They reached Edinburgh as the clock struck midnight. The wind blew, cold off the wild moors.

Salazar nervously fingered his locket. He looked at the words inscribed on it.
"Are we there yet?" the ornate snake on it asked. "No, be patient," he whispered to it in Parseltongue.

"Talking to your snake again, Sal?" Godric asked. "I still can't believe you can understand her."

"Can we get to the inn?" asked Helga. She was cold and miserable. She desperately wanted the warmth and comfort of the Honeyed Doxy Inn.

"All right Hel, as soon as I've made sure we have everything," said Rowena, checking the items