Disclaimer: Everything in this drabble is based on the work of JK Rowling. I own nothing. Also, the cover on the picture is a globe- not mine.
Summary of Collection: This collection is of 100-500 word drabbles that are inspired by prompts which are inspired by locations all over the world, for percychased's Globetrotter Drabble Competition II. I will write all 25 location prompts (in decreasing order- from prompt #25-1), in chronological order (eras go from founders to riddle to marauders to trio to next gen) in eighty days (from the first of June to the twenty-ninth of August), thus following in the footsteps of Jules Verne and going around the world in eighty days.
Oh puns, how I love you.
I don't usually do drabble collections, so I hope you like this project :D Reviews are always wonderful and greatly appreciated!
Summary of Chapter: After writing and separately forming plans for nearly a year, the Founders finally meet. History will be made.
A/N: This is the first one! Enjoy! Written for: (you can skip to the story now)
gtdc2: magna carta: write about the founders era; off block comp: IM medium: write about Helga Hufflepuff; thinks you can comp: wickersham brothers: write about Salazar Slytherin; winter games challenge: XCskiingrelay: write about the Founders; ffn terms challenge: WIP: write about something incomplete; tv show comp: lost: write about a group of people that have to learn to work together;
The Magna Carta: an Angevin charter issued in 1215 as the first document imposed on the King of England by feudal barons, to attempt to limit his powers
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In the Beginning
The room was lit by lanterns on the wall. In the middle stood a majestic table, and on it, a large sheet of parchment spread from end to end. Four quills sat atop it. The owners of these quills stood around the table, waiting paitiently for the awkward silence to pass. When that would happen, no one was sure.
The first quill, of an eagle, was that of Godric Gryffindor, a burly man with a long, scraggly red beard and hair to match, with wise green eyes set in an aged face. At fifty, Gryffindor had lived a long life (though he was by no means reaching the end of it), one which he was exceptionally proud of: fighting the dark wizards of this medieval age, climbing through the duelling ranks, marrying Augustina, his best friend, and having three beautiful children.
And just this past year, with his duelling career coming to a close, and a moment of peace reaching these medieval times, he and his cousin twenty years younger, had decided to open a school. It was Helga Hufflepuff's idea in the beginning, of course. She was always the visionary in the family.
Helga stood beside him, a feather of dove clutched between her fingers, poised at the ink. She looked slightly nervous, as well she should be. Helga, Gryffindor mused, was one of those amazing people who only comes along once in awhile. Finishing her schooling just under fifteen years ago (earlier than the rest), she had a desire to learn and grow to new heights and help the world, and so she became a Healer; she was, easily, the greatest the world had ever seen.
"Godric," Helga nudged him, "would you like to start?" Godric looked down at her, thoroughly perplexed, but nodded.
"Greetings," he said. From the three surrounding him, he received a curt nod each. Godric had not met Rowena Ravenclaw, but he knew of her. She was Helga's dearest friend, but besides that, everyone did. While Helga worked consistently to heal, Rowena was known throughout the entirety of the magical community now as the greatest witch the world had ever seen: she explored new areas of magic as explorers did uncharted territory, and excelled in every single one. Her passion was magic, and when Helga expressed interest, Rowena hopped on board immediately. But now, holding her elegant owl quill, she had nothing to say. The only downside to the gifted, darling Rowena was, really, her husband: Salazar Slytherin.
But Godric had definitely met Salazar Slytherin, and he still didn't like him one bit. The feeling was mutual, he knew, and despite his outwardly calm appearance he created for Helga, he was fuming on the inside. Slytherin was, in Godric's finest opinion, a cunning, twisted man with no care for magic because he believed that only the finest lines were deserving, and that just wasn't true.
To quote Helga: he was a bloody bastard. Unfortunately for them both, Rowena was wonderful, and Slytherin was bright.
Godric was pissed.
"Shall we get started?" he continued.
He saw Slytherin distinctly roll his eyes.
It was going to be a long night.