The snow falls softly against the walls of the Hogwarts castle, and as the days pass I spend more and more time awaiting Godric’s return. It is nearly time for the Yuletide feast and I find my patience wearing thin with him. I do not care if he comes back with stories of courage and chivalry to tell the young ones. I just wish the four of us could be united once more.
I become worried as well, as it is not like Godric to miss such an important event. I spend days waiting by the window, for his form to shimmer onto the grounds again. Salazar tells me that I acting like a fool, and that if Godric is involved in any nasty situations it is because he rushed off without giving any further thought to the matter. Rowena does not say much, but I think that in her hearts of hearts, she agrees with Salazar.
The day of the feast creeps up on us, and soon we are lining up into the Hall to enjoy our meals. I worry about the young ones too, sometimes. Some of them are so thin when they join the school, but it pleases me when they leave it sufficiently plumper.
It was a difficult task decorating the Hall without Godric’s assistance, but in the end, we had to manage with what we had.
The students slowly come in and sit at their tables. There are not many of them yet, as we still have not perfected a way to discover Muggleborns, but I hope that in the future there will be more. In the future…Rowena tells me that I dream too much, that it is better to focus on the present than to think about what will become of Hogwarts many years from now. But what is the point of building a dream and not having the foresight to look at the years ahead?
Rowena, Salazar and I take our places at the Head Table. If the students grow in number we will have to look into additional teachers at the school as it is already difficult for the four—no, the three--of us to teach them all the lessons we have to offer.
The doors creak, and for a moment I dare hope that it is Godric coming back to us, but after a few more moments I must admit that it was only the whispers of the wind.
We stand behind our chairs wearing our ceremonial robes in the colours that we have chosen for our Houses. Salazar looks imposing in his threads of green and silver, and the blue and bronze colours in Rowena’s robe look beautiful in contrast with her skin.
I, the plain one, try not to think about what the yellow looks like on me.
Salazar, who is on my left, lifts up his goblet, which is filled with wine. “May good health be with our students forever,” he murmurs, taking a sip. The students at all four tables mimic his actions with pumpkin juice.
The goblet is then passed onto me. “May we all remain kind and whole throughout these dark winter months.” I take a hearty sip and the students do the same.
Rowena stares into the depths of the goblet, as if she is trying to find the correct words to say, maybe to explain the absence of the man who should be standing next to her. She may think Godric is a fool, but she does not wish him any harm. “And may we all remain safe,” she says, draining the rest of the goblet. She sets it down on the table and the students seem to have finished all their juice.
It is not long before the food appears on the table, but I am heartened to see all the students tucking in merrily, with the exception of a handful of Godric’s house, who keep glancing at the table and not seeing three of their respected teachers, but only the absence of one.
Soon, everyone is full and the meal has been wiped from our plates. Rowena stands up, and smiles at all the students, but the biggest smile seems to be reserved from the ones of her very own House. It is subtle, and I do not think that anyone notices. “Now that we have had our fill,” she says softly, “we will sing to keep the dark spirits from overshadowing our lives.”
A look passes some of the older students faces’, as if they think it is foolish of Rowena, an adult woman, to believe in spirits of the dark any longer. However, the students do not know that dark spirits are not the malevolent monstrosities that we sometimes dream of in our worst nightmares, but that true dark spirits are the ones that I can see stealthily covering the grounds of the school, that threaten to tear us all apart if we do not remain strong. United.
Rowena’s voice is lyrical and soon she engages the students in a song that I have never heard before. I assume she has conjured the words in a place where the students are able to see them, but where I cannot.
“…the light on the candles shall let us glimpse hope in the dark.”
The song fades and Rowena looks pleased. Salazar gives her a look full of questions, and she mutters, “I wrote it myself. Did you like it?”
Salazar says nothing.
“That was some fine singing,” comes a voice that I have not heard in so long.
“Godric?” I whisper to myself in astonishment. “You’ve returned?”
He could not have possibly heard me, so instead he struts into the centre of the Hall. He must have opened the doors while the students were singing, for me not to hear the doors open at all.
The students are all giving him looks of great astonishment, but I could not view him very well from my seat as my eyesight is not as well as I would like it to be.
Rowena sense this and leans over to me, whispering into my ear, “He has a sword,” her voice a mix of awe and disdain.
That explains why all the students are fawning over him as if he had slain a dragon. He comes closer to the head of the table, so I can see the sword clearly in the light. His name is engraved into it, and at the hilt there is a ruby.
“You have a sword?” Salazar asks Godric contemptuously. “What need do you have of a sword when you have magic at your fingertips?”
Godric smiles proudly, his fingers curling around the hilt of the sword. Slowly, he lifts it into the air and the students seem to cheer with fervor.
