The Excalibur kitchens buzzed with activity, a symphony of clanging pots, sizzling pans, and hurried footsteps as the staff prepared for lunch. The air was rich with the tantalizing aroma of roasting meats, freshly baked bread, and a medley of herbs and spices. Butter, pepper, and salt infused the space, creating a warm, comforting atmosphere amidst the chaos.
Slaves worked diligently, arranging trays, chopping vegetables, and attending to the myriad tasks needed to ensure the feast was perfect. Amidst the throng, Sophia moved with purpose, her arms laden with a stack of pots and pans in need of a good scrub. She heaved them into the large sink with a tired exhale, pausing to wipe the sweat from her brow. Though her body still bore the bruises of recent ordeals, the care of Doctor Adani and her own resilience had brought her strength back.
"Remember, the bread goes on the second tray, and the tarts on the other," Sophia called out. She gestured toward one of the younger slaves. "And someone check on the soufflé before it falls!"
With Chef Gusteau away on a long-overdue trip to visit his family, Sophia had taken charge of the kitchen. Despite the dwarf's initial hesitation to leave following the chaos surrounding Raine, Sophia had insisted he go, knowing how much he needed the time. The chefs carried on most of the heavy lifting, but Sophia's steady guidance kept everything running smoothly. She allowed herself a small, satisfied smile as she picked up a pot and began scrubbing, her movements methodical.
"Sophia?" A soft, familiar voice called from the doorway, freezing her in place.
Sophia turned slowly, her brown eyes widening as they met Raine's golden ones. For a moment, time seemed to stop. The pot and brush slipped from her hands, clattering loudly onto the floor. Her hands flew to her mouth as tears welled in her eyes. Raine, tears streaming down her own face, crossed the room in a heartbeat and threw her arms around Sophia.
"Raine! Raine, my darling, you're alright!" Sophia sobbed, holding her tightly. Her arms trembled as she embraced her, unwilling to let go. When they finally pulled back slightly, Sophia's eyes flickered to Raine's neck. Her breath caught. The collar was gone.
"Raine… your collar," she whispered. "You're… free?"
Raine nodded, her tears spilling over again as she smiled, her tail wagging softly behind her.
Sophia's face broke into a radiant smile, and she pulled Raine close once more, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Congratulations, my dear," she said.
Sophia's gaze shifted to Godric, who stood leaning casually against the doorway, his sword strapped to his back. The majestic scabbard gleamed faintly in the muted light, a symbol of the trials he had faced. Her eyes softened as a warm smile spread across her face.
"And the valiant hero returns," she said. "I was right about you, Godric. And I'm so happy that I was."
"Sophia," Godric greeted with a respectful nod, his lips quirking into a small smile.
"What are you doing standing over there like a stranger? Come here," she beckoned, her tone playfully chiding.
Godric chuckled softly and shook his head before stepping forward. He leaned into her embrace, his arms wrapping around her in a gesture of shared relief and gratitude. "I'm happy for you both," Sophia whispered as they pulled away. "Truly, I am."
Before anyone could respond, the sound of tiny footsteps echoed across the bustling kitchen. A high-pitched cry followed. "Raine!" Hikari's voice rang out, tears glistening in her wide, blue eyes as she ran toward them.
Raine turned at the sound, her smile bright and unrestrained. She dropped to her knees just as the little girl barreled into her arms. "Oh, I've missed you, little one," Raine said as she held Hikari close.
"I thought I'd never see you again!" Hikari sobbed, clinging tightly to her.
Raine stroked her hair, her own tears falling freely. "And I thought of you every day, my sweet girl. I'm here now. I promise, I'm here."
Sophia and Godric exchanged a glance, their shared smiles speaking volumes about the depth of their relief and joy. Around them, the slaves paused in their tasks, their attention drawn to the scene unfolding. Someone's voice rang out, breaking the silence. "Hey, everyone! Raine's back!"
The announcement was met with an outpouring of warmth and excitement. A crowd of smiling faces gathered around Raine, tears of joy flowing freely as they embraced her. Laughter and chatter filled the air as the group celebrated her return, their expressions a mix of disbelief and elation at seeing her safe and sound.
Sophia placed a gentle hand on Godric's shoulder, her gaze full of gratitude. "Oh, Godric," she began. "You've given so much—not just to keep her hopes alive, but ours as well. In all my years here, I've never seen one of us leave these walls… free." Her eyes glistened with emotion. "You truly are the Lion of Ignis, a hero not only to Raine but to every one of us. Bless you, my boy."
