The man before John had red hair cascading over his shoulders, a handsome visage, and a beard adorning his chin. His skin seemed to be flecked with sawdust, giving him an almost wooden appearance. An alarm bell rang in John's mind. Silently, he clenched his sword, and his wand, held in his left hand, was poised to cast a spell at a moment's notice.
"Who are you?" John inquired, as the last piece of what seemed like sawdust adhered to the man's face. The once thick wooden sword in the man's grasp had now transformed into a twig-like wand. Opening his eyes wide, the man's first words were, "You must be a Gryffindor, right?"
"Uh... I'm from Slytherin," John corrected.
"Slytherin?" The man looked at John, bewildered. He wielded a large sword in his right hand and a wand in his left, a unique combination for attack. "You claim to be from Slytherin?" Godric Gryffindor chuckled, then said, "Don't jest. You've conquered the test I left behind, and my hat wouldn't have placed you in Slytherin."
His confidence suggested he thought this was merely a playful remark from the young wizard, but John sensed something amiss. "Your hat? The Sorting Hat?" John ventured.
"Indeed, I am Godric Gryffindor. You may also refer to me as the old headmaster if you prefer," the man introduced himself. Gryffindor, appearing to be in his prime, instinctively reached to stroke his beard before remembering his current youthful form and stopping himself.
"The Founder of one of the Four Houses?!" John exclaimed, astounded.
"You may address me as such. This is the secret chamber I left behind. Impressive, isn't it? How fares Gryffindor these days? Have we triumphed over Slytherin in the House Cup?" Gryffindor still believed John to be a Gryffindor student, and upon mentioning his old friend Salazar Slytherin, he couldn't help but snort disdainfully.
It was clear that the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin was longstanding, dating back to the founding of Hogwarts. Noticing Gryffindor's evident disdain for Slytherin, John silently gestured to the green and silver on his robes, saying, "I truly am a Slytherin. If you doubt me, just look."
The vibrant green and silver of his robes stood out, causing Gryffindor's mood to sour instantly. "Has my hat malfunctioned, sorting you into Slytherin?" Gryffindor wondered aloud, now seriously questioning if there was an issue with his Sorting Hat.
John, unsure of what to say, offered an awkward smile. The revelation that students who passed the test were not necessarily from Gryffindor seemed to unsettle Godric Gryffindor. Nevertheless, the secret chamber was intended for the entire school, designed to identify a worthy successor. Despite the heir being from Slytherin, Gryffindor had no choice but to accept it.
"Well, you have passed the test and are deemed worthy of my inheritance," Gryffindor declared, waving his wand. The fallen doll reverted to its original state and walked into the fireplace, while two chairs materialized out of thin air. Gryffindor seated himself in one, his wand still in hand.
"As long as you complete my next challenge, I will grant you the power you seek," he continued.
John, sitting opposite, hesitated before asking, "If I accept your challenge, will I be expelled from Slytherin?"
Gryffindor responded dismissively, "Would expulsion be such a bad thing? After all, pure-blood families are usually not lacking in wealth."
"But, Head of Gryffindor, I'm Muggle-born," John revealed.
"Um?!" Gryffindor was taken aback. "Even as a Slytherin, you're a Muggle-born? What has become of Hogwarts in my absence, that Slytherin has been infiltrated by Muggles?"
Gryffindor, overwhelmed by this revelation, needed a moment to process the information. The more he pondered, the more perplexed he became. "Could it be that Gryffindor and Slytherin have swapped identities?" He glanced at John again, considering the possibility more seriously.
It became evident that Godric Gryffindor was a figure of significant stature. Both he and Salazar Slytherin, characterized by their bravery and calmness respectively, pursued adventure and yearned for magic. Despite their contrasting natures, they were best friends, even in the face of their eventual parting. Days later, they would part ways amicably. Godric Gryffindor, however, didn't dwell on such thoughts. He reassured, "Do not fret, my legacy spans the entire school, and you shall not face expulsion."
"Okay." John sighed in relief upon hearing he wouldn't be expelled. The prospect of inheriting such a legacy was enticing, but expulsion would tarnish any accolades, even in the eyes of a resurrected Voldemort.
"The trial consists of three parts: the bird in the forest, the lion in the mountain, and the swordsman's courage," Gryffindor explained. "I will be observing your performance throughout."
