Author's note: I researched what I could (me=historical accuracy stickler), but I only know so much about the 10th century. I'll also say I am a Gryffindor, but the bias presented here is intentional. The founders had to have had strong ideas about the Houses. Here is Gryffindor's.
Pronunciation guide: Wicing (Viking). Aoibheann (EE-van). The rest of the names are English actually, so pronounce them however you'd like.
L'Épée de Godric Gryffondor
(The Sword of Godric Gryffindor)
1.
Godric Gryffindor leaned back in his seat, taking in the sight before him. Had he ever thought his life would come to this? The Great Hall clattered with the sounds of dinner as four long tables filled with nearly thirty students in total ate and drank and talked. And at one end of the hall, another long table stretched across to seat the four Heads of House.
No, Godric never would have pictured something like this. Something so serene, so peaceful. This wasn't anything like the life of a warrior he had lived for so long. Shifting, he felt the taut skin of an old wound from Maldon that had never healed properly. Well, at least he'd gotten the chance to pay back in kind the wicing who had given it to him, before that stupid Byrhtnoþ had decided no more magic. Bloody bastards, the both of them.
"Are you well, Sir Gryffindor?" the lovely lassy to his left asked. Smiling, Helga Hufflepuff radiated happiness as she placed her golden cup down. He returned the kindness with a kiss to the hand.
"Of course I am, when fine ladies such as you are my company."
The lovely witch blushed before turning her attention to one of the boys in her House who had approached her. What was his name? Willard, that was it. A good boy, Godric thought, still holding Hufflepuff's hand, just not enough courage in him. But loyal till the end, that was for sure. Those students did love Hufflepuff.
And what was not to love? The madam was kind to all of Hogwarts's students, treating them all equally, which, while not something Godric was capable of, he admired her for. Helga had captured his thoughts when he'd first met her, but she was too angelic for his liking. She was, simply put, a good person. No bad thoughts. No cruel comebacks. Just happiness and love for all.
Sometimes it was too much for him to handle.
Sighing, Godric took the hand of the lady on his right, the lovely Rowena Ravenclaw, and graced it too with a kiss. Now this was a woman not to mess with, a rare beauty to be tamed by no one. Godric liked the challenge.
His kiss warranted only for Ravenclaw to turn her sneer momentarily upon the fiery knight before resuming her conversation with the warlock on her other side. Even as Godric held her hand, she leaned farther from him, towards Salazar Slytherin. Whatever he was saying seemed to have her entranced, which only made Godric's lust for her grow, though he knew better than to act on it.
Ravenclaw had given, in his opinion, the most so far for the new school. She had picked the location, drawn up the plans, found the workers who would build the castle. The protections on the magnificent fortress, the soaring mountains and dazzling lake, she had not left out one little detail.
Save, Godric thought with a smirk, to pay attention to her daughter. At the table of the House of Ravenclaw, the young Helena eyed her mother carefully. Oh yes, just as wild and untamable as her mother.
There was a hissing noise, which caused Godric to roll his eyes. That bloody snake with his bloody Parseltongue, trying to woo Ravenclaw. Slytherin should have known that if Godric Gryffindor had wanted the woman's attentions, he would have won them already. It would have been no competition at all.
Between two beautiful and strong witches, a hand each for his own, Godric looked out over the students. The Hufflepuffs all laughed at something Willard seemed to have said. The Ravenclaws pointed to books while gently sipping at their wine, only Helena diverting her attention from her studies to steal looks at her mother and her mother's suitor.
On the far wall, the Slytherins seemed to be discussing the politics of the day. Godric smirked; he could teach them something about that. Half the reason Hugh Capet sat on the French thrown was Godric's doing, though if he kept up his battle with the pope in Rome, who knew how long his reign would last? The youngest student at Hogwarts, Edith, sat quietly amongst her fellow Slytherins, stealing glances to check for her father's approval. As if the Slytherin girl was destined for anything less than great things. On her looks and talent alone, Godric could see a queen in the making.
Godric would have picked her for his own House, had she been anyone else's daughter. She was vain, yes. Proud, of course. Ambitious, the very definition of it. But Edith was also outspoken and daring, something both Godric and Slytherin had always appreciated. No, if she was to have gone somewhere besides the House of Gryffindor, her father's House was what Godric wanted. It was the only other House he could trust, and it would have made her mother proud, had she lived to see this day.
Lazily returning to the object of his original attention, Godric looked straight ahead. The sea of red and gold before him never failed to fill him with excitement. Oh yes, these were witches and wizards he could trust without hesitation. They may have been the smallest House in numbers, but Godric knew each and every student. They were his children, his five brave and strong Gryffindors.
They were the only family he had. He would die for them.