Godric's expression softened as he nodded. "I only wish I could've done more," he said, his tone tinged with regret. "To free all of you… even Hikari."
Sophia smiled warmly. "You've freed Raine. That's the start of something greater," she said. "The flames of change always begin with a single spark. And now," she glanced toward Raine, who was holding Hikari in her arms, surrounded by the other slaves, "she has a chance—a life and a future beyond these walls. I hope you'll fill that future with love."
Godric followed her gaze, his lips curling into a tender smile. "I'll do my best, Sophia," he said. His eyes lingered on Raine, her laughter blending seamlessly with the others around her. "Besides, my uncle's been rather insistent about me settling down. Maybe it's time I gave him what he's been nagging me about."
Sophia chuckled, shaking her head fondly. "I have no doubt, Godric, that you and Raine will build something beautiful together."
Her words lingered in the air, a blessing for the new beginning they had all fought so hard to make possible.
****
The Great Hall was alive with chatter as students gathered for lunch. The finishing touches for the Yuletide Ball adorned the walls, ribbons, holly, and bells casting a festive glow. The enchanted ceiling shimmered with magical snow, blanketing the Hall in a warm yet wintry charm. Conversations filled the air, but a noticeable number of glances kept drifting to a particular corner where Salazar, Helga, and Rowena sat.
The trio was acutely aware of the attention. Whispers of the duel still dominated the minds of the students. Some approached with congratulatory words or cheerful waves. Others muttered under their breath, their sneers betraying the bitterness of lost bets. Yet, the three friends remained absorbed in their own conversation, ignoring the surrounding noise.
"So, allow me to get this straight," Salazar gestured with his fork, a piece of ravioli precariously balanced on its edge. "You're half Jötun, your brothers are half Jötun, and your father is not only Norse but a direct descendant of the Jotnar from Jötunheimr?"
"Yep," Helga replied through a mouthful of roasted chicken. "That's why my dad's twelve feet tall, and my brothers are ten. Me, though? I'm normal sized for some reason. But I can still pack a punch."
"Oh, I most certainly can attest to that," Salazar shoved the ravioli into his mouth. "And it also certainly explains all the times you've casually displayed terrifying feats of strength."
Helga chuckled but then picked up a steel goblet, her expression growing reflective. She squeezed it lightly, crushing the metal with ease. Her fingers left deep indentations in the steel before she set it down. "It's not all fun and games, though," she admitted. "I've broken things. Hurt people. Not on purpose, but it happens. Growing up, it made it hard to make friends. Everyone was afraid of me."
Salazar turned his gaze to Rowena, who sat beside Helga, immersed in her book. "And you," he said, his emerald eyes narrowing. "You knew about this the entire time?"
Rowena glanced up calmly. "I did, but it wasn't my secret to tell. It was Helga's."
Salazar leaned back in mock disbelief, waving his fork dramatically. "You've lost the right to call me shifty, Ravenclaw. Turns out you've been keeping a fair share of secrets yourself."
"Please," Rowena said with a dismissive wave. "Nevermore isn't a secret. It's a Ravenclaw family heirloom. It's not exactly something I can parade around."
"You can keep it," Salazar drawled, a sly smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he lazily swirled his goblet. "I've never been much of a bow person anyway."
Helga leaned in, her amber eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Speaking of secrets, Salazar, what actually happened with Rance?" she asked. "Everyone says he just… well..."
Salazar paused, meeting her gaze with a raised brow. "Just what, Helga? Say it."
"You know…" she trailed off, her tone conspiratorial, "snuffed himself."
Rowena closed her book, tilting her head curiously as the air around them grew tense. Salazar's smirk returned, sharp and enigmatic, as he leaned forward slightly.
"Let's just say," Salazar drawled, his tone smooth and nonchalant, "our dear friend Rance found himself unable to handle the weight of his own misdeeds." He paused, letting the words linger before taking a sip from his goblet. "And we'll leave it at that."
Rowena raised an eyebrow, her sapphire eyes narrowing in suspicion. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean, Salazar? Bran told me they found no trace of dark magic on your wand, and yet no one can explain how Rance just… cursed himself to death."
