Okay, so. Don't hate me because I destroy everyone's life. I had my reasons. For example, the greastest come from the worst. Dumbledore had to take care of his wrecked family because his parents were dead, and because of his irresponsability, he lost his sister. Tom had a very difficult life at the orphanage, his father had abandoned his mother who prefered to die than raise her son. Harry was neglected and abused by the Dursleys since always, and he is an orphan and suffered from much public-hate. Sirius had the worst kind of relationship with his family, ran away from home and was later imprisioned in the Despair Island, aka Azkaban. Remus was alway rejected and judged by society. Severus came from a broken home and lost the love of his life because of his mistakes...Do you honestly believe that a girl from Scotland, two guys from England and a kid from Welsh would met if they didn't had any reason to leave home at the middle ages? London was a village and I doubt Diagon Alley existed at the time. There was no cities, people lived isolated. No, they wouldn't met. And certainly, they would built a castle and leave everything behind if they had something to be attached to. My point is; there is no away Hogwarts (a school, in the time people were only taught in monasteries) would be built to people who led good lives.

No beta, not mine.

989

A figure stood in the middle of the chamber, a man with auburn hair and sharp expression, in maroon robes. Pæl, Lord of Gíw, his father. Beside him, his mother, Taeria, stood in her violet robes, the beautiful ginger that shared her ocean-blue eyes with Godric smiled to her son. His two older sisters and his younger brother threw the ashes in the fire, that grew to seven feet.

Samhain. Behind Godric, wizards and witches sung a lullaby in a language forgotten by the world. As the first fire elemental in their line, Godric should thank the ancients by walking into the flames.

The teen watched as his body drowned in the fire. Pain. The fire washed his eyes and destroyed his robes. His crimson hair was transformed into ashes and the sharp pain reigned over his body.

Godric breathed the fire, and the flames engulfed his mouth, down his throat. Air, he didn't need air. Fire was his savior and as the element became his body, Godric didn't know anything else.

"Eate and Grannus, Hephaestaus and Hestia. This servant of fire commits himself to honor, kill and preserve for those names. May fire always sputter in these hearths."

Then, he stepped out. The seventeen years old wizard nodded to his father. He was ready to guide his family. Now he only had to craft his own wand.

"Let your servant born in Gíw at the day of D'Or find his equal."

The Ceremony of Wand Crafting was an old tradition to the ones born in Gíw. The protectors of Griffins and Hippogriffs, they were, and they usually find their cores in those creatures. Godrc had never had such great relationship with griffins, and while hippogriffs welcomed him, he wasn't able to find a core in those either – so, the journey. The wood would always be from the tree planted on their birth. In Godric's case, a cypress. The branch who had fallen when he had summoned the tree was a particular unyielding one, around seventeen inches. It said much about his personality, his sister Ramona, who studied wandlore, had said. Something about being noble, courageous and brave, foolish and two light to her own taste, being a stubborn idiot with a very complex personality – the last fact seemed to surprise her and she had admitted that she never thought of as the complex type. To Godric's dismay, his whole family had also said he didn't look very complex, until his fiancée Katrina intervened saying that he must be, considering the wood of his future wand.

Godric knew he had chosen his partner well. After he finished the ceremony, he went to find his love in their hiding place. He would have to depart before the day started, but the night had just come. He found her near the apple tree that would provide her wand wood in two years. Katrina had sharp features and large lips, her brunette hair always braided with gray feathers of those born in Hwéol. Her body was slender and bony – she was beautiful in her own way, her skin marked by the time she passed on the moors, practicing magic. She was always warm and loved to test her magic against him. He would always won, but that wasn 't a surprise – despite being a moron according to his family, he had long ago become better at wizardry and swords duels than everyone in the village or castle.

He wasn't that good in witchcraft, but that was an ability long forgotten to his family. No, he had dominated what they knew. Apparating and creating wards, and some charms. Ramona had been taught by their great-aunt the art of wandlore – but that was only to women in his family, and just one in every generation.

"You are going." She said, as he ate one of the apples of her tree. Katrina hated her apples, she said they tasted like powered to her but Godric liked the rough texture. "Don't eat this. I can just hope that my wand won't feel like those apples taste. They are heinous."

Godric laughed as she took the fruit of his hands, biting it with a grimace. "See? Bad."

"They were born with you, I could never hate them even if I wanted."

