Something glitters in Cal’s eye. If not for the Silent Stone, I know his hands would shudder with flame. He leans forward slightly, lips pulling back against his even, white teeth. It’s so aggressive and animalistic I expect to see fangs.
“I am your rightful king, Silver-born for centuries,” he replies, seething. “The only reason you’re still breathing is because I can’tburnthe oxygen from this room.”
We are Gryffindor.
We are red and gold.
We are the roar in the wild.
We are ashes and smoke.
We are loud jokes and pub crawls with our mates. We are tough but we don’t care.
Sometimes our mouth is faster then our mind.
Sometimes our wand is faster then our thoughts.
We might apologise.
We run before we walk and ride into the sun. We are the spark of the revolution and the kids from yesterday.
We are the legends of tomorrow.
We are the firework in the sky.
We bloom and sparkle and shine.
Lights only shine in the dark.
And sometimes the dark is stronger then our glow.
Sometimes the cold is harsher then our flames.
Sometimes we grit our teeth and try to hold on.
And sometimes that doesn’t work.
Sometimes our adventures turn into disasters.
Sometimes our pranks hurt.
And you blame us.
And so do we.
And we are sorry.
Sometimes my friends turn away.
And I am left.
Sometimes I wish I could be more like them.
But then they are back.
And we laugh together.
Write stories together.
And I know we can make it.
We are forever.
We are the lions.
We are the kings of our world.