The Marauders: A Hogwarts Tale

The night was colder than usual, the unforgiving chill of winter creeping through the ancient stone walls of Excalibur, slithering into every crevice and shadow. The weight of the day's events pressed heavily on their shoulders, an unbearable tension that followed them like a specter. Godric's footsteps were heavy, his movements mechanical, burdened by the maelstrom of emotions raging within him—rage, sorrow, and pain, all swirling into a tempest that seemed ready to consume him. His anger burned hottest for Volg, but there was no escaping the venom he directed inward, loathing himself for his failure to protect the one person who mattered most to him.

Rowena and Helga walked beside him, their gazes flickering uneasily toward the other students gathered in the dim corridors. Whispers flitted through the air, cruel murmurs barely masked behind smirks and sidelong glances. A few dared to exchange mocking sneers until Salazar's sharp, steely glare cut through the crowd like a blade, silencing them with a single look.

Godric knew the rumors had already spread like wildfire. The sordid details of what had happened, distorted through countless retellings, had likely reached every corner of the castle by now. Some students were shocked, perhaps even sympathetic. Others, however, looked upon him with disgust—half appalled by Volg's vile act, half scandalized by the revelation of a relationship between a student and a slave. The whispered judgment did nothing but fan the flames of Godric's simmering fury.

He felt the weight of his sword strapped across his back, its presence both comforting and maddening. His fingers twitched with the urge to draw it, daring anyone foolish enough to test him. His crimson eyes burned with an intensity that kept most at bay, yet the tension around him only grew thicker as they approached the Grand Staircase.

Helga hesitated for a moment; her warm amber eyes full of worry as they darted between her friends. "Godric…" she began softly, but the words seemed to fail her as she bit her lip, unsure of how to reach him.

Rowena placed a steady hand on her arm, shaking her head gently. "Not now," she whispered. "Let him feel this, Helga. He needs to."

Salazar, walking just behind Godric, remained silent. His emerald eyes flickered with calculation, but there was an undercurrent of emotion beneath his composed demeanor. He understood better than most the torment clawing at Godric's mind. For now, he would keep watch, ready to intervene should the boiling rage spill over into something dangerous.

Godric pressed onward, each step reverberating through the stone halls like a battle cry. The whispers and stares meant nothing to him. His focus was singular, his fury searing. Somewhere in the depths of the castle, Volg was reveling in his cruelty, and Raine… Raine was suffering.

And Godric would not rest until he put an end to it all.

"Look, it's him…" one of the students at the foot of the Grand Staircase muttered, loud enough to carry. "The pelt shagger."

The sneer on his face and the mocking glint in his eyes were enough to make Godric stop dead in his tracks. His crimson gaze locked onto the boy, narrowing dangerously. The words hung in the air like a taunt, a deliberate provocation.

Godric's hands balled into fists, his knuckles whitening as his jaw clenched tightly. His teeth bared in a silent snarl; his entire body tensed like a coiled spring. The hilt of his sword pressed into his back, calling to him with a forbidden allure. It whispered promises of justice, of retribution, the blade thirsting for the blood of the insolent fool who dared speak out of turn.

"Godric…" Salazar's calm but firm voice cut through the storm brewing in his friend's chest. A steady hand landed on Godric's shoulder. "Don't."

For a fleeting moment, the murderous thoughts were stifled, the haze of fury lifting just enough for Godric to step forward toward the staircase. He paused, however, at the first step. Slowly, he turned to the two boys, his expression cold and deadly.

"Do I look like I care what you think?" he said. The mocking smirks faltered as the students exchanged uneasy glances.

"Do I look like I give a shit what you think?!" Godric's voice rose sharply, his words reverberating through the corridor like a crack of thunder, making everyone freeze.

The roar echoed, silencing the whispers around them. The two boys shrank back, their confidence crumbling under the weight of his fury. The onlookers stood stock still, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a blade.

Helga's sharp eyes noticed an older student with a Prefect badge approaching, concern etched on his face. Before he could intervene, Lucian stepped in, a hand on the Prefect's shoulder. He exchanged a quiet word and cast Helga a knowing glance, his expression sympathetic. Helga offered a small nod of gratitude.