“I soon discovered that I could not defeat the dragon with magic alone,” he says to Salazar, resting the sword on the table.
Dragon? There was a dragon involved? “Pray tell, what have you been doing, running off and dallying with dragons?” I ask.
Godric’s smile does not fade as he stares straight at Salazar. “Why do you not tell her about the dragon, then, Salazar?”
Maybe I imagine it but the side of Salazar’s mouth rises for barely a second before he resumes his usual stony appearance, and says nothing.
The students are now rising out of their seats and running up to our table. In one swift movement, Rowena stands and instructs them to sit down again, and they do so reluctantly, but not before I see many envious looks directed at the sword.
“Salazar told me how he could not defeat this dragon he had once insulted.”
I look skeptically, back and forth between Salazar and Godric. “Insulted?” I ask.
“Well, no,” Godric shakes his head. “Insulted is not the correct word to use. He crept up on it while it was still sleeping and tickled its belly.”
I am not quite sure how Salazar managed to sneak up on a sleeping dragon, and I find myself not wanting to know why he tickled its belly. Rowena, however, being the inquisitive one, asks, “Why?” She does need to expound on the question as it is quite clear to Salazar what she is asking.
Begrudgingly, Salazar starts, “It was in my young and foolish days.” Godric snorts, and then looks delighted at this confession. “Yes, Godric, I was a fool once too. However,” Salazar says, his eyes rising to meet Godric’s, “I outgrew it.” His tone is challenging, but Godric does not rise to the bait. His smile simply slips a notch.
“Ah, where was I? Yes. One of my dear friends wagered that I could not tickle a sleeping dragon.”
“What was the wager?” Rowena asks haughtily, as if placing bets on dragons is quite beneath her.
Salazar closes his eyes briefly. “My pride.”
At this, Rowena smiles, and when she speaks the haughty tone is gone. “That was not a very good deal.”
“I do not have to be told that,” Salazar says, the silver trim of his robes glinting in the light from the candles. “The dragon never did like me after that. Then, a little over a month ago, its owner wrote me a letter, informing me that the dragon had escaped.”
Rowena starts to say something, but is cut off by Godric as he fingers the hilt of his sword. “Seeing how I am still ‘young and foolish’, I defeated the dragon for Salazar so it will cause him fear no longer,” Godric tells them, an almost impish smile growing on his face.
Salazar glowers at Godric, but even I can see his eyes are glittering. Thinking this banter has gone on for quite long enough, I assure Godric, “I am certain that was Salazar was not afraid of the dragon.”
Turning his face away from Salazar so that the man cannot see his lips, he whispers, “That is not what he told me.” Only Rowena and I were able to hear him.
Looking as though he is about to bring up the conversation again, Salazar draws in a deep breath. However, he is interrupted by slow chanting, which gradually builds in volume. At first I cannot make out the words, but the students seem to be chanting ‘Gryffindor, Gryffindor’ over and over again.
One of the oldest students, a burly boy who is almost a man, lifts up his goblet and yells over the voices, “For Gryffindor!”
His friend sitting on his left jumps up onto the bench and holds up his own goblet. “For Gryffindor!” they shout together.
Soon, the other students realise what is going on and they all rise, goblets in the air. “For Gryffindor!”
We look at each other, unsure of what our reaction should be. But then Salazar stands at the end of the table, a small smile carefully engraved on his face. “For Gryffindor,” he says quietly, so quietly I fear for a moment that the students will not hear, but they do. The Hall grows quiet as Salazar waits for me to stand.
I look appraisingly at the students over the rim of my goblet, and then smile warmly at Godric. Slowly, he smiles back. “For Gryffindor,” I say softly. I find that my annoyance with him has quite abated now that he is safe and at home again.
“For Gryffindor,” Rowena announces, holding her goblet up in the air with so many others.
We wait almost anxiously to see what Godric will do. Slowly he stands up and he is almost about to say something when we all cheer in unison. “Gryffindor! Gryffindor! Gryffindor!”
The words ring through my head, and I look at Godric, his sword raised majestically in the air, then at the faces of the elated students; their smiles are wide and their eyes sparkle with laughter. In unison, we all take our drink.
As we end the feast and usher the students off to bed, Rowena smiles mysteriously at me, a knowing, calculating smile. Then I remember the song she sang with the students, and how they were to chase the evil spirits away, to stop them from overshadowing our lives.
Today at the feast I noticed no tension; our bonds of friendship had felt as strong and secure as ever. Maybe Rowena’s song will work after all. I hope that it always will.
A/N: The dragon-tickling, of course, is inspired from Hogwarts' motto, which translated into English reads 'Never tickle a sleeping dragon'.