Salazar placed a hand on his chest, feigning indignation. "Oh, Rowena, do you truly think moi, of all people, would dabble in dark magic? I'm hurt." He tilted his head slightly, a sly smile curling on his lips. "As I told your dear brother, one moment he was standing there, and the next—poof—he was nothing more than a memory."
"And you're strangely fine with that," Helga interjected, her amber eyes narrowing.
"Ah, Helga," Salazar began, his tone dripping with feigned solemnity, "would you believe me if I said this wasn't the first time I've witnessed a man unravel beneath the weight of his own darkness?" He swirled the contents of his goblet leisurely before taking a sip.
"We live in turbulent times, my dear, and such times often lead people down treacherous paths. It's unfortunate, truly, that Rance's journey ended as it did. But I assure you," he added with an air of finality, "I had no hand in his demise."
Rowena opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, Godric appeared at their table, slipping into an empty seat. "Sorry I'm late," he said, a soft smile on his face. "Had to pop by the kitchen to say hi to everyone."
"Godric!" Helga leaned in eagerly, her amber eyes alight. "Is it done? Is Raine, well…?"
Godric nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Yes, she's finally free." He glanced down at his hands. The weight of the moment evident in his posture. "I still can't believe it. After everything we've done, everything she's endured… it's finally over."
"Congratulations, Godric," Rowena said warmly, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on his. "I'm sure you and Raine will be incredibly happy together, and I'm glad to have played a part in it."
"Bravo, oh gallant Lion of Ignis," Salazar drawled, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "But don't think my involvement was entirely selfless. I'm expecting some form of recompense for all the aches and pains ravaging my body." He rolled his shoulder with exaggerated drama. "Honestly, I haven't been knocked around like that in ages."
Helga beamed. "I'm so happy for you both! It's true what they say—love conquers all. Excalibur is going to be buzzing about this for years!"
Godric looked to each of them, his gratitude clear. "Thank you, all of you. I know I've said it before, but I'll say it again—I couldn't have done this without you." He smiled softly, his crimson eyes glowing with sincerity. "Laxus was right. What we have is special, and I'll never take it for granted. Not for anything in the world."
Godric's gaze shifted to Rowena. "Oh, I ran into Bran earlier today. I thought he'd have returned to the Clock Tower headquarters in the Crown City by now."
Rowena straightened; her expression composed. "He mentioned he was just finishing up the investigation into…" Her eyes flicked to Salazar briefly.
"…everything that transpired. The Aurors will be taking over some of the more pressing matters, like tracking down where Volg got his hands on Nova and addressing other… incidents." She paused, folding her hands neatly. "He'll be leaving later tonight."
"Aww, that's a shame," Helga said with a cheeky grin. "You'd think he'd want to spend more time with his darling sister."
"That's perfectly fine," Rowena said, her tone steady, though a faint pink dusted her cheeks. "Besides, he'll be home for the holidays, and I suppose it's time I'm upfront about something." She hesitated for a moment before continuing. "Bran isn't… exactly my brother."
Salazar's smirk widened. "Oh, how deliciously scandalous. A cousin, perhaps?"
"Distant family connection, then?" Godric asked, leaning forward with intrigue.
Rowena's sapphire eyes leveled at them. "He's my husband."
The silence that followed was deafening. Godric, Helga, and Salazar froze, their faces slack with disbelief. Salazar's fork slipped from his hand, clinking loudly against his plate. Then, all at once, they erupted in unison, their voices carrying across the Great Hall and drawing every gaze.
"EHHHHH?! HUSBAND?!"
"Shh, keep it down!" Rowena hissed as her face flushed with alarm. "Do you want the entire school to hear you?"
"By the grace of Scáthach, you actually married your brother?" Salazar's expression twisted in mock horror. "I've encountered some deeply disturbing things in my life, but this is a new low. Tell me you haven't… you know…" He wiggled his fingers in a crude gesture.
Rowena turned beet red. "No! Oh, by Hecate, absolutely not!"
"How? When? Why?" Godric sputtered, fumbling for words.
"Oh, Rowena, how could you?" Helga cried, throwing a hand over her face in mock betrayal. "I thought we were friends! How could you hide something so monumental from me?"
"Alright, all of you, get a grip!" Rowena snapped. The three instantly straightened like scolded children. She took a deep breath, her composure returning. "For your information, Bran and I are not related by blood. I was… am… adopted by the Ravenclaw family as a child."
Relieved, the trio exchanged nods and collective sighs.
