The Marauders: A Hogwarts Tale

Chapter 4: A Tale Of The Dragon & The Vegetable Patch

The carriage bumped gently along the cobblestone road, the rhythmic rattling blending with Godric's lively storytelling. His companions leaned in, captivated by his tale.

"It was a Hungarian Horntail," Godric began, his voice laced with excitement, "but just a youngling. It came out of nowhere, tearing through my neighbor's chickens like they were nothing before barreling into my uncle's prized cabbages."

Salazar arched a skeptical eyebrow, folding his arms. "A Horntail? In England?" he asked, his tone dubious. "Highly unlikely. Hungarian Horntails rarely stray that far west. Perhaps you're mistaken."

"I swear on Charlemagne's Throne, Salazar!" Godric shot back, his crimson eyes narrowing. "I might not know much about magic or Avalon, but I know a Horntail when I see one. Besides, it's not the first time we've had dragons in my town."

Rowena tilted her head thoughtfully. "While rare, there have been instances of dragons appearing in places outside of their natural habitat," she said. "Uncommon, but not entirely impossible."

Godric nodded, pressing on. "Anyway, it was headed straight for the sheep when my Uncle Gareth stepped in. He told everyone to find shelter and ordered the guards to seal off the area."

The air in the carriage grew tense, the story pulling his friends deeper into its folds.

"Oh, oh, and then?" Helga prompted, practically bouncing in her seat with anticipation.

Godric's voice dropped a notch, his tone grave. "Uncle Gareth... he faced that beast with nothing but his sword and his wits. But dragon scales—they're tougher than dwarven-forged steel."

Rowena's sapphire eyes widened, her hand flying to her mouth. "Godric... surely he didn't..."

"No, thank the stars," Godric said quickly, shaking his head. "He fought valiantly, but the dragon's tail caught him, sent him crashing through our cottage wall. For a moment, I thought..." His voice faltered, a somber note taking hold. "I thought I'd lost him."

A heavy silence settled over the group, broken only by the muffled sounds of the bustling streets outside the carriage.

"And then?" Salazar asked, leaning forward, his emerald eyes gleaming with interest.

"I... I don't know how I did it," Godric admitted, staring down at his hands as though they held the answer. "One moment, I was running to Uncle Gareth's side, and the next, magic just burst out of me." His voice grew stronger, a spark of wonder returning. "Sent that dragon packing!"

"By the Old Gods!" Helga exclaimed; her amber eyes wide. "Just like that?"

"Just like that," Godric affirmed with a grin. "And wouldn't you know it? Headmaster Blaise was passing through at that very moment. Saw the whole thing, he did."

"Well, the headmaster does have an uncanny knack for being in the right place at the right time," Rowena mused, tapping her chin thoughtfully.

Godric's hand rested on the hilt of his sword, which leaned against the seat beside him. "After the incident, the headmaster invited me to Excalibur," he began. "At first, I didn't want to go. Leaving the moors behind... leaving my uncle... it felt wrong."

The others watched him intently, the hum of the carriage filling the brief silence.

"But Uncle Gareth insisted," Godric continued, a faint smile softening his features. "He said it was an opportunity I couldn't afford to pass up. Still, he asked for a year—to set things in order, as he put it. When the time finally came, he handed me this sword." Godric's voice dipped, a flicker of emotion breaking through. "He told me how proud he was... and how my parents would have been proud too."