The Birthday
Chapter 1: The Birthday
Ten years had passed since the rugged, scrawny juggler had met the dark-haired boy. Now they had grown into men. Their appearances had changed, but their characters and natural dispositions remained unaltered. The red-headed juggling boy never had to take to the road again, finding a family and a home with the dark-haired boy.
It was the 24th June—Godric's birthday—and naturally, he got everything he wanted. Not that he didn’t always, and not that his friends ever minded, for who could ever say no to him?
Salazar Slytherin, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Helga Hufflepuff were particularly glad to celebrate that year, as Godric had just returned from a long, arduous, and dangerous journey.
The celebration took place at Rowena's home in Scotland. Rowena, the cleverest person her friends knew, was somehow distantly related to Salazar. Being of a similar age to Salazar and Godric, they had much to do with each other as they grew up.
They now surrounded the dark, wooden table, drinks swinging in hand. They were merry, Godric most of all. Even Rowena, usually stern and serious, seemed in good spirits, probably because she knew she would be rid of the boys for a while—they were setting out on another journey the next day.
Helga, with her broad Welsh accent and large spirit, was there too. She had helped make most of the food with Rowena’s mother, Agatha, a tiny but formidable woman hunched over the hearth, stirring a pot.
“Godric Gryffindor,” Salazar declared, raising his mug, “Dragonslayer!”
They all chimed in unison, “Godric Gryffindor, Dragonslayer!”
“That does have quite a ring to it!” Godric said, smiling shyly as the others drank.
“Sir Godric,” Salazar stated, “I always knew you’d make a better knight than a wizard.”
“I’m honoured!” Godric said, repeating to himself, “Sir Godric Gryffindor, Dragonslayer.”
“Oh, quick, don’t let him get started on that again,” Rowena teased, “or we’ll never hear the last of it!”
“Charming!” Godric cried in mock indignation. “After all the trouble I went to, for a half-decent tale to tell my friends.”
“It was half-decent,” Salazar said, “the first time we heard it.”
“But the hundredth time,” Helga added, “that was something else.”
“Well, you shan't have to put up with it for much longer,” Godric said, taking a deep drink, “and you’ll miss it when I'm off again, while Sal and I are in Greece. We’ll have new tales to tell when we get back, won’t we?” He winked at Salazar, who grinned back.
“I hear the women there are beautiful,” Helga sighed, wishing she could come too.
“And the men,” Agatha added, making everyone howl with laughter.
“Agatha!” Godric exclaimed in shock.
There was a purpose to their adventure though, and Rowena warned them sternly, "don’t you two forget about the school while you’re out there."
“How could we forget that?” Godric groaned. “That’s the whole reason we’re going. Isn’t it, Sal?”
“Sure it is!” Helga jested, smiling to herself.
“How are we supposed to teach the children,” Salazar reasoned, being mildly affronted, “if we don’t know anything?”
“You know perfectly well you two are the finest wandsmen in the country,” Rowena said matter-of-factly, “but yes, I do agree you should broaden your education.”
“Row,” Godric blushed, “that’s quite a compliment.”
“Well,” she flushed in return, “there will be nothing but the best for my institution.”
“Our institution,” Helga corrected her.
“Wand-waving, pot-stirring,” Agatha said, turning to them with a raised hand in exasperation. “Neglect the old ways at your peril!” She wagged her finger at them, looking fiercer than she probably meant to. “That will be the downfall of your school before it’s even begun if you’re not careful.”
A darkness seemed to descend on the room. She continued, “There are far more wonders and mysteries in this world than can be imagined, and can they all be studied in a school?” She scoffed. “The old ways will be forgotten and lost. Then where will the children be? Worse off than they were before.”
Agatha's words landed heavily on her listener's ears. Salazar, trying to alleviate his uneasiness, wondered how they could neglect a subject that couldn’t be studied but didn’t dare raise the point. Rowena, too, was troubled but was ready to counter with an argument. However, Godric spoke quicker.
“You are right, Agatha,” he said, and the room seemed to grow lighter again. “Of course, why don’t you teach too?”
“Me,” she laughed, fondly placing her warm hand on his cheek, “what a notion, Godric, at my age. Besides, could you afford me?”
They laughed again and continued eating the stew, which tasted earthy and delicious, heating their stomachs from the inside. The evening past by quickly, but their conversation inevitably turned back to the boys’ imminent trip.
“It will seem such an age before you come back,” Helga sighed, looking longingly across the table, she would miss the boys more than she was willing to admit.
“Our time will not be spent idly, Helga,” Rowena said, sitting up straighter. “We have things to do. We must find a location for the school.”
“I will be making enquiries about house-elves,” Helga said to herself as much as to the room. “I want us to devote as much time as possible to our pupils.”
“That sounds very admirable, my dear,” Agatha said, rising from the table. “But now, it’s time for bed. Those two boys have a full day ahead of themselves tomorrow.”
“Yes,” Godric agreed, yawning.
Helga started to clear the bowls. Salazar shuffled his stool back to get up.
