The Marauders: A Hogwarts Tale

Professor Eridan's expression grew more solemn. "Ah, the third branch," he said, pacing slowly across the classroom. "The Wandering Sea. They are the keepers of magical history, lore, and knowledge. Most notably, they are the guardians of the Great Library of Alexandria."

Rowena's eyes lit up with a spark of excitement. "The Great Library of Alexandria?" she repeated, almost breathless. "By Hecate, I've read about it! It's said to contain all the knowledge known to mankind, spanning across ages and civilizations!"

"Quite so, Miss Ravenclaw," Professor Eridan confirmed, his gaze softening at her enthusiasm. "The Acolytes of the Wandering Sea dedicate their lives to a singular purpose: locating, gathering, and preserving all relics, artifacts, tomes, and records of knowledge, whether they pertain to magical innovations or historical accounts. Each piece is meticulously restored and safeguarded within the Library's hallowed halls."

He paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in before continuing. "Though the Library is open to seekers of knowledge, there are parts of its archives that remain accessible only to a privileged few. The deepest recesses are said to house knowledge so ancient, so potent, that it is kept secret—even from most of the magical community—for the safety of all."

The classroom was steeped in an almost reverent silence, the gravity of Professor Eridan's words settling over the students like a tangible weight. Godric furrowed his brow, his crimson eyes narrowing thoughtfully as he pieced it all together. Finally, he spoke, his tone reflecting both awe and curiosity. "So, they're like… the past, present, and future of magic?"

Professor Eridan's lips curved into a proud smile. "An astute observation, Mister Gryffindor," he said warmly. "Five points to Ignis for your insight." He clasped his hands behind his back, pacing slowly across the room. "The Wandering Sea safeguards our magical legacy, ensuring that the lessons of history are preserved, the innovations of the present are understood, and the path to the future is guided with care. Their work is vital in maintaining balance within our world."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the class, who were all hanging on his every word. "Together with the Clock Tower, which oversees magical governance, and the Atlas Institute, which drives our magical advancements, these three branches ensure that magic serves as a force for the betterment of society rather than being abused for personal gain."

Rowena's quill hovered over her parchment as she absorbed the information, her eyes gleaming with admiration. "It's a delicate balance, isn't it?" she said, more to herself than anyone else. "Each branch complements the other, creating a system that both protects and propels magic forward."

"Precisely, Miss Ravenclaw," Eridan said with an approving nod. "Each branch is as vital as the next. Like the points of a triangle, they support one another, ensuring stability and progress."

As Professor Eridan continued his explanation, the students leaned in, their quills poised over parchment, the weight of the lesson not lost on them. The room buzzed with an undercurrent of curiosity and respect, each student hanging on the professor's words like they were secrets to unlocking untold power.

Helga nudged Rowena gently, leaning closer to whisper. "Do you think the Great Library has a recipe section?" she asked, her amber eyes sparkling with excitement. "Imagine all the magical cooking tricks we could learn! Cakes that float, pies that sing, oh, the possibilities!"

Rowena sighed, though the corners of her lips twitched into a smile. "Only you, Helga, could connect the greatest repository of knowledge in the world to dessert recipes," she said, shaking her head fondly.

From the other side, Salazar leaned closer to Godric. "I wonder if the Library has a restricted section," he mused, his smirk as sharp as ever. "Imagine the forbidden knowledge they keep locked away. Knowledge is power, my friend."

Godric turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "Careful, Salazar," he said, his tone both amused and warning. "That kind of thinking might earn you a visit from an Auror. And somehow, I doubt they'd find your curiosity charming."

Before Salazar could reply, Professor Eridan clapped his hands sharply, drawing all attention back to the front. His commanding presence immediately silenced the murmurs.

"While I appreciate your enthusiasm, let us not stray too far from the matter at hand," he said. "As fascinating as the Three Branches are, their deeper intricacies are best left to Professor Lotho's lectures. My task today is to guide you through the mechanics and, equally importantly, the ethics of the Obliviate charm."

"Now," he continued, "open your textbooks to page two hundred and thirty-seven. Let us dissect the incantation and delve into the precise wand movements required. Remember, precision is paramount in all magical endeavors."

The lesson continued, but the whispers of curiosity about the wider world of magic lingered in the room like an unseen presence, fueling the students' imaginations and aspirations.