"We've always been close," Rowena explained, her tone softening. "Bran was my protector growing up, and I admit, I was quite fond of him. When I was twelve, my grandfather offered me a choice: to officially join the Ravenclaw family by carrying the name. But it came with a condition—that I marry Bran. It wasn't forced. It was my decision, and I said yes. This all happened just before I came to Excalibur."
"That explains it," Helga said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "We didn't meet until we started here."
"Despite everything, Bran and I still treat each other as siblings," Rowena continued with a slight shrug. "Even though… I made it clear I wanted something more."
"Oh, Gods, Rowena, people are eating," Salazar groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And after all the grief you've given me over my betrothal to Údar, you're out here secretly married to your brother."
"I am not married to my brother, Salazar!" Rowena snapped, her pout betraying her frustration. "It's… complicated."
Salazar smirked, leaning back in his chair. "It seems pretty straightforward to me."
Before Rowena could retort, a familiar voice cut through the air. "Well, well, aren't we a jolly bunch today." The four friends turned their attention to Anton, Excalibur's janitor—but something was different. Gone was his usual jumpsuit.
He was dressed impeccably in a finely tailored three-piece suit, complete with gold buttons that gleamed under the enchanted ceiling's light. A satin black tie adorned his pristine white shirt, and his moustache was groomed to perfection. His gloved hands added a refined touch to his transformation.
"Wow, Anton, you look… different," Godric said, eyebrows raised.
"Well, considering the position of Caretaker recently became available due to, let's say, known circumstances..." Anton flourished dramatically and gave a bow. "Headmaster Blaise has extended me a promotion. You are now looking at the new Caretaker of Excalibur Academy—yours truly."
"Oh, Anton!" Helga clapped her hands excitedly. "That's fantastic! Congratulations!"
"That's wonderful news," Rowena added, offering a warm smile. "And I must say, the new look suits you quite well."
"Not that it's too different from the getup you wear when you're announcing at The Congregation," Salazar quipped with a smirk.
Anton chuckled and nodded. "True, true." He turned his gaze to Godric, his expression softening. "And to think, none of this would have been possible without you, Godric."
Godric blinked in surprise. "Me? I didn't do anything."
"On the contrary," Anton said as he glanced between Godric and Salazar, "what you said to me that night… it stayed with me. You helped me rediscover the courage I'd long since buried under Creedy's tyrannical thumb. That courage has led me here. For that, I owe you a great deal of gratitude." He bowed deeply.
Godric scratched the back of his head, his face tinged with humility. "Please, Anton, it was nothing. That courage was always inside you."
Anton's smile turned wistful. "That's not entirely true. I've always been the timid one, even back when I was a student here. I was an easy target for bullies, always in the shadow of Workner, Serfence… even Creedy, to some extent. I aspired to be like them but never had the bravery to believe in myself." His gaze sharpened as he looked at Godric. "At least, not until now."
"You've shown me, shown all of Excalibur—and Avalon—the true meaning of courage," Anton continued, his tone filled with admiration. "You were willing to risk everything for what you believed in. The moniker I gave you, 'The Lion of Ignis,' is now etched into the halls of The Congregation for all time. And let's not forget the courage of your friends…"
Anton's gaze swept across the group. He turned to Salazar first. "The Serpent of Ferrum."
Then to Helga. "The Badger of Terra."
Finally, to Rowena. "and The Raven of Ventus."
He took a deep breath, standing tall. "I expect great things from each and every one of you." With a deep bow, he added, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have my duties to attend to." He straightened, turned, and strode away.
The trio stared after him, blinking in stunned silence.
"Did… did he just?" Helga asked, her voice hushed.
"No," Rowena said flatly, though her wide eyes betrayed her disbelief. "No, he didn't."
Salazar rubbed his chin as a sly grin spread across his face. "The Serpent of Ferrum," he mused. "Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?" His grin widened. "I might just have to start introducing myself that way."
****
Godric nudged Salazar, his brow furrowed. "Hey, weren't you the one who said you can't just make up a name for yourself and expect everyone to go along with it?"
Salazar shot him a cheeky grin. "Ah, but this is different. It's an Anton Buffer original. If he decrees it, I'm certain it'll catch on."
Helga flashed a broad grin. "I don't know about you, but I think it's brilliant. 'The Badger of Terra.' Sounds strong. Fearsome." She playfully flexed her arm.
Rowena groaned, her face falling into her hands. "I don't want it to catch on! By Hecate, the stain of The Congregation will now haunt me forever."
