The story of how Tiergan met Godric. Professor Binns does not approve.
The sun peeked out from behind the clouds as Tiergan walked down the stone road from his home towards another building, an old thing of somewhat shabby quality surrounded by well-grown trees.
Tiergan scraped his boots along the stone, a blatant gesture of his reluctance to this journey. But when you are eight and your parents tell you to go, you go.
Stepping up the one stair that led up to the door, Tiergan hesitated once more. It wasn’t the right time to send him to schooling yet, he was sure of it. Before he could talk himself into turning around and leaving, the door swung open with a creek and an old man was standing behind it, far enough that Tiergan knew he hadn’t touched the handle. There was a long, thin piece of wood just sliding up his sleeve, a wand. Tiergan eyed it with some jealousy. His parents hadn’t allowed him one yet.
“Good morning, Tiergan,” the man said and waved him in. Tiergan did so with obvious irresolution. “I am Mage Erudit, as your parents have surely told you.”
They hadn’t, but Tiergan nodded anyway as he walked in. The door slid shut on its own accord but he didn’t have time to pay attention to it because Mage Erudit had already started walking deeper into the house. It was dim and smelled of parchment, at least until the reached the very back room that had windows. There, already seated behind a desk, was a boy about the same age as Tiergan. His fingers had been playing with his quill and his gaze set absent-mindedly on the wall in front of him, but his head snapped the second Tiergan entered the room. Then the boy smiled.
“This is Tiergan. Tiergan, Godric,” the mage said, taking his seat behind a great hardwood table covered with scraps of parchment, old quills, and ink spots. Tiergan followed his example, bowing his head slightly towards Godric in greeting, and the bow was reciprocated.
“We shall start with the simplest tasks,” the mage began, “first a bit of history-” Godric groaned at that, earning a look from the mage, “-then the theory of Transfiguration.”
Tiergan and Godric spent four afternoons a week sat next to each other, listening intently – and sometimes not so intently – to what mage Erudit had to say. Tiergan soon learnt that while his interests lay in historical events, different ways of magic across the continent and Astronomy, Godric was utterly hopeless with them. His talents were in what the mage called practical magic: Transfiguration, Formulas, and other spells. And some for the art of duels, with which he was thoroughly obsessed. Tiergan also observed that as the weeks went by, Godric looked more and more desperate in every lesson they had on Tiergan’s favourites, and seemed to try and fail to improve. The summer was drawing near when Tiergan finally asked.
“What is it?”
Godric looked up from where he was solely focusing on his star diagram, trying to figure out how the constellations shifted during the year.
“You look all… sad and weird. You have for some time. So what is it?”
Godric’ eyes fell back down to his parchment. “It’s silly.”
Tiergan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he opted for staring at Godric until he gave up. Which he did.
“My father wants me to improve in history and astronomy. Says a young man should know where he comes from and should be able to woo a lady with the knowledge of the stars,” Godric explained. “If I don’t, he won’t let me come along to the tournaments.”
The tournaments were an annual event at which many wizards duelled among themselves for glory, not unlike the jousting Muggles participated in. Tiergan was aware of the passion Godric had and, despite not being interested in tournaments himself, he could see why it meant so much to him.
“I could help you, you know,” Tiergan offered. The additional study Godric needed was after all the field Tiergan felt at home with.
Godric’s eyes lit up. “You would?”
“Well, why wouldn’t I?”
Smiling, Godric extended his hand and Tiergan shook it. It was as if they sealed a pact.
Mage Erudit walked into the room and upon seeing them proclaimed: “Well, aren’t you two friendly this afternoon? How are your diagrams?” He took an inquisitive look at Tiergan’s perfect lines and sighed when he turned to Godric’s. “Oh, Godric. This is completely wrong. Look, you even have the diagram the wrong way up. I’m sorry to say you are in a dire need of some help on this topic.”
“Don’t worry, Mage,” Godric said and still smiling stole a look at Tiergan, “I will.”
Tiergan helped Godric. It was long and not at all easy since Godric really did not have a single historical nor astronomical bone in his body, but they were both dedicated. Godric got to see the splendour of the Tournaments. Tiergan absently listened to his excited chatting for weeks after.
A month later, Tiergan fell ill. The dragon pox took a lot of his strength which is why his parents decided a prolonged recovery visit to his grandparents in Wales was more than needed. Tiergan hadn’t seen Godric again. That is, until the time of Hogwarts.