"Rowena, Helga," Salazar said, his tone calm but commanding, "go back to your quarters. I'll see to it that Godric makes it to his."

Rowena hesitated, her brow furrowing with concern. "But, Salazar—"

He raised a hand, cutting her off gently but firmly. "Trust me. I've got this."

Helga bit her lip, glancing between them before nodding reluctantly. "Alright… but you'd better take care of him."

Salazar offered a small, reassuring smirk. "Always."

The two girls exchanged a glance, their hesitation palpable. Finally, Rowena gave a curt nod, and Helga sighed before the two of them turned and headed toward their respective dormitories.

Salazar turned to Godric, patting him firmly on the back. "Come along, Gryffindor," he said evenly, guiding him away from the foot of the staircase. "Pay them no mind. They're not worth it."

Godric hesitated, his gaze still burning into the two boys who now looked like cornered prey. With visible effort, he wrenched his eyes away and followed Salazar up the stairs, the tension in his fists only beginning to ease.

****

Godric slammed the door open, the force threatening to tear it off its hinges. He stormed inside, his movements frantic as he grabbed a bag and began stuffing it with essentials—clothes, towels, anything he could get his hands on. Salazar followed, stepping in calmly and leaning against the wall by the door, his sharp emerald eyes tracking Godric's every move.

"What do you think you're doing, Gryffindor?" Salazar asked dryly, though the rhetorical nature of the question was evident.

Godric didn't pause, his crimson eyes darting around the room as he gathered his belongings. "Where are they keeping her, Salazar?" he demanded. "The dungeons? The towers?"

Salazar raised an eyebrow. "And why do you need to know? What exactly are you planning to do?"

"Dammit, Salazar, do you really need to ask?" Godric snapped, casting a sharp glance at his friend. "I'm going to find her. I'm going to rescue her!"

"Oh?" Salazar's expression didn't waver. "And where, pray tell, will you go?"

"Somewhere! Anywhere!" Godric cried, shoving the last of his clothes into the bag. "Somewhere far away, where they'll never find us!"

"Hhm…" Salazar pushed off the wall, taking a measured step toward him. "And then what?"

Godric froze momentarily, their eyes locking. His crimson orbs burned with anger and determination, but Salazar's emerald gaze matched his fire with ice.

"Have… you… learned… NOTHING?!" Salazar's voice cracked like a whip. "You want to save her? Fine. But what's your plan after that? Cart her off to some distant land? She'll be branded a runaway, and you—" he pointed a finger at Godric— "a thief."

"I'll—"

Salazar cut him off with a raised hand. "Do NOT interrupt me, Gryffindor. You will hear me out!" His tone was sharp and unyielding. "When the Authority catches you—and do not delude yourself into thinking they won't—they'll send Raine straight back to Volg. And you?" Salazar's lips curled in a sneer. "You'll rot in a cozy little cell in Revel's End. Maybe if you're lucky, they'll make you Creedy's bunkmate!"

Godric opened his mouth to retort, but Salazar's glare silenced him.

"And don't think I don't know what other half-baked idea is festering in that impulsive brain of yours." Salazar said, a dangerous edge creeping in. "You want to kill Volg, don't you? You think his death will magically grant Raine her freedom. But no, Gryffindor—it won't. She'll simply pass to his next of kin. So, what's your grand plan then? Kill the next Dryfus in line? And the next?" he said through clenched teeth. "When will it end? What happens when there's no one left to kill?"

The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence, Salazar's words echoing in the stillness like a toll of doom. Godric gritted his teeth, his whole-body trembling as the weight of the moment bore down on him. Then, with a growl of pure frustration, he grabbed his bag and hurled it against the wall. It struck with a resounding thud, spilling its contents across the floor in a chaotic mess.

"What the hell am I supposed to do?!" Godric shouted, tears streaming down his face, the dam of his emotions finally breaking. "That bastard is going to send Raine off to… to…" He faltered, unable to complete the thought. "I promised her, Salazar! I swore I'd protect her, that no one would ever hurt her again!" His fists clenched tightly as his chest heaved with uneven breaths.

He let out a shaky exhale. "I failed her… and now I'm going to lose her. It's all my fault."

