The Wands
“Aghhh!” A girl screamed.
The scream echoed from the Slytherin girls’ dormitories. The boys shot up, terrified, and ran to the common room. Another scream followed. Realising it came from the girls' room, they looked at each other uncertainly—they were forbidden from entering. One boy suggested fetching Professor Slytherin. Osprey went. He had just left the common room and stepped into the main corridor when Salazar approached, looking thunderous.
“What the blazes is going on?” Salazar roared.
“Sir,” Osprey cried, pointing, “it’s the girls! It’s coming from their room!”
“Back inside, Osprey,” Salazar commanded.
They both entered the common room. Salazar saw about five boys in their nightclothes, looking terrified. Without a word, he strode to the girls' dormitory corridor and knocked on the bedroom door. There was no response, only more screaming.
Salazar opened the door. A girl, half in bed, was screaming and flailing helplessly. Above her, Peeves hovered in midair, pulling her hair and teasing her incessantly. Another girl was beside her, trying to wrestle the hair out of Peeves’ hands.
“Ickle little girlies!” Peeves cackled. “Welcome to the castle! Give your hair a whirly. What a little rascal!”
“Peeves,” Salazar roared, brandishing his wand, “unhand that girl at once!”
Peeves blew a raspberry at him. Salazar pointed his wand and uttered an incantation. A sharp burst of air shot out and hit Peeves square on the nose. He dropped the girl’s hair and pirouetted in the air, coming to rest inches from Salazar.
“Oh,” Peeves groaned and sulked, “not in the mood, are we?”
“Peeves, you are not to enter the students’ dormitories,” Salazar commanded. “Especially when they are supposed to be sleeping. Do I make myself clear?” He rose to his full height.
Peeves pouted, kicked over a chair, and said, “You know you’re boring when you’re a goody two-shoes,” before zooming off.
Salazar tried to calm the two girls and explain who the floating man was. They should have informed the students about the resident poltergeist yesterday, but somehow it had slipped their minds.
*
High in one of the towers, all was silent except for a few birds twittering outside and the heavy breathing of Henry. Three boys lay sprawled out, their limbs at various angles, their blankets covering them to varying degrees on three red and gold beds. Fyfe’s blond hair poked out as his face lay planted against the pillow. Perry lay face up, one hand near his head, with a soft look upon his face. There was a tap on the door.
A quiet voice whispered from behind it, “Fyfe! Fyfe! Wake up.”
Another tap, and then the same voice spoke, “Guys! You’ve got to get up, now!”
“Tell your brother, Fyfe,” Henry groaned with annoyance, “to go away.”
At last, there was movement in the older Gryffindor boy’s room as the boys twisted over and covered their faces and ears with various objects.
“Tell him yourself!” Fyfe yawned back.
The sun was well and truly up, shining brightly through the window despite the drapes. The boy’s wishes seemed answered as the knocking ceased.
“We should probably get up,” Perry said, feeling slightly more concerned than the others. “It is our first proper day.”
Perry got out of bed and started making a concerted effort to find his robes and get dressed. The other two boys just groaned and turned over onto their pillows. It was the first day they’d ever had without a parent or a job forcing them to get up.
“Professor Gryffindor seems alright,” Fyfe said, at last sitting up. “Better than that Slytherin guy. I wonder how they picked which houses we went in.”
“Well, they seem to have put families together, haven’t they? There’s you and the Redferns -” Henry joined in.
“Not us, though,” Perry objected. “I wonder why they split us up?” He looked a little worried as he said this.
Just then, the door burst open. Godric charged in, fully dressed and wide awake.
“Come on, lads!” Godric commanded.
He flicked his wand, causing the remaining blankets to fly off the boys in a fashion very reminiscent of Agatha.
“This isn’t a holiday. It’s breakfast time,” Godric exclaimed and threatened, “if you can’t get up in time, you can come down looking like that!”
Fyfe yawned, “Sir, how did you get so good at magic if you didn’t have a school to go to?”
Godric looked a little taken aback, then buoyed by the compliment, sat down. He thought about it for a while and looked straight at the boys.
“I don’t know,” he admitted honestly. “I don’t remember my parents much; they were killed by a dragon.”
“The one you slew?” Perry asked, with great curiosity.
“Yes,” he replied, and the boys gasped in amazement. “I was out on the streets then. I didn’t have any other family, so I had to leave the village I grew up in and travel about. I had to earn some money somehow. I went and performed, town to town,” Godric said, now getting into the stride of his storytelling. “I would do magic tricks and try to get people to throw their coins into my hat. I had to learn to do some pretty impressive tricks, but they couldn’t be too obviously magical, of course. I never stayed too long. I enjoyed it, but it was pretty rough in the winter and in the rain. You didn’t know where you’d be sleeping each night. Then one day I came to a village where I met this boy who could do the tricks I could do. That was Salazar—I mean, Professor Slytherin. He took me to his house, and we became best friends. I never left. We spent most days playing with magic and inventing new things. Eventually, his father bought us both our first wands. He let us read his old scrolls and books. Then we spent most days practicing and dueling each other.”
“Dueling!” Fyfe exclaimed, impressed.
“Yes,” Godric laughed and raised a hand. “But only to practice. Never to hurt one another.”
The boys looked at him with great respect.
“Can you teach us?” Henry implored eagerly.
“Yes!” Godric laughed. “Of course, that’s what you’re here for.”
They carried on talking for a good deal of time. Godric, spurred on by their enthusiasm, shared all his stories, retelling his more daring escapades. In turn, they asked every question that popped into their heads.
“Then this manticore came,” Godric exclaimed dramatically. “One of the most vicious creatures I’ve ever seen! Its teeth were like daggers. The stinger on its tail was easily the size of my fist. It charged straight at us, ready to sink its teeth in. Somehow, I managed to shield us with my wand. We were moments away from death!”
The boys marvelled at him, enthralled.
“But I want to hear all about you!” Godric said, raising his arms.
The door flew open. Rowena stepped in, her long black robes filling the doorway. Her lips were pursed, and her hair piled high on top of her head. She looked like a vulture, staring down her prey.
“Professor Gryffindor,” she said with icy, precise calmness, “kindly remember that you came up here to retrieve these boys for breakfast. I suggest you bring them down immediately before they miss the wand ceremony as well as breakfast, and you become the first person to lose your house points.”
Without waiting for a response, she turned on the spot and exited the room. There was stunned silence before all four boys followed her sheepishly. None of them wanted to face her wrath again.
The Great Hall tables had been moved aside. There was an audible buzz as students waited, whispering furiously to one another. A small, ornate table had been erected in the centre, and a large number of long, thin boxes had been piled on top of it. An eccentric man in robes stood next to them. His hair was grey and wild, and his fingers long and bony. He was talking to Salazar and Helga as Rowena and Godric walked in. Salazar looked up, a flush of pleasure warming inside of him.