****

The sonorous chime of the clock tower reverberated through the classroom, signaling the end of the period. A ripple of motion and sound followed as students hurriedly gathered their belongings, the hum of excited chatter mingling with the occasional scrape of chairs against the floor. The lesson's weight lingered, sparking a mix of intrigue and unease in some, while others seemed relieved to be moving on.

Godric, his crimson eyes thoughtful, slung his bag over his shoulder and adjusted the belt of his scabbard, the familiar weight of his longsword strapped across his back. As he stepped into the bustling hallway alongside his friends, he couldn't shake the sense of being watched. Turning his head slightly, his gaze landed on the two men from before—representatives of the Clock Tower. Their sharp eyes were fixed on him, more specifically, on the sword glinting faintly over his shoulder.

A flicker of unease tightened his chest, but he brushed it off with a determined shrug. Let them look, he thought. He turned his attention back to his friends, their faces alight with varying degrees of curiosity and contemplation.

"Well," Godric said. "That was fascinating." His hand instinctively rested on the hilt of his sword. "Memory Charms aside, I never knew the wizarding world in Avalon had such intricate governance."

"Of course it does, Godric," Rowena replied, her tone brisk as she shifted the stack of books cradled in her arms. Her midnight-blue Ventus robes swished as she walked, her expression a mix of pride and patience. "Magic isn't just the foundation of Avalon—it's the very thread that weaves our society together. Naturally, its governance is far more intricate than it appears to the uninitiated."

Salazar smirked, his pace leisurely, hands tucked into the folds of his robes. "Intricate, yes. But let's not mistake bureaucracy for brilliance. I, for one, can't say I'm inspired by the notion of endless rules and red tape."

"Of course, you'd say that," Rowena shot back, her tone sharp and measured as her piercing blue eyes locked onto Salazar. "But rules exist for a reason. Without them, we'd be no better than beasts. Chaos would reign, and society would crumble under its weight."

Salazar arched a perfectly shaped brow, his smirk widening as if her words were precisely what he'd hoped for. "For someone who claims to have such disdain for The Congregation, you do seem to quote their motto effortlessly," he said with a low chuckle

Rowena bristled, her lips pressing into a thin line, but before she could retort, Salazar continued. "And besides," he said, leaning slightly closer, his green eyes gleaming with mischief, "chaos isn't always a bad thing. It's the birthplace of change, after all."

"Change," Rowena replied, her tone icy, "is meaningless without direction or purpose. Chaos alone breeds destruction, Salazar. It's rules, structure, and knowledge that channel change into something meaningful."

Salazar shrugged lazily, his smirk never faltering. "Perhaps. But knowledge without the courage to disrupt the status quo is just a collection of pretty words and empty promises."

Helga sighed dramatically, stepping between the two with a grin that could melt stone. "Honestly, you two, must you always turn every conversation into a debate? I swear, you could argue about the color of the sky." She waved her hands as if to clear the air. "Why don't we just agree that rules are important, but a little chaos keeps life interesting?"

Rowena huffed but relented, while Salazar inclined his head with a mockingly gracious smile. "As you wish, my dear Helga," he said. "But don't think for a moment that this discussion is over."

"It never is with you," Rowena muttered under her breath, though a faint smile tugged at her lips.

Their laughter echoed softly as they continued down the corridor, the faint sound of students chatting and footsteps on stone filling the air. But as they turned a corner, Godric couldn't help but glance back one more time. The representatives from the Clock Tower were still standing at the end of the hall, their intense gazes unwavering. A flicker of unease returned, but Godric pushed it aside.

Whatever their interest, he'd face it head-on, just as he always did.

****

After lunch, the four friends entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, settling into their usual seats. The atmosphere crackled with anticipation, as today's lesson was rumored to delve into hexes—a topic that always got the students buzzing. The classroom, however, was notably chillier than Professor Eridan's. Professor Serfence, with his perpetually stoic demeanor, often claimed the cooler air kept students alert and built character—whatever that was supposed to mean.

"I most certainly hope we get to practice some counter-hexes today," Helga said brightly, brandishing her wand with enthusiasm. "I've spent weeks perfecting my Jelly-Legs Jinx reversal!"

"Helga, my dear, your enthusiasm for defense is commendable," Salazar said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. "But perhaps misplaced. The best defense, as they say, is a strong offense."