"Sweet lover boy, aren't you? But you are leaving me." She pouted and Godric wrapped his arms around her waist, as she kissed his temple down to his jaw. "I promise to return." He mumbled, his body shivering with lust as he felt her cleavage pressed against his chest, the scent of apples that she loathed filling his nose with the proximity. Once Godric had wondered if his scent was of cypress, too, but Katrina had said he smelled like cinnamon and ginger.

He remembered the time they had first met. Katrina was around thirteen and he had just turned fifteen. She was the daughter of a warder who had just returned from his quest and her mother was dead since she was ten, attacked by a werewolf. Godric vaguely remembered her father, Hagen, before he departed. He was the bastard son of his grandmother, and his uncle. The story of Godric's grandparents were rather sad, his grandmother was raped by a werewolf when his grandfather was away – when he returned, his grandfather found his wife pregnant, and the woman had begged for him to kill her. His grandfather had never done it, and when he finally extracted the truth from his wife, he had welcomed his wife and taken Hagen as his younger son. His uncle had grown to be a fine man, stronger than even his father, and become and ward master. He had several problems with werewolves, what led him to abandon his family to its safety. But when his wife was killed, he knew he had to return, to Katrina's sake and so he did.

Godric fell in love immediately, and for almost one year, he had thought he was the only one. When his feelings were discovered and reciprocated, he had had a fierce battle with uncle Hagen to her daughter's hand, what led Godric to be recognized as the greatest dueller of the family when he won. The last year had been heaven to the young wizard, and he was only waiting to his wand ceremony to wed his love.

His stubborn, pretty, strong-willed, generous, sassy, and worried Katrina.

"What are you thinking about? Are you anxious?"

"I was thinking about you, sweetie. And while I can deny my excitement and eagerness and fear for not being able to attain a satisfactory core, I'm not anxious. I'm just…"

"Thoughtful." Katrina finished.

"Yes, full of thoughts. But they weren't about my quest. I want us to marry at the same day I return. I will ward this tree as our mating symbol and we will marry under its branches. The wedding ritual will be conducted with my own wand, under the core of yours, and our love will last as long as Magic does. We will built a house on the top of the hill, and we will only move when my father become unable to reside on the castle. I want a small cottage where we will all be happy, maybe we can open the castle to the whole village, and nobody will have to worry about casting warming wards around their houses at the winter, because the castle will keep them safe and warm…Your hair will be braided with gray feathers and apple leaves at our weeding, and I will walk on hot coals to receive my bride, as a fire elementalist should."

Katrina giggled between her moans on his chest. "You are such a dreamer. Our children will have apple face if this tree becomes our symbol, and they will taste terribly."

"Tasting our children? Are you a cannibal?" He stopped his reverie for a moment to look at her incredulous. "Oh, and our children! How many should we have? Thirty? Twenty?"

"You should know by now that this isn't something you can easily control. But the amount tends to increase the more we fuck, so are we going to?" She asked teasing while Godric slided his hands down to her womanhood.

As he pressed her body against the fern, one of the last moments they would have together, the night coldness was forgotten to a welcoming heat as the two lovers were held together on the summer embrace.

-x-

The Kingdom of Alania. Sometimes, Godric couldn't believe he had reached so far apparating, but when he had left the Gíw Castle, he wished for the place where he would find his destiny, and he had travelled to a place where he didn't know the language or the culture, and he had no idea where he was before finding a map after three weeks. We was to the East from where the Carlemagne had created his Empire, that had crumbled down long ago, but people still used as reference;

A place where most people had golden skin and every one had dark hair. Long expressions were a rule, in beautiful or ugly, and he taken some time creating a translating spell. The villages were great, busy and crowed. They wore colorful clothes, and his red semblance detached him from the others as light inside a dark dungeon. But he wasn't surrounded by people now. No, he was facing a cat-like giant animal, with dark long mane extended to his belly and golden fur, the head-to-tail length around seven feet. Its muzzle reminded him a bit of a dog, though it was clearly a feline.

But the creature wasn't attacking. It wasn't even looking to him, but to his back. He turned to see a even more terrifying being with a body similar to the first and the tail of a scorpion. But the most heinous aspect of it was the humanoid head, the skin was paper-like leather, dry and taut to evolve the rough and crooked nose, there was no lips, just sharp fangs which grew from a dark and bloody gum, ragged and wry ears in his up head. His big eyes were the safe harbor in a tormented sea, the blood red orbs dancing and twinkling in a strange and enchanting dance.