"Oh, really?" Salazar leaned in with a sly grin, his emerald eyes glinting with amusement. "I thought you'd revel in the spotlight of The Congregation. You certainly played the part brilliantly, especially during your duel with Mister Shaw." His smirk deepened. "What was it you said? 'I am the storm?'"
Helga, trying to suppress her laughter, failed miserably. "By Fornac's gummy gumdrops, you actually said that? Oh, Row, that's so painfully cheesy!" She doubled over, laughing hard.
Rowena groaned, burying her face in her hands, her cheeks glowing a bright red. "It... it just came out like that, alright?"
Godric chuckled, shaking his head. "Hah, that's a good one, Rowena! Honestly, though? It sounded pretty wicked."
"Speak for yourself," Salazar said, grinning ear to ear. "At first, I thought it was a joke. Rowena Ravenclaw, delivering a one-liner? Utter disbelief." He leaned back smugly. "Then, when people from The Congregation started confirming it, I couldn't stop laughing."
Rowena peeked out from behind her hands, glaring at them all. "Oh, laugh it up, the lot of you." Her lips pulled into a pout. "But mark my words, that was the first and last time. Never again."
Godric's laughter faltered as his gaze drifted to the far end of the hall. His eyes widened, and his smile vanished. "Guys… am I the only one seeing this?"
The group turned to follow his gaze, and their expressions shifted in unison. Standing at the end of the long table was Peter Creedy, the former caretaker. But he was almost unrecognizable. His disheveled hair hung limply, his gaunt face was marked with hollowed cheekbones and dark circles under his eyes. His once-pristine demeanor had been replaced with a malnourished, broken man.
A stained and tattered jumpsuit hung loosely over his frame, and where his right hand had once been, a crude iron hook gleamed. Most striking of all was the red metallic collar around his neck, glowing faintly with runes the group knew all too well.
"Oh," Rowena said coolly, her sapphire eyes narrowing. "It seems our beloved ex-caretaker has finally graced us with his presence. Took long enough."
Salazar tilted his head, his smirk widening as he observed the glowing collar. "Well, well. How utterly fascinating."
"That collar…" Godric said. "What's going on here? Rowena? Salazar?"
Rowena's lips thinned as she turned to Godric. "Let's just say, karma works in peculiar ways." Her icy gaze flicked back to Creedy. "To put it simply, there are three kinds of slaves in Avalon. Those born into it, those sold into it, and those…" She trailed off, her meaning clear as her eyes lingered on the former caretaker.
"Sentenced into it," Salazar finished smoothly. "Red Collars are designed for criminals. Reserved for thieves, embezzlers, or anyone who's wronged society—or in Creedy's case, the institution they stole from. It's poetic, really. They repay their debts in chains."
Rowena's smirk grew, an uncharacteristic glint in her eyes. "Bran mentioned that Professor Serfence personally requested this fate for him. Apparently, Creedy was dragged out kicking and screaming, begging like the pathetic coward he is."
Salazar's grin widened. "Is that satisfaction I see on your face, Rowena? My, my. It seems our noble Raven has a taste for vengeance after all."
"Just let her enjoy this, Salazar," Helga interjected, rolling her eyes. "To be fair, I can't think of a more fitting punishment for a prat like him. I was all for breaking his legs, but looking at him now?" She gestured toward the disheveled man. "This is so much worse."
Godric's eyes darkened, and he pushed back his chair with a screech, rising to his feet with a purposeful determination. His friends exchanged glances, immediately following his lead as he strode toward Creedy, each step echoing fury. The Great Hall fell into a tense silence as every eye turned toward the unfolding scene.
Creedy noticed him, his own eyes widening momentarily before twisting into a mask of rage. His teeth bared like a cornered animal.
"You… you half-bred little bastard," Creedy spat. "You filthy shit-eating whoreson! You'll pay for what you did to me!" His gaze then flicked to Salazar, who stood with his arms folded and a smirk dancing on his lips.
"I'd mind my words if I were you, Creedy," Salazar said lazily, tilting his head.
"And you!" Creedy snarled, brandishing the hooked stump of his hand toward him. "I don't know what you did, but they couldn't fix it! I'm left with this… this thing!"
