Chapter Eighteen
Godric Gryffindor
"Godric what have I told you about wandering off!" the boys mother called.
"I'll be fine mother relax!" the twelve year old called across the windy moor in the east of Scotland.
"Mother, mother look! Father's home!" his little sister Geniveve shouted. There was Lord Gregory riding up on his "valient steed" Hazel, who was 17 years old and a little battle worn. Godric had always admired his father, he strong head of the Gryffindor household and a member of the famous (and sometimes infamous) Warlock'c Council.
***
Three years later.
"Godric." his father whispered as if it hurt even to say one word.
"Yes father?" the teen asked.
"Take Azrael it is yours." a dying man said to his son.
"I cannot take it." Godric insisted, "You'll be better soon and we'll go out and fight evil, like you used to say when I was young."
"Son, both you and I know the truth. I will never be well."
"Father..." Godric said.
"Take it, take the sword of your ancestors, Azrael, Lord of Death." Gregory said with great effort and became consumed by a violent coughing fit. If only a healer had been in town...
"But--"
"Take care of your mother, don't let anyone defile the name of Gryffindor, I trust you my son. Oh, I almost forgot, go to the Council and tell them what has become of me. Good bye Godric."
"Father do not say good bye, you are still here! There's still hope!"
"Hope has gone." his father muttered. Godric stood up and wiped a tear away angrily. He hated his father in that moment for giving up on the one thing he had always told him was there and, though he knew he would regret it later, turned away with out another word.
***
He bid his mother and sister goodbye and mounted Nutmeg, his bay mare. His father passed on not a day from their conversation and Godric was to go inform the Council of his demise. He felt for Azrael and held the metal to his tanned skin. The brown eyes glanced around. It was a 17 day's ride to the Headquarter's and he decided that he would stop at the town of Greenwich to rest.
***
"What?"
"I would like you to join us, as a ranger. They are eventually crowned knights and your father always wanted that for you, of course it depends on what you want young Gryffindor." the old Head Warlock, Lord Overwood said.
"A ranger? Yes, I will join."
"Good, very good, you will go far my friend, just like your father."
***
"My name is Salazar Slytherin." the young man said.
"I'm called Godric Gryffindor."
"Gregory's son? My father admired yours very much, saved his life many times."
"Your Simon's son? Yes I thought I'd heard the name before..."
"Salazar!"a girl with yellow hair said coming up to the black haired youth.
"Helga, this is Godric Gryffindor."
"Gregory's son? Oh lovely." the girl said smiling. Inwardly Godric groaned, he would hate to be known as "Gregory's son" for the rest of his life. His train of thought was cut short as an arrow wizzed past his ear and embebbed itself in a tree, three inches from Salazar's head.
"Darn, missed!" he heared a girl's voice say.
"Ravenclaw!" Salazar roared.
"Sorry, geez, you know if I was really aiming you'd be dead." The girl said, she had long black hair that went to her waist and blue eyes.
"Whatever, Rowena this is Godric, Godric, this is Rowena."
"Hello Godric."
End of chapter Eighteen |