Godric knew that animal. He had heard about him on minstrel's songs. A manticore, with the body of a lion, tail of a scorpion and head of man. So, the first creature should be a lion. Two males, he noticed. And while the first made him feel comfortable and safe, the second called him. Oh, he knew that feelings. His brother Fheon had told him that the first feeling was from a familiar bound; something related on their great-grandfather's diary. So, he had a potential familiar bound in a lion.

The second was a bit depressing, and at the same time, exciting. He would have to kill the creature, and he had no idea of how he was supposed to do this. But finding his wand core on that animal would need it to be dead, as Godric knew it wouldn't give anything.

He approached the smaller animal, the lion and touched his mane. Immediately, a pleasant feeling rushed through all his body, sending a comforting wave of happiness through him. Baghatur, he knew his name, and it was it. He didn't know the meaning, but it had to be it, as the word was shouted on his head when he touched it.

"Baghatur." The lion rose his head, facing him with an understanding, civil and at the same time wild, look. He was the king of the nature, and he was wild. But he heard the master of fire, and he was his equal. The lion was the animal in the man as the wizard was the man in the wild. Magical familiar. "Distract him."

And as the feline beast attacked the hybrid, the future Godric Gryffindor swigged his sword and launched himself at the fifteen feet manticore.

Only when he had beheaded the creature was that the wizard was again able to feel the push of magic, calling his core to the core in the animal. And there they were, manticore poison, heartstring and fang.

-x-

How to craft one's wand was taught by the wandmaster of the family to all those who were going to the wand ceremony. The fact Godric was a fire elementalist changed something, for example, that he should craft his wand inside the fire. A large fireplace would work, but Ramona had suggested that if he wanted the finest and most proper wand, he should enter in a volcano. At first, Godric had looked at his sister confused, having no idea what was a volcano. When she explained what it was, he had looked at her gobsmacked as if she was some sort of lunatic. But she had just smiled to him.

As Godric jumped into the crater of volcano on the land of the Romans, he couldn't help but feel like a full. He had apparated again to several locations, asking for the signs of an eruption. Well, it didn't really need to be erupting, just active was enough. He watched as Baghatur watched him falling into the cliff. Now, he had no idea how he would return to the ground, as flying wasn't a skill he had. Maybe he could control the fire to push him up? It could work.

Being wrapped in an ocean of lava were similar to being inside fire in his Wand Ceremony, but more real. The branch or the core wouldn't burn while he didn't wish them to. The lava was beautiful, deadly but gorgeous, hot, extremely hot. Again, his hair was burnt and his clothes taken by the fire, but Godric didn't care anymore. The fire stole, but it would also return. And his hair would return when he left the crater. As he would do. He would return to home.

So, he started the process, wishing for the lave to melt the branch into an acinaces-like shape. He had seen the sword once while in Kingdom of Alania and had been fascinated with it. As he worked with wood, the poison and the fang melted in the lava, washing its insides and then the heartstring would slip through its bottom, sealing the work.

-x-

But when the day to return home come, Godric looked at a destroyed castle, in a destroyed village and walked through the passageways. Mostly everyone were there. His father, his mother, his brothers and sisters. His friends, his family, his acquaintances. The few who had flew, Godrc knew they wouldn't return. He had seen that scenery so many times. Seen the destroyed families, the noble houses perished. Attacked.

When he approached their hiding place, Godric turned to see his love lying dead in the tree roots. Her clothes ripped and bloodied, exhaling a scent he didn't want to recognize.

Because the greatest people come from the most wrecked places and Godric had just joined that group.

Despite one majorly wrong thing in this story - the period of Witch Hunts - I try to be the historical accurate while writing. At around 991the Mount Vesuvius was active, so this is where Godric crafted his wand. The last wild lions in Europe were extinct in X century at the Caucasus, Baghatur is a barbary lion, native from North Africa - I considered close enough. I would prefer using the European Lion, but they were already extinct, while Barbary would only be at the 20th century. Kingdom of Alba referes to Kingdoms of Scotland during the period of 900-1286, while the Kingdom of Alania existed during the period around the 8th or 9th century until 1239. Cholera wasn't a disease of the middle ages and this is good, but I don't feel good thinking of Salazar sending a plague to the whole Europe. If you have more points to add, please fell free to do.

I love those buttons of Favorite, Follow and Review. You must like them as well, you know the feeling. So why don't you test them? :D

By the way, I feel like writing something about Aerya...what do you think?