"Aww, poor little Creepy Creedy. If it isn't the consequences of your terrible, deliberate decisions," Salazar drawled, "But tragically, I'm all out of pity for the year." His tone turned colder, sharper, as his emerald eyes narrowed. "I did warn you, didn't I? Told you that if you lived to regret your choices, it would be the longest regret of your miserable life." His grin widened into something dangerously smug. "And oh, how I savor being right."
Creedy's face contorted with rage, his lips pulling back into a feral snarl. "This is all your fault! You and your insufferable band of misfits!" His glare fixed on Godric. "Twelve years! Twelve bloody years in this!" He clawed at the red metallic collar around his neck. "I had it all—wealth, power, a name people respected, feared. And now? Now I'm nothing!" He slammed his hook against the table. "Not even a shred of human dignity left to call my own!"
The students in the hall began whispering among themselves as they pieced together the identity of the broken man before them. Their former caretaker now reduced to a shadow of his former self.
"Still as deluded as ever, I see," Rowena said, her arms crossed and her tone sharp. "Feared? Perhaps. Respected? Not in the slightest. Believe me, Creedy, no one under this roof ever had a shred of respect for you." Her gaze was colder than the winter air outside. "And let's not forget, you're nothing more than a filthy little thief. How many slaves did you steal from the Academy? How many lives did you ruin just to line your own cursed pockets?"
Her words dripped with contempt. "After what you did to Raine, you're fortunate this is all you've got. If I had a hand in your sentencing, you'd be dangling from a noose instead of walking these halls."
"Shut your mouth, you Scottish harpy!" Creedy barked, spittle flying as he glared at Rowena. "Those cursed slaves deserved every bit of what I gave them—if anything, I should've done worse!" His fist clenched as he seethed. "Do you know what they did to me? Those disgusting, low-born wretches wouldn't even let me into the Slave Quarters! Every time I tried, they'd beat me senseless and throw me out like garbage. They let me starve! Not one of them would lift a finger to help me."
His voice rose. "I was forced to sleep on the cold, filthy floor of the cellar, no blankets, no sheets—just rats gnawing at my feet and roaches crawling through my hair!" He gestured wildly; his face twisted with bitterness. "No one will even speak to me. It's like I'm invisible—lower than dirt! And when I told Anton about it, that smug bastard had the nerve to say I deserved it!"
His chest heaved, his gaze darting from Rowena to the others, searching for some shred of sympathy that wasn't there.
Helga crossed her arms, letting out an exaggerated sigh of exasperation. "What exactly did you expect, Creedy? A hero's welcome?" she said. Her amber eyes narrowed as a smirk tugged at her lips. "Did you honestly think they'd throw themselves at your feet, praising the Gods for the triumphant return of their 'benevolent' master? Rowena's right, you're as delusional as you are pathetic."
She straightened up. "I'd say you're lucky they didn't decide to string you up by your nuts and leave you for the vultures." Her smirk widened. "But hey, if you stick to being such an insufferable prick, perhaps next time they will."
Creedy ignored her jibe as he leaned in closer to Godric, his face twisted with venomous fury. His breath reeked, teeth chipped and yellowed, as he jabbed a trembling finger toward him. "Listen to me, boy, and listen well," he snarled. "No matter how long it takes, no matter what it costs me, I will make you pay. Tenfold. For everything."
His glare burned with hatred. "You, your pathetic little friends, and that filthy mutt you're so infatuated with—I'll make sure you all regret it!"
The hall fell into a tense silence, the air thick with anticipation as Godric stood unmoving, his gaze unwavering. Creedy's words hung like a toxic cloud, daring a response. The boy's jaw tightened, and his eyes burned with an icy calm. Without a word, he grabbed a nearby goblet of butterbeer, tipping it over Creedy's head. The liquid drenched his unkempt hair, streamed down his face, and soaked his tattered jumpsuit. It dripped onto the floor in messy puddles as the entire hall watched, stunned.
Godric dropped the empty goblet with a loud clang that echoed through the hall. He leaned in close. "Clean that up," he said coldly. "Slave."
He turned on his heel and strode toward the doors, leaving the hall in stunned silence. Helga, Rowena, and Salazar exchanged smirks before following him, their departure as purposeful as their arrival.
"Creedy!" Anton's voice boomed across the hall. "Grab a mop and clean up that bloody mess before I have your sorry behind shipped back to Revel's End! Worthless waste of space—why do we even keep you around?"
The students burst into laughter, others into murmurs and whispers as Creedy stood frozen, drenched and humiliated, the weight of his actions now as unshakable as the collar around his neck.