“Wait,” Godric cried, “Rowena, you need to read my bowl!”
Helga knocked over a candle in fright. Agatha flicked her fingers, and it righted itself.
“Godric Gryffindor, the ‘Sight’ is not there for your amusement,” Rowena scolded.
“Please,” he pleaded, “it’s my birthday, it’s tradition!”
“Oh, very well,” she acquiesced, rolling her eyes.
Helga passed her the bowl. Godric smiled, his mouth open like a puppy dog.
She turned it around in her hands, looking intently at it. The room fell silent, waiting to find out what Rowena would say with bated breath.
“Right then,” she pondered, lips pursed. “I see a great fall. Mind yourself on the way out!”
She handed him back the bowl.
“Thanks, Row,” he beamed. “I certainly shall!”
They finished clearing away, and the girls bid the boys goodnight. The Ravenclaws had another room, but the girls slept there. The boys made their places to sleep on the floor. It was cosy, and the evening was warm.
Salazar was ready first. He crept under the blanket and straightened it out. He looked at Godric. He was like the radiant sun. Even if he was currently robeless, dancing and jiggling about to amuse Salazar. That ridiculous boy.
“Put your night clothes on!” Salazar grimaced.
Then he closed his eyes, a smile cracking across his face, despite himself.
“It’s nothing you ain’t seen before,” Godric winked, putting on some clothes.
“That doesn’t mean I have to see it again,” Salazar quipped, throwing him a blanket.
Godric, it wouldn’t even cross his mind to be shy. It was typical of him, of course, to be annoyingly average. Neither too big to gloat, nor too small to be embarrassed. He clambered into the space next to Salazar.
“Ready now?” Salazar asked, feigning annoyance.
“Yes,” he said, wriggling to get comfortable. “Oh wait, no!”
Then he pulled Salazar into a hug.
“Now I am!” Godric said, his voice filled with genuine warmth.
Godric beamed brighter than he had all evening. Infuriating, wasn’t it, Salazar thought.
“Thank you,” Godric said. “It’s been such a great birthday.”
“Well,” Salazar replied, folding his arms. “You know full well you deserve it.”
“I do, don’t I,” he grinned.
“Now, you’ve got seven months to plan mine.”
“Can’t wait for Greece,” Godric said excitedly. “The fun starts tomorrow!”
“Does it now?” Salazar raised his eyebrows. “Don’t let Rowena hear you say that.”
“Do you really think the women will be that pretty?” Godric asked seriously for the first time all day.
“I imagine so,” Salazar inhaled deeply. The topic pained him.
“We might even find one for you!” Godric teased.
“Wouldn’t that be a wonder. You do know I’m not interested in the fairer sex?”
“You’re probably quite wise not to be,” Godric reflected, as though stating some deep truth. “In my experience, they’re more hassle than they’re worth.”
“Quite.”
They lay in silence for some time, staring up at the thatched roof, listening to the sounds of the night around them, to each other breathing. Salazar could feel Godric’s big arm pressing into him, they were so close. Salazar thought about Godric's journey, his bravery, and the dragon he had slain.
“Godric,” Salazar said.
“Aye.”
“Tell me again,” he said earnestly. “Tell me how you did it. Tell me how you slayed the dragon!”
Godric thought for a moment. Why was he asking?
Then he said, “you know, don’t you! You don’t really want to hear that again, do you?”
“I do, honestly,” Salazar implored him. But, maybe he was asking too much, “or at least, tell me how it felt, how it feels.”
“I thought it’d feel great,” Godric said quietly, thinking honestly, “to kill it. But then, when I finally saw it thrashing about and it stopped, lifeless, I felt quite sorry for it, really, in the end. Poor thing. It was rather pathetic. I’ve felt so angry, for so long, that it took away my mother and father from me, that I hadn’t stopped to think. I suppose it was just doing what it was supposed to do.”
There was a moment's pause as the words were given time to sink in. Godric felt his stomach twist at the thought of it. It made him feel uncomfortable.
“It did deserve to die, though,” Salazar reminded him.
“Yes, maybe. I suppose so.”
Godric turned over.
“You’ve stopped it from being able to hurt other families. You were brave, courageous.”
There was another silence.
“Sal,” Godric said, turning back over to face him.
“Hmm.”
“When they write about us, in years to come—” he started.
“Yes,” Salazar looked at him, his brow creased as he wondered where this was going.
“When they write about all our adventures, about the school we are going to found, when it’s famous, and we are, they’ll write about us, won’t they?”
“They better.”
“They’ll write about the two of us, won’t they?” he said emphatically. “I hope they do. I hope they write about how we were the best of friends.”
“We’ll have to make sure they do.”
“I hope that people who read it know that, and can see themselves in it. I hope they have a best friend too.”
“Of course you do, Godric.”
“Goodnight, Salazar.”
“Goodnight, Godric.”
Godric fell soundly, peacefully, asleep almost instantly. Salazar watched him for a moment longer, feeling a surge of gratitude for their friendship. His heart, himself, how could he sum it up? Godric was the greatest, kindest soul he could have ever imagined.