Chapter 2: A Tale Of Four Friends

Godric gazed up at the towering castle in the distance, its alabaster walls glowing faintly against the darkening, starlit sky. The waning light of the setting sun cast long shadows, but the grandeur of the castle seemed untouched, standing as a beacon of magnificence. A determined smile curved his lips as awe welled within him, growing stronger with each passing moment.

The charred, metallic tang of the city air filled his senses—a sharp contrast to the crisp, unspoiled breeze of the quiet town he had left behind. The sights, the sounds, the smells—everything here was new, overwhelming yet exhilarating.

"Blimey…" Godric murmured. "It's even grander than I imagined."

"Well, well, what do we have here?" a voice interrupted from behind, smooth as silk yet carrying an unmistakable depth. "A new face amongst us Third-Years?"

Godric turned to see a young man, likely around his age, watching him with a sly smile. His jet-black hair was sleek and perfectly combed, and his emerald-green eyes gleamed with an amused curiosity, their focus shifting pointedly to the sword strapped across Godric's back.

The stranger's black robes were trimmed in vibrant green and white, adorned with a sigil unfamiliar to Godric, embroidered on both his chest and shoulders. Silver piercings glinted from his ears, and a delicate silver locket hung around his neck, catching the dim light as he spoke.

 "And with such… interesting accessories," the young man added, his smile widening as his eyes lingered on the ornate hilt of the sword.

Godric straightened his posture, sensing the subtle challenge in the stranger's tone. This wasn't just idle curiosity—there was something sharper beneath those words.

 "Aye, that I am," Godric confirmed, his tone cautious yet steady. "The name's Godric Gryffindor… and this 'accessory' happens to be a treasured gift from my uncle."

 "Salazar Slytherin. Charmed, I'm sure," the other boy replied, his emerald eyes narrowing ever so slightly, the faintest trace of amusement tugging at the corner of his lips. "Though, I must admit, it's rather… unconventional for a wizard to rely on mundane weaponry."

 Godric's jaw tightened imperceptibly, his hand instinctively gripping the belt that secured the scabbard of his sword.

 "Magic isn't everything, mate," he said, his uneasy grin attempting to mask the tension. "Sometimes, the old ways prove just as effective. And besides," he added, "in the heat of battle, a wand can only get you so far."

 Salazar tilted his head, the sly smile remaining but his gaze sharpening. "Perhaps," he conceded. "Though I'd wager the 'heat of battle' you're imagining is a far cry from what you'll face here in Avalon."

 Godric met his gaze without flinching, determination flickering in his crimson eyes. "Maybe so," he said evenly, "but I'd rather be prepared for anything, wouldn't you?"

For a moment, the two stood in silent appraisal, the bustling station fading into the background as the air between them seemed to hum with unspoken challenges. Salazar's smile widened ever so slightly, as though he'd found something he hadn't expected.

"Interesting," Salazar murmured. "Well, Godric Gryffindor, I suppose time will tell whether your philosophy holds merit. Welcome to Excalibur."

Before Godric could respond, two individuals approached—both girls, their robes resembling Salazar's in design but accented with distinct colors. One wore robes trimmed in blue and white, while the other's featured accents of amber and white. Each bore a unique crest embroidered on their chest and shoulders.

The first girl strode forward with an energetic bounce, her auburn hair catching the breeze as her deep amber eyes sparkled with curiosity.

"Oi, what's this, then?" she said, her tone bright and chipper. "Making friends already, Salazar?"

 The second girl followed, her sapphire-blue eyes sharp and analytical as they studied Godric.

 "A new student?" she asked, her tone cool but tinged with curiosity. "How peculiar. I don't recall Excalibur ever accepting transfers. Especially not one so… late."

 "Godric Gryffindor," he introduced himself with a polite nod. "And aye, it's a bit of an unusual situation. But Headmaster Blaise himself approved my admission."

 At the mention of their esteemed headmaster, all three exchanged meaningful glances.

 "Professor Blaise's personal approval, you say?" Salazar's emerald eyes glinted with interest, his brow arching slightly. "How… intriguing. I suppose we'll need to keep a closer eye on you, Gryffindor."

