A/N: Beater 2 of the Chudley Cannons checking in for Round 10 of Season 4 of the QLFC.
Prompts: character - Sir Cadogan, 4. (word) confined and 13. (word) eager
Word count (before A/N): 1,435 words
This is not my world or my characters. It's all J.K.'s.
"Braggarts and rogues, dogs and scoundrels, drive them out, Harry Potter, see them off!"*
Sir Cadogan came to a full stop as Harry Potter rounded the corner. There weren't any portraits on the next wall, so he couldn't follow the boy any further. Which was ridiculous in and of itself because this was a battle, and Sir Cadogan was eager to fight and defend Hogwarts just like anybody else.
So, instead, he turned and started pursing the portraits on the main floor. Naturally, the scallywags would take the castle through the front doors, brandishing their wands, shooting curse after curse. Of course Sir Cadogan would be needed there—at the heart of the action.
Brandishing his trusty sword, Sir Cadogan raced past scenes of mountains and hills, valleys and fields, dinner tables and balconies. Each portrait containing a new world, a different life.
When Sir Cadogan had first died, he thought about resurrecting as a ghost. But Merlin had warned him against such an existence. Merlin also said that, no doubt, as a well-known member of the Round Table, Sir Cadogan would live on for centuries. His portrait would suffice to tell the tale.
Sadly, somehow in the mess that is history, Sir Cadogan was lost. No one knew of his greatness, Muggle or magic. King Arthur's legends lived on, with Kay and Lancelot and Percival by his sides. Even bloody Gawain!
But not Cadogan.
As a whisper of a former person, the portrait-Cadogan didn't necessarily miss the life he once had. But still, with a consciousness only explained by magic, portrait-Cadogan felt an immense injustice had been bestowed upon him. He was definitely bitter about being forgotten. And when he would gloat about his times spent fighting that hag Morgan le Fay, the students didn't seem to notice or care. If he brought it up to the Wizard's Playing Chess painting, they always laughed.
And Gruna the Grand's portrait rolled her eyes when he mentioned he knew Merlin in the flesh.
But no matter! Now, on the day Lord Voldemort stormed the castle, Sir Cadogan would fight, fight, fight the brutes away. He would surely dismantle each beast like his dear friend Beowulf dismantled Grendel, and then, then!, the wizarding world would undoubtedly see just how important he was. Though confined to a two dimensional world of paintbrush strokes and charcoal sketches, Sir Cadogan still had life in him.
"Onward, brethren! We must defend our home, our castle, from the devil himself! Cast off your fears, and lay down your lives!"
The three children from the Baker's Family portrait stared up at the knight with wide, horrified eyes. Sir Cadogan ran on, leaving the little ones shaking beneath a table lined with goodies and breads.
Yes. This would be a day for the history books. Sir Cadogan hopped from one portrait to the next, until finally, his armored feet landed in a portrait hanging in the entrance hall.
"Fight, fight like it's the day of reckoning!" he shouted. Professor Flitwick turned to see Sir Cadogan attempting to fight through his painting, but the small Charms teacher didn't have time to dwell on it; a rather nasty blast whizzed past his head and tore a hole through the wall.
Sir Cadogan, in the meantime, kept trying to slash away at the Death Eaters infiltrating Hogwarts. He waved his sword in front of his body, yelling out profanities and insults to anyone who dared to step even a few meters in front of where he stood.
Then, Sir Cadogan stopped.
His valiant efforts were doing nothing, nothing! Because he was a painting and the fight was as real as magic itself. What could he do, trapped inside canvas? What could a whisper of a human being from centuries ago do to help during a very real, very dangerous battle?
Sir Cadogan saw two options: one, he could stop. Cease and desist. Let history swallow up what was left of him and say farewell to the world as he knew it.
But those were the thought of cowards, like Mordred, the evil nephew of his beloved King Arthur.
"Never," Sir Cadogan whispered to himself. He would never become like Mordred. So, he chose the second option.
Sir Cadogan sheathed his sword. He had ended up in a painting of a large field with small sheep grazing. The tiny animals seemed either not to notice or uninterested in the blood bath occurring right below their painted walls. Sir Cadogan merely scoffed at their indifference, readied himself, and ran full speed toward the front of the painting.
"CHARGE!"
He crashed into the opening like it was a wall.
"No trap has ever contained me," Sir Cadogan said, standing again. "After all, I ran into the belly of the beast and defeated the Wyvern of Wye. No canvas will ensnare me forever!"
Again, Sir Cadogan lined up and charged the entrance. This time, he felt the wall stretch and tighten against his weight, buoying him backward into the field.
"The third time, they say, is in fact the charm," Sir Cadogan brushed the paint dust from his armor. This time, the knight paused to assess the destruction outside the painting. Bodies were strewn about the room, some coated in black, some small and young. Students. Sir Cadogan bowed his head, solemnly, in reverence of his fallen brothers and sisters. Upon lifting up his chin, Sir Cadogan saw a Gryffindor boy he knew well running past.
"Yes! Dean Thomas, fellow comrade, defile those ruffians! Make them pay for their insubordination, the rogues!"
Dean Thomas did not comment on what Sir Cadogan felt where poetic words of affirmation. Nonetheless, for the third time, Sir Cadogan lined himself up near the back of the portrait. He closed his eyes and whispered, "Merlin, help me defend and conquer the place I've come to know and love as home," and he ran like never before.
Like the day his human body entered the wyvern, Sir Cadogn felt a brief moment of hot air enclose around his body. As a portrait, it didn't faze him as it had in his mortal life. The hot air from the wyvern nearly sucked all the breath out of his body back then. Now, Sir Cadogan embraced the warmth sensation; he hadn't felt anything like that in all his days.
Someone nearby gasped, and Sir Cadogan realized that he hadn't opened his eyes since he closed them to speak with Merlin. His eyes shot open, wide, and for the first time in a very, very long time, Sir Cadogan saw that he walked amongst mortals again.
"Be still, my noble and valiant heart," he cried. The gasper, Sir Cadogan noticed, was young Dean Thomas, who stared at the knight like he had witnessed magic for the very first time.
"Come, come, my lad. It is I, Sir Cadogan of the Round Table!" Sir Cadogan reached for his sword, knowing that his time had come to fight and defend. A battle was raging and he had broken free of his bonds.
But when his fingers wrapped around the hilt of his sword, Sir Cadogan realized that, though he no longer was the result of simple strokes of paint, he was no mortal man at all.
"By jove! I've returned to Hogwarts as a spirit!"
Indeed. The bit of sentience painted into Sir Cadogan's portrait, which had clung to the noble and stupidly brave attributes of the real Sir Cadogan, had woken up the spirit inside the man and pulled his ghost back to earth for the Battle of Hogwarts.
(It probably is important to note that asking help from Merlin—the most powerful wizard of all time—may have helped in the situation. Sir Cadogan didn't have much time to reflect on it just then, seeing as there were many curses flying about the room.)
Though something like this could cause great distress to the average person, Sir Cadogan saw it as a blessing in disguise. He could finally defend his beloved home, see an end to this disastrous tyranny, and rewrite history to include his own brave deeds as Arthur's right-hand-man.
"Come, my fellow Hogwartians—we shall face this enemy as a united fortress!"
And he fought bravely, his trusted sword hitting their marks. Though a ghost, Sir Cadogan could still do some damage and that was encouraging enough for him.
Years later, children in the wizarding world would come to know Sir Cadogan as Sir Cadogan the Valiant. His ghost, they say, roams the halls of Hogwarts, retelling the tale of how the Battle of Hogwarts was truly won.
*quote pulled directly from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
