CHAPTER ONE

The darkened skies hide what's above the clouds and the heavy rain pelting down on earth makes visibility impossible. As if waiting for their cue, twin lightning crashes to the ground followed by the roaring thunder. You might say that the gods are having a brawl up there. Seems rehearsed, isn't it? But no, they're not. That's just the most normal thing in the world. That's just nature taking its course.

A lightning bolt crashed to the earth with a deafening roar, shaking the ground. It struck a large chunk of limestone at the top of a mountain. As the bolt was making it's way to its target, a massive wave of silence filled the mountain - as if the whole mountain was anticipating something to happen. The stone exploded into thousands of small pieces. When the dusts subsided, a small opening was revealed. To where the gap leads, no one knows except for one.

Another bolt crashed at the mountain's side, setting fire at the trees. The fire scattered rapidly, and for a short period, a thick blanket of smoke enveloped the mountain.

Then, another bolt crashed from the sky, this one, much more powerful than the first two, even when combined. This one hit the other side of the mountain with such intensity that a portion of the mountain collapsed. When the dusts settled, a wizened old man was left standing at the middle of the rubble. It was his first time seeing the sky after centuries of being trapped inside the mountain. And as to what year it was, he doesn't know. All that matters is the fulfillment of the task he was entrusted to do, or rather, compelled to do.

After that, the heavens silenced.

The ominous air might conceal the joyous spirit spreading a few miles away, in Ethelburga, the noble fortress of King Theodoric. But the people are rejoicing, nonetheless. Their beloved queen, Eleanor, had just given birth to a healthy baby boy, their future king. And with arms wide open, the kindly king welcomed his son to the world.

Theodoric Gryffindor came from the Norman line of royalties. He is heavily built, with broad shoulders and powerful arms, and has an unmistakable mass of unruly black hair, which he kept cut short. He came from a very powerful clan of pureblooded wizards and witches. Eleanor, on the other hand, is of French origin. She has a muggle father and a veela mother, who both came from noble families. She is slightly built, with fair skin, has silvery blond hair, and has a set of piercing blue eyes that is simply captivating.

"What shall we name him, my king?" the queen asked.

"I shall name him..." he paused for a moment, silently searching in his mind for a name most suitable for his heir "We shall name him Godric..." he trailed, savoring the sound of his son's name, as he looked at the baby's face. "Yes, you will be named Godric, my son".

And so it was.

The boy, now christened Godric, became an immediate favorite at the king's court. Spinsters' heart melted at the mere sight of the boy, arguments were ended by the child's vibrant laughter, and his constant bubbling act never fails to bring a smile to everyone.

But everything wasn't as picture perfect as they wanted it to be. There were several attempts to take the boy's life, may it be muggle or magical method. But all seemed crude and ineffective, because Godric himself thwarted every single one of them, nonetheless.

Every morning, his parents always bring him to the courtyard to get some sunshine. They were just following the usual "A-growing-boy-needs-plenty-of-sunshine" terrestrial adage. They were used to subjects fawning over the boy, giving him anything, from carved wooden horses to urchin-like playthings.

When Godric was just a year old, as he was receiving his usual tanning treatment, someone gave him a squashy, cute little toy, then left right away. Theodoric and Eleanor were just talking about how cuddly their son was when suddenly, the little, cute squashy thing became a cobra! It was a very tense moment for the first-time parents. Veelas are known for their extreme reactions on certain matters. When a veela is mad, expect a fireball to be thrown at you. When a veela is sad, expect a river. And as for Eleanor, the prospect of losing her baby was too much. She fainted right away. But it was more intense for Theodoric. He was rooted in his spot. His son is about to be taken away from him. His treasure is seconds away from death itself!

Baby Godric just looked at the advancing snake. He giggled. With a look of pure, innocent glee in his face, and with arms waving in his sides, he looked at his father and pointed at the snake. And if it isn't a life or death situation, you could even say that it's the cutest thing you'll ever see. His father momentarily lost his bearing. He was too stunned to think of anything to do. Yes, he was king. He was trained to fight, may it be muggle or magical method. He was taught to make decisions quickly. He was known for his quick wand. But now, all those things seem so far away.

Then, Theodoric felt something different is happening. It's not his wife's short breathing, and it's not Godric's crazy antics that's bothering him. He was wondering where that feeling was coming from when he realized that it was coming from his throat. He was trying to say a spell, but couldn't make up a word. His knees were getting weak, his body was shaking, and his senses were all blurred. With precious time gone by, he was about to accept the fact that he was going to lose his son.

Then he heard something.

A hiss. The sound was getting stronger, and stronger, and stronger. His senses were now going back to normal. And to his great astonishment, the hissing sound came from his son. His son was talking to the snake. And shocking, as it may seem, the snake was listening and talking back to Godric. Then, the snake backed off. And with his mind back in full control of his body, he mustered all his strength and said the very first spell that came into his mind.

"Petrificus Serpensoria!" he yelled, pointing his wand at the snake. A simple petrifying spell could have easily done the job. But when he said the spell, he released it with such a great intensity. The snake wasn't petrified. It was disintegrated. That's what happens when a top-notch warlock gets out of control.

Expect something to go "boom!"