"No." Salazar stepped forward, gripping Godric's shoulders firmly. His emerald eyes burned with intensity. "Don't you dare blame yourself, my friend. This is not your fault. This is on Volg—the vile, pathetic bastard that he is."

Salazar released his grip, stepping back as his expression darkened. "Volg is clever, I'll give him that. He fights battles while hiding behind the shields of bureaucracy and rules, knowing full well your sword can't reach him. But he's not clever enough. You want him dead, Godric? Believe me, so do I. But we do it the smart way."

Godric's tear-streaked face lifted slightly, curiosity flickering in his eyes despite the anguish. "What do you mean, Salazar?"

Salazar's lips curled into a cold, calculating smirk. "There are two things Volg Dryfus cares about above all else: vengeance against those who've wronged him and his reputation within The Congregation." He began pacing slowly, his words deliberate and cutting. "He inherited the Calishans. With that came prestige, influence, and power. All of which he's squandered with his insufferable arrogance and incompetence."

Salazar paused, his gaze sharp as a blade. "Like everyone in The Congregation, Volg is bound by the very same rules and laws enforced by the High Table. Rules with consequences so severe that even the most ambitious fool wouldn't dare break them."

He locked eyes with Godric. "You want Raine back? Turn those very rules and consequences against him."

"But… how?" Godric asked as he looked up at his friend. His gaze searched Salazar's face intently, grasping for even the faintest glimmer of hope.

Salazar leaned in slightly, his emerald eyes sharp and calculating. "I didn't want to say this in front of the girls, but do you remember what I told you about Clans fighting for more… 'tangible' rewards?" He crossed his arms, his tone unwavering. "Declare a Bellum Inter Duos and challenge him to a duel. Put his honor, authority, and beloved Clan on the line. By the laws of the Codex Duellum, and the Congregation, he will not be able to refuse."

Godric's crimson eyes widened in realization, the weight of Salazar's words settling on him like an unspoken command. His mind raced as Salazar's expression remained firm.

"Si vis pacem, parabellum. You know what needs to be done, Godric," Salazar said.

****

The next evening, Godric, Salazar, Helga, Rowena, and Helena gathered in the Ignis common room. The clock had just struck midnight, the stillness of the castle enveloping the space as most students had long retired to their dormitories. The only sound was the soft crackling of the fire in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the room. The tension among them was palpable, weighing down the air like a storm on the verge of breaking. Rowena's brow furrowed in irritation, her simmering anger barely contained, while Helga sat in contemplative silence. Helena glanced between them; her expression troubled.

Helena broke the silence. "Godric, do you even realize what you're proposing? A Congregation duel against Volg and the Calishans?" She shook her head, incredulous.

"It's the only way," Godric said firmly, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

"No, it's not!" Rowena snapped, her sapphire eyes blazed with incredulity. "This is reckless, Godric, even for you. Do you even comprehend what you're walking into?"

"She's right," Helena added, leaning forward with an intense gaze. "And besides, you'll need at least two members to even call yourself a Clan. Even with Slytherin on board," she glanced at Salazar, "as formidable as he claims to be, the two of you alone will be outnumbered and outmatched, especially if it ends up a team duel."

"That's why…" Godric's gaze swept over the group before landing on Rowena and Helga. "That's why I need your help. Both of you."

Rowena's eyes narrowed, her arms crossing defensively. "You want me… to join a Clan?" she snarled. "To be part of The Congregation?" Her voice dripped with disdain. "Godric, in all the time we've known each other, have I ever given even a shred of approval for The Congregation? Why in Hecate's name would I join a Clan now?"

"Hypocrite..." Salazar drawled, his smirk sharp enough to cut glass, tinged with simmering anger. "You've spent so much time preaching about loyalty and supporting your friends. But when it comes down to it, when Godric truly needs you, you turn your back on him. How utterly noble of you."

Rowena's face flushed with indignation, her lips parting to retort, but Helena cut her off. "And another thing," Helena said firmly, her eyes locking onto Godric's. "A duel isn't just about throwing down a gauntlet and expecting to walk away unscathed. You'll have to wager something of equal or greater value. What could you possibly offer that matches what Volg has taken?"