As Gryffindor was about to initiate the trial with a wave of his wand, John hesitantly raised his hand to interrupt. "I apologize, Head of Gryffindor, but I might not be ready at this moment, and it's also past my bedtime."
Gryffindor, momentarily taken aback and holding his breath, had his plans interrupted by John's request. After a brief pause, he conceded, "Then we shall reschedule!"
"Thank you, Head of Gryffindor." John bowed respectfully and exited, his heart racing at the thought of the impending trial.
[Ding, challenge mission triggered: Gryffindor Legacy Phase 1 - The Bird in the Forest. Reward: Forest Flyer Blessing]
Currently without a single talisman, John was not prepared to take unnecessary risks. Caution was his guiding principle for longevity. He decided to rest and recuperate in his dormitory before facing the trial.
The next day, John made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast. The morning spread was lavish, featuring porridge, pickled herring, eggs wrapped in bacon, and more. Despite the unusual combination of pickled herring with porridge, John's palate had grown accustomed to such fare over the years.
As he enjoyed his breakfast, Daphne Greengrass, a blonde girl, sat beside him, her gaze fixed on his profile. She chuckled softly before mentioning, "John, did you know our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this year is Gilderoy Lockhart? My mother adores him."
John, sipping his porridge and pairing it with a slice of bacon, responded indifferently, "I've read his book. It's well-written, though I'm curious about his teaching abilities."
The frequent changes in Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers had resulted in a disparity in student proficiency. John pondered the school's stubbornness in this matter. "Why not simply rename the course? Whether it's Defense Against the Dark Arts or Countering Dark Arts, the essence remains the same. The curse on the position, purportedly by Voldemort, shouldn't affect my tenure as a professor," he mused.
The previous year's professor, Quirrell, had been lackluster in his teaching, yet John had learned that Quirrell's expertise in dark magic was far from mediocre; he had merely chosen to conceal his true capabilities.
Draco Malfoy approached with his entourage, eager to share gossip with John. "Potter and that detestable Weasley have landed themselves in trouble again. They arrived at school in a flying car! It's a shame you missed the spectacle in the Great Hall yesterday."
The news spread like wildfire, and Gryffindor House celebrated Harry's audacious stunt that night. However, Harry soon realized his folly, especially when Hermione, the most rational among their trio, expressed her disappointment. Her fascination with Gilderoy Lockhart's "Travels with Vampires" was momentarily overshadowed by her frustration with Harry's recklessness.
The arrival of the post brought chaos to the Great Hall, with hundreds of owls swooping in. An elderly owl, belonging to the Weasley family, made a clumsy landing into Hermione's milk jug. "Errol!" Ron exclaimed, rescuing the disoriented owl and noticing the red envelope in its beak—a Howler.
John watched with interest, sensing the unfolding drama, especially as Malfoy's attention was captured by the scene. Malfoy turned around abruptly, his expression one of gleeful anticipation, as if he were about to watch an exceptionally entertaining spectacle. "Haha, a Howler letter. Weasley is going to suffer," he gloated, his voice dripping with schadenfreude. The lackey standing beside him mimicked a weeping gesture, adding to the mockery.
Ron, on the other hand, was visibly reluctant to open the Howler. Neville, trying to be helpful, whispered, "You'd better open it, Ron. Ignoring it only makes things worse. My grandmother sent me one once, and when I ignored it..." He shuddered, the memory of the consequences clearly still haunting him.
Understanding the gravity of the situation, Ron swallowed hard. He didn't need to imagine the potential fallout; the dread was evident. With hands shaking from apprehension, he finally mustered the courage to open the roaring letter. As soon as he did, a deafening roar filled the entire hall, causing a visible tremor. John, who was observing the chaos, noticed a pinch of ashes fall into his porridge. Seizing the opportunity to avoid Malfoy's attention, he discreetly swapped his bowl with one in front of Malfoy.
Malfoy, too engrossed in reveling in Weasley's misfortune, picked up the porridge and drank it with evident satisfaction. However, his enjoyment was short-lived as the porridge was finished in just a few sips, leaving him wanting more.
_________
If you are tired of reading I also have this converted to an audio novel on my youtube
https://www.youtube.com/@NovelAudioForge/featured
Direct Link to playlist
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f_Hg-qsW4rM&list=PLKskshYG-OcPTR4-Nw7IWFEBZm07D8pBV&ab_channel=NovelAudioForge