The classroom door creaked open suddenly, silencing the chatter as all eyes turned expectantly to the entrance. The students braced themselves for Professor Serfence's usual brooding entrance, but instead, Professor Workner appeared, carrying a hefty stack of books. His presence elicited murmurs of surprise.

He set the books down on the teacher's desk with care and turned to address the class, adjusting his glasses with his characteristic warmth. "Good afternoon, everyone," he greeted. "Just so you're aware, I will be filling in for Professor Serfence for the foreseeable future."

Rowena raised her hand immediately, her brow furrowed with concern. "Excuse me, Professor," she said, "but where's Professor Serfence? Is he alright?"

Workner inclined his head, acknowledging her question. "A fair inquiry, Miss Ravenclaw. Professor Serfence has been called away on a special assignment. The last I heard, he'll be gone for a week, perhaps two at most. There's no need for concern."

"Special assignment?" Godric leaned toward Salazar, lowering his voice. "What do you reckon that's about?"

Salazar's green eyes glinted with intrigue as he whispered back, "Remember what Professor Eridan mentioned earlier? About Professor Serfence being a former Auror for the Clock Tower? What he didn't mention was just how notorious he was."

Godric raised an eyebrow. "Notorious? In what way?"

Salazar smirked "Let's just say Serfence was a man respected by his colleagues and feared by his adversaries. There isn't a soul in Revel's End or the criminal underworld that doesn't tremble at the mention of his name. The whispers go deeper still—rumors that he wasn't just an Auror, but an Executioner."

"Executioner?" Godric frowned, a mix of curiosity and unease crossing his face. "What's that?"

"One of the more… infamous ranks within the Aurors," Salazar said, his tone dropping to a near-whisper, laced with intrigue. His words carried the weight of a forbidden secret. "Executioners are shrouded in mystery, their activities veiled from public knowledge due to the… nature of their work."

He leaned closer, his green eyes glinting with a conspiratorial gleam. "From what little I've managed to piece together, they're identified by their stark, unadorned porcelain masks. Plain white, save for the faintest sigil of the Clock Tower etched upon the forehead. These masks are the last thing their targets ever see."

Godric's brow furrowed, unease creeping into his expression. "And their… job description?"

Salazar's voice lowered even further. "They are tasked with delivering final justice," he said, his words deliberate and measured. "To those deemed irredeemable. No courts, no trials—just swift, decisive action."

He tilted his head, a wry smirk playing at his lips. "Let's just say, Serfence isn't someone you'd want to cross. If he was indeed an Executioner, then he's been places and seen things most of us could scarcely imagine."

Helga, wide-eyed, leaned in. "Do you think he's… you know… ever had to…" She trailed off, hesitant to finish her thought.

Rowena, her lips pressed into a thin line, shot Salazar a sharp look. "Speculation aside, we should remember that Professor Serfence has dedicated himself to teaching now. Whatever his past, he's here to ensure we don't end up on the wrong side of magic."

Salazar chuckled softly. "Ever the diplomat, Rowena. But even you must admit, the man's aura speaks for itself. He carries the weight of his past like a second shadow." He glanced toward Godric. "Still curious about why he's been called away?"

Godric didn't respond immediately, his gaze fixed thoughtfully ahead as Professor Workner began his lecture. The conversation lingered in his mind, unease mingling with a newfound sense of respect for the enigmatic Serfence.

Professor Workner tapped his wand lightly on the desk, the soft thud echoing through the chilly classroom. "Alright, everyone, let's settle down and begin," he said, his tone warm but commanding. "If I recall correctly, you had an assignment last week?"

"Yes, Professor," Rowena responded promptly, sitting up straighter, her quill poised above her parchment. "We were tasked with researching the etymology of common hexes and their corresponding counter-curses."

Salazar leaned forward, his lips curling into a sly smirk. "I trust we'll be practicing some of the more… enthralling hexes as well, Professor?" His voice was tinged with both eagerness and mischief.

Professor Workner chuckled softly, adjusting his glasses as he gave Salazar an amused look. "Ah, Mister Slytherin," he said, "your enthusiasm for the darker arts of defense is always notable. However, let's not get ahead of ourselves. We'll be sticking to the curriculum for now—though I assure you, it will be far from dull."