Godric's fists clenched tightly at his sides, his silence speaking volumes. The firelight reflected in his crimson eyes, hard and unwavering. Rowena and Helena exchanged wide-eyed glances, the weight of his intention settling heavily between them.

"No! Absolutely not!" Rowena shot to her feet, her anger boiling over. "You've lost your mind, Godric Gryffindor!" she snapped. "And besides, do you think any of this will matter if you fail? Do you honestly believe Raine would want you to throw everything away like this?"

"Rowena," Salazar's voice was calm, but there was a sharp edge to it as he looked up at her. "He's made his decision, and frankly, he has no other choice. Volg holds all the cards. This is the only way to level the playing field."

"Oh, of course," Rowena retorted, turning her glare on Salazar. "And you're just thrilled to fan the flames, aren't you? You've always been one for theatrics, Salazar, but this is beyond even your usual penchant for chaos."

"So, you're perfectly fine with Raine being turned into a broodmare to line Volg's pockets?" Salazar spat, springing to his feet with a fury that seemed to fill the room. His emerald eyes burned as he leaned forward. "A hypocrite is one thing, but I never thought you'd stoop to being a heartless wench. And a coward on top of it!" His words came out like venom, twisting the knife deeper. "I wonder what your beloved brother would think of the woman standing before us now?"

He straightened, his voice rising as he delivered the final blow. "You don't deserve your namesake, Rowena. You don't deserve to be called a Ravenclaw!"

"Don't you dare, Salazar!" Rowena's sapphire eyes glistening with a mix of rage and hurt. Her entire frame trembled as she pointed a finger at him. "Don't you bloody dare!"

"Enough!" Helga cried out. She clutched her ears, her frustration erupting in a way that startled everyone into silence. "Stop it, both of you!"

She turned to Godric, her amber eyes blazing with determination. "Whatever you're planning, Godric—whatever it takes—I'm in."

"Helga." Rowena's eyes widened. "Do you even understand what you're committing to? Do you know what—"

"I know, Rowena!" Helga interrupted. "I know… and yes, I'm terrified." She hugged herself tightly, her shoulders trembling. "But then I think about Raine—about what going through right now, about what'll happen to her if we do nothing—and I can't stand it. I won't just sit here and watch!"

She straightened, turning to Rowena with fierce resolve. "I'm ready to fight, for Raine and for Godric. They're our friends, and I'll do whatever it takes. What about you?"

Rowena hesitated, torn between logic and loyalty. Her sapphire eyes flickered with conflict before she groaned, her frustration spilling out in an exasperated sigh. "Helga… I…" She pinched the bridge of her nose before finally relenting.

"Fine. Fine! But hear me clearly, Godric," she said, turning her sharp gaze to him. "This is it. One time—just this one time—and then we're done. Us Ravenclaws have never been involved in Clan politics, and I refuse to be the first to change that. Am I understood?"

Godric's lips curled into a grateful smile as he stood, his crimson eyes meeting hers. "Thank you," he said sincerely. He looked at each of them, his friends, his allies. "All of you."

Salazar folded his arms, a sly smirk tugging at his lips. "I had a feeling you'd come around. After all, who can resist the allure of The Congregation?"

"Oh, do shut up, Salazar," Rowena snapped, shooting him a sharp glare. "Not everything has to be a spectacle for your amusement."

Helena let out a deep sigh, her tone measured and serious. "Alright, now that we're all on the same page, the next step is clear," she said. "It's time to get you properly aligned with The Congregation."

"Thank you, Helena, you won't—" Godric began.

Helena raised a hand, cutting him off. "But before you say anything else, I need you to be absolutely sure this is what you want," she said. Her sharp brown eyes locked onto his.

"This isn't a game, Godric. Once you commit, there's no going back. No take-backs, no half-measures. The rules of The Congregation are as unyielding as they are binding." She leaned forward slightly, her gaze piercing. "And if you lose…"

Godric drew a sharp breath, his jaw tightening. "Then, I'm just going to have to win."

The fire crackled softly, the only sound in the heavy silence that followed. The gravity of the decision settled over the group like a thick shroud. Finally, Salazar broke the quiet.

"That settles it," he said, his green eyes gleaming with determination. "Now, let the games begin."