadows across the walls. The once-bustling chatter of students softened into a distant hum, as though the room itself were holding its breath.

Her hazel eyes gleamed in the firelight, reflecting its flickering warmth. "To even be considered as a Visionary, candidates must earn Stellas—golden tokens awarded by the professors. They're given for exceptional performance in classes, significant contributions to activities, outstanding service to society, and achievements in dungeon explorations."

Godric's eyes widened as he processed her words. "By the Old Gods," he muttered, leaning forward. "That sounds… intense. And that's just to qualify?"

Helena nodded, a shadow of sympathy crossing her features. "Yes, and it's no easy feat. A candidate must accumulate ten Stellas within a single academic year. Fall short, even by one, and you're disqualified."

"Ten in a year?" Godric exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief. "That's a lot of pressure. How does anyone even manage that?"

"It's not meant to be easy," she replied. "It's designed to test everything a student has—skill, determination, resourcefulness, and discipline. Only the most exceptional make it through."

Godric leaned back, exhaling slowly. "No wonder they're considered the elite. But still… the stakes must be enormous. What happens to those who try and fail?"

"Some pick themselves up and try again the next year," Helena said with a slight shrug. "Others… don't. The program isn't just a test of ability; it's a crucible that reveals a student's true character. Not everyone is ready for that kind of scrutiny."

Helena's gaze dropped to the floor. "Some students… resort to taking Stellas from one another," she admitted, her tone heavy with implication.

Godric's eyes widened in shock. "You're not saying… they steal them?"

"It's not outright theft," she said, "but let's just say some methods are far from honorable. Challenges, duels, even blackmail. It's all fair game within the system."

"But surely there are rules against that sort of thing?" Godric asked, incredulous.

Helena met his gaze, her expression grave. "It's a crucible, Godric. A test of strength, cunning, and resolve. If you can't protect your Stellas or if you had gained them through dishonest means, you're not fit to be a Visionary, and you certainly aren't ready for what comes next."

Godric shook his head, the weight of her words sinking in. "Blimey."

Helena nodded solemnly. "The few who succeed must then face the Visionary Trials—a grueling combination of examinations and combat tournaments. Only one emerges as the Visionary of their house."

Godric leaned back, exhaling slowly as he tried to process the sheer magnitude of it all. "It sounds more like preparing for war than earning a badge of honor."

"In many ways, it is," Helena replied softly. "To become a Visionary isn't just about proving you're the best. It's about showing you can thrive under pressure and lead in the face of adversity. The title carries weight, and the road to earning it is deliberately brutal."

Godric furrowed his brow, leaning forward. "That's… quite something," he said slowly. "But what does any of that have to do with the High Table?"

Helena gave him an enigmatic smile, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. "I wasn't finished, Godric," she said, her tone patient but firm. "As you know, The Congregation of Clans governs what Salazar so charmingly calls our 'extracurricular activities.'"

Godric nodded, leaning back in his seat. "Yes, we've established that much."

Helena glanced around the common room again. "Now, the High Table serves as the ruling body of The Congregation," she explained. "All in all, there are five seats at the Table in total."

"But Helena," Godric interjected, his frustration beginning to show. "That still doesn't explain what the Visionaries have to do with the High—"

Helena cut him off, her tone sharp but calm. "Godric, the High Table isn't just a group of mysterious overseers sitting in the shadows," she said. "It's composed of the leaders of the five most powerful Clans in Excalibur. They're guardians of tradition, and the arbiters of the unwritten laws that govern The Congregation as a whole."

Godric's brow furrowed deeply as the realization dawned on him, his crimson eyes widening in shock. "Five Houses… Five Visionaries… Five Seats at the Table. Helena… you don't mean—"

Helena nodded slowly; her gaze steady. "Yes, Godric. That's exactly what I'm saying. You didn't think the five most powerful students in Excalibur wouldn't also be running the five most powerful Clans, did you?"

"Ah, it would seem our brave little lion cub has finally pieced it all together."

Both Godric and Helena turned sharply at the sound of Salazar's smooth, mocking tone. He stood behind them, his arms casually crossed, studying Godric with an amused glint in his eyes and a sly grin tugging at his lips.

"How… delightfully amusing," Salazar drawled, stepping closer. "I must say, watching the gears turn in that noble little head of yours has been quite the spectacle."

****

"Salazar?" Godric asked, startled by his sudden appearance. "How did you—? I thought students from other houses weren't allowed in here."

Salazar smirked, casually leaning forward atop the couch. "Oh, my dear Godric," he drawled, his voice dripping with smug amusement. "Rules are meant to be bent, not broken. And as long as one conducts oneself with a certain… finesse, access remains delightfully unrestricted."

Helena raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms as a sly grin played on her lips. "Though, as Monitor, I have no problem banning troublemakers, when necessary," she said, her tone carrying an edge of authority. "And believe me, I've dealt with my fair share of ruffians."

Godric sighed, slumping back into his seat. The weight of their earlier conversation about the Visionaries and the High Table pressed heavily on him. "Shadow organizations, secret councils, hidden arenas, underground commerce," he muttered, glancing between Helena and Salazar. "Blimey, sometimes I feel like I'm playing catch-up in a world that's already leagues ahead."

Salazar's grin widened as he clapped Godric on the shoulder. "Ah, but you're learning, aren't you?" he said. "And that, my dear lion cub, is precisely what makes you so entertaining."

Noticing Godric's still shell-shocked expression, Salazar shrugged. "This is precisely why I warned you not to get ahead of yourself," he said. "Excalibur holds more secrets than any one person could uncover, and nothing—absolutely nothing—is as it seems."

Godric took a deep breath, his shock fading as determination began to rise within him. He sat up straighter, his crimson eyes blazing with newfound resolve. His gaze drifted to the wall, where the House Ignis motto was etched in bold white stone: Our Courage Is Eternal. All For One And One For All.

"I hear you, Salazar," he said. "But none of this changes my goal. I will become a Visionary of House Ignis," he declared, the fire in his eyes mirroring the passion in his heart. "Even if it means putting everything on the line."

Salazar's smirk faltered for just a moment, his emerald eyes narrowing as if to gauge the sincerity in Godric's words. "Bold words, my friend," he said finally, crossing his arms. "Just make sure you don't get burned."

Godric glanced around the common room, his curiosity piqued. "Speaking of which, I haven't seen the Ignis Visionary around. And it's been months," he said. "Is he always this… elusive?"

Helena shifted slightly, adjusting her parchments. "Well, there's a reason for that," she began carefully. "They're currently on leave, dealing with some pressing family matters."

Godric furrowed his brow. "Wait… they?" he asked, emphasizing the plural. "As in… more than one?"

Salazar chuckled. "Ah, so you caught that little detail, did you? Impressive," he said. "Yes, they. While typically only one person holds the title of Visionary, there are rare exceptions when two are chosen to share the title."

"Two Visionaries? That's a thing?" Godric tilted his head, intrigued. "Why would they do that?"

"Such occurrences are rare and happen only under exceptional circumstances," Salazar explained, his tone laced with intrigue. "Usually, it's because the candidates are so evenly matched in skill and leadership potential that it's impossible to pick just one. They become co-Visionaries."

Helena nodded in agreement. "The last time it happened was nearly three centuries ago. It's practically a legend in itself."

"And speaking of rare occurrences…" A mischievous glint sparkled in Salazar's emerald eyes as he turned toward Helena, a sly smirk curling across his lips. "Helena, have you anyone in mind for the Samhain Ball? If not, our handsome young lad here is currently available."

Both Godric and Helena's faces turned a brilliant shade of crimson, the warmth from the swirling pyre suddenly feeling far too intense.

"S-Salazar!" Godric sputtered, fumbling over his words as he avoided meeting Helena's gaze. "That's not—I mean, I don't—Oh, piss off, Salazar!"

Helena cleared her throat sharply, straightening her posture in an attempt to regain her composure. "I… I'm perfectly capable of arranging my own affairs, thank you very much, Salazar."

Salazar's smirk only grew wider, his tone dripping with playful mockery. "Oh? So, you're not denying there's interest, then?" He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. "How… intriguing."