 "Well, any friend of Professor Blaise is a friend of mine!" the first girl declared with a cheerful clap of her hands. "I'm Helga Hufflepuff," she said, gesturing to the girl beside her. "And this bookworm here is Rowena Ravenclaw."

 Rowena shot her a sharp look, her lips twitching into a faint frown. "I prefer the term 'academically inclined,' thank you very much," she corrected, before turning to Godric with a small, polite nod. "But yes, welcome to Excalibur, Godric."

 Before the conversation could delve further, a piercing whistle echoed through the air, and a voice called out, directing the students toward the station's exit.

 "That's our cue," Rowena remarked, effortlessly adjusting the thick leather-bound book cradled in her arms. Her long, sleek black hair cascaded over her shoulders, swaying elegantly with her movements. "Let's head to the carriages. Being late for orientation on the first day back would be most unbecoming."

Helga wasted no time, grabbing Godric by the arm with a grin. "Come on, newbie! You're with us!" she declared enthusiastically. "And I want to hear all about how you got that wicked sword."

 Godric allowed himself to be pulled along, his earlier apprehension melting into a small, amused smile. "Well," he began, a playful gleam in his eye, "it all started with a dragon in my uncle's vegetable patch…"

 "A dragon? In a vegetable patch?" Helga exclaimed, her amber eyes sparkling with excitement. "Oh, this I have to hear!"

 The station buzzed with activity, a flurry of students shuffling through the red-bricked entrance. Godric noticed Academy staff efficiently directing the flow of groups, their voices mingling with the rhythmic clatter of baggage carts and the scraping of luggage wheels. The hum of conversation filled the air, blending seamlessly with the sounds of movement.

 Wheeling his trunk behind him, Godric stepped outside, only to stop in his tracks, his jaw dropping slightly at the sight before him. The "carriage" waiting to transport them was unlike anything he had ever imagined. It was no ordinary carriage pulled by horses. Instead, it was a strange vehicle brimming with mechanisms. At its front was a glowing chamber, encased in oxidized iron, faintly pulsing with light. Pipes snaked around its structure, trailing over the metallic frame like veins, while glittering steam hissed softly from vents, rising and dissipating into the cool evening air.

 Salazar, already at the back of the vehicle, was securing his trunk when he noticed Godric's stunned expression. A smirk crept onto his face.

 "What's the matter, Gryffindor?" he called out, his tone dripping with amusement. "Never seen a bus before?"

 "A… what?" Godric replied, his brow furrowing in confusion as he continued to study the peculiar contraption.

 Salazar shook his head, clearly enjoying the moment. "Never mind," he said with a sigh, his emerald eyes glinting with mischief. "We'll explain along the way. Now stop gawking and load your trunk," he added, gesturing to the rear compartment. "Let's get a move on."

 Still puzzled but determined not to fall behind, Godric hefted his trunk onto the vehicle, pausing briefly to give the glowing mechanism one last glance.

 "Come on, Godric!" Helga's cheerful voice rang out from inside, her head poking out of a window. "We don't have all day!"

 Salazar, ever the picture of composure, gestured toward the open door with a slight, exaggerated bow. "After you," he said smoothly, his tone tinged with mock politeness.

 Godric rolled his eyes but couldn't help the faint smirk tugging at his lips.

 Salazar followed close behind, shutting the door with a firm click as the hiss of steam enveloped them.

 Inside, the carriage was unexpectedly spacious, its interior lined with plush seats and a faintly glowing lantern suspended from the ceiling. Helga waved him over to sit beside her, her excitement still palpable, while Rowena sat across from them, her nose already buried in her book. Salazar claimed the seat by the window next to her, leaning back with an air of calculated ease.

 As the vehicle jolted to life, the rhythmic hum of its mechanisms filled the air, a soothing cadence that blended with the gentle hiss of steam. Godric sank into the soft velvet cushions, the fabric plush and comforting after the long journey. His gaze drifted to the window, where the bright, flickering lights of the city painted a mesmerizing tapestry against the deepening twilight. Beyond the bustling glow, the majestic silhouette of Castle Excalibur loomed against the darkening sky.

 Whatever lay ahead, one thing was certain: life at Excalibur was bound to be anything but ordinary.