The Marauders: A Hogwarts Tale

Helena's face flushed deeper at Salazar's parting quip. "Oh, for the love of—" she shot him a sharp glare, her tone tight with frustration. "Godric's right—piss off, Salazar!"

"Very well, very well," Salazar chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Your loss, I suppose. I bid you both a good night."

He sauntered out of the common room; his grin as playful as ever. As the sound of his footsteps faded, an awkward silence settled between Godric and Helena, the warmth from the swirling pyre amplifying the redness on their faces.

Helena broke the silence first, fidgeting with the sleeve of her robe. "So… um, is it true?" she asked hesitantly, her voice softer than usual. "You don't have a date for the Samhain Ball?"

Godric rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "No, I don't."

"Oh…" Helena glanced away, her blush deepening. After a moment, she spoke again, her words tentative. "Then… maybe—"

Before she could finish, Godric interrupted with a chuckle. "Actually, I was thinking of taking Rowena's advice and going stag," he said, flashing her a disarming smile. "It's about having fun, right?"

Helena's face fell ever so slightly, but she quickly masked it with a polite smile. "Oh, yes, of course," she said, nodding quickly. "That's a good idea. Fun—that's what matters, after all."

Godric patted the book in his lap, the sound echoing faintly in the now-empty common room. Realizing how late it had gotten, he glanced around, stretching his arms to ease the tension from the day as he stood.

He stretched, letting out a yawn as he covered his mouth. "Well, it's been a long day—Transfigurations, Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts." He rolled his shoulders, a small crack echoing in the cozy common room. "Man, I'm bushed. I think I'll turn in for the night."

Helena smiled, though there was a faint strain to it as she gestured toward the staircase. "Of course, you go ahead. I've got a few things to finish up here." She motioned vaguely at the parchments on the table in front of her.

"Alright then." Godric took a few steps toward the stairs before turning back to offer her a warm smile. "Goodnight, Helena. Don't stay up too late."

"Goodnight, Godric," she replied, waving lightly. "Sleep well."

****

As he disappeared up the stairs, the glow of his crimson hair fading with him, Helena's smile faltered entirely. She buried her face in her hands, letting out a groan of frustration. "By the stars, I'm so stupid!" she muttered, her voice muffled. "Trying to ask him out like that—what was I even thinking?"

She sighed heavily, her fingers running through her long brown hair as her shoulders sagged. "Not that it matters. Why would someone like him ever want to go out with someone like me?"

Her eyes flickered toward the swirling pyre, the golden flames casting flickering shadows across her face, her melancholy thoughts mirrored in their dance.

****

As Godric ascended the stairs to his dormitory, his thoughts swirled like a tempest. The revelations about The Visionaries and The High Table weighed heavily on him, each step feeling heavier than the last. The ancient portraits lining the Ignis corridors seemed to watch him, their painted eyes gleaming with a silent judgment, as though evaluating his worth.

"These Clans…" he muttered under his breath. "They're more deeply rooted in Excalibur than I ever imagined. Maybe… maybe there's no escaping them."

He paused at his door, his hand resting on the brass knob. The polished surface reflected the flickering crystal lights in a dim glow. For a moment, he hesitated, feeling the enormity of his place in this intricate web of tradition and power. The weight of it all threatened to overwhelm him.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open. The sight of his familiar, cluttered room greeted him—a small haven of controlled chaos amidst the uncertainty of the castle. Books and notes were strewn across his desk, his crimson scarf draped haphazardly over the back of a chair, and his longsword rested upright against the bed, its intricate scabbard glinting faintly in the moonlight that spilled through the arched window.

He set his jaw, his resolve hardening. "But I won't let it change me," he murmured to himself. "I won't let it change what I stand for."

Godric's eyes settled on the hilt of his sword, the craftsmanship gleaming as if alive in the silvery glow. It seemed to hum with quiet reassurance, a reminder of the path he'd chosen to walk. He crossed the room and rested his hand lightly on the pommel, the cool metal grounding him.

"Clan or no clan," he said firmly. "I'll carve my own path."

The room fell silent save for the distant hoot of an owl outside. The resolve in Godric's heart burned as fiercely as the Ignis crest above the doorway.

****

The following day, Godric hurried down the corridors of Excalibur, arms weighed down with books and parchment. He navigated the bustling crowd of students with practiced ease, his crimson scarf trailing behind him as he weaved through the throng. The resonant chimes of the clock tower struck noon, signaling the start of lunch in the Great Hall. Godric quickened his pace, hoping to grab a quick bite before heading to Professor Duchannes' additional Transfiguration class during free period.

As he turned into a quieter, empty hallway away from the main thoroughfare, he suddenly stopped. Tilting his head, he caught a peculiar sound—a faint, serpentine hissing that sent a shiver down his spine. It wasn't a natural noise; it almost felt alive, as though it danced somewhere between sound and speech.

"What in Charlamagne's name is that?" he muttered; curiosity tinged with unease.

Intrigued, he stepped lightly down the hall, the faint hissing growing slightly louder. Rounding the corner, Godric collided with a familiar figure.

"Salazar!" Godric exclaimed, startled. His grip tightened on his books as he took a step back. "What are you doing here?"

Salazar raised an eyebrow, his expression calm and composed. "Godric," he said smoothly, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Fancy meeting you here. On the way to lunch, I suppose?"

Godric's crimson eyes darted past Salazar, catching a glimpse of something pale and sinuous slipping into a nearby vent. A white, serpentine tail flicked out of sight, disappearing into the shadows. His brow furrowed. "Salazar," he said slowly, suspicion creeping into his tone. "What were you doing over there? And what was that mysterious hissing noise?"

"Hissing?" Salazar chuckled softly, placing a reassuring hand on Godric's shoulder. "My dear friend, I believe you've been spending far too much time buried in your studies. Hearing voices, as it were—is normally the first sign of madness."

Godric rubbed his temple, a flicker of doubt clouding his crimson eyes. "But… I could have sworn I heard something," he muttered, his voice trailing off. After a moment, he exhaled heavily and shook his head. "You know what? Maybe you're right. It's probably nothing."

Salazar's smirk widened as he clapped a hand on Godric's shoulder, steering him away from the vent. "Come on, let's not keep the feast waiting. I'm positively famished, and I'm sure you could use a good meal before your next class."

Godric nodded, though his gaze lingered on the vent for a moment longer, unease twisting in his chest. Finally, he tore his eyes away and fell in step beside Salazar. "Alright, lead the way."

As the pair made their way down the corridor, the lively hum of students in the main hall grew louder, a stark contrast to the eerie quiet they left behind.

Suddenly, a thunderous explosion rocked the hallway, the reverberations shaking the ancient stones of the castle walls. Godric and Salazar both staggered, their eyes snapping toward the direction of the blast. The unmistakable sound of chaos originated from the Prefects' bathroom.

"Helga Hufflepuff!" Lucian's voice boomed, echoing down the corridor like a wrathful storm. "You are in so much bloody trouble!"

Before either could react, a wild-eyed Helga tore past them at breakneck speed, her golden scarf trailing like a banner of defiance. Her face lit up with a grin of pure glee, she let out a cackle—half laugh, half battle cry—that could only be described as madcap.

"And here I was foolish enough to believe we'd have a peaceful afternoon," Salazar sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Truly, I am a dreamer."

Godric chuckled, shaking his head. "Never a dull moment with Helga, huh?" he said, the grin on his face growing. "What do you reckon, Salazar? Should we, uh… intervene?"

"And miss the show?" Salazar emerald eyes glinted with mischief. "Oh, perish the thought, my good sir. Besides, I'm dying to see what delightful brand of chaos our dear Helga has conjured up this time."

Godric hesitated, glancing between Salazar and the direction Helga had bolted. "But shouldn't we do something about Lucian? He is the Head Prefect, after all. If he catches her, she'll be in detention until Yuletide."

Salazar waved a dismissive hand, his tone light. "Only if he catches her, and let's face it—Lucian has the stamina of a Hinkypunk. Watching him huff and puff after Helga is entertainment in itself." He grinned. "Besides, the poor man needs to justify that shiny badge of his, don't you think?"

Godric sighed, shaking his head with a rueful smile. "Fine, you win. Lead on, then. But if we get dragged into detention because of this, I'm blaming you."

"Blame away," Salazar said, throwing an arm around Godric's shoulder as they set off. "But I assure you, this is going to be well worth the trouble."

The two hurried after Helga, following the distant echoes of Lucian's indignant shouting and what sounded suspiciously like another small explosion followed by a shrill girly scream. Godric couldn't help but grin—Salazar was right. With Helga around, life was anything but boring.

"By the way, about that hissing," Salazar said casually, casting a sidelong glance at Godric. "Perhaps we should keep that little detail between us, hmm? No need to have Rowena fretting over something so… trivial."

Godric groaned, rolling his eyes. "Tell me about it. She's brilliant, sure, but she has a knack for overreacting. Last thing I need is her running off to Doctor Adani to have me examined like some sort of mental patient."

Salazar laughed, his tone teasing. "Oh, I'd pay good money to see that. Can you imagine her dragging you by the ear to the Hospital Wing, all the while lecturing you about magical auditory delusions?"

Godric shot him a look, though a grin tugged at his lips. "And I'd bet you'd be right there, enjoying the spectacle."

"Of course," Salazar quipped with mock seriousness. "What kind of friend would I be if I didn't support your public humiliation?"

Godric chuckled despite himself, shaking his head. "Sometimes, I don't know why I even bother with you."

"Because deep down, you know your life would be dreadfully dull without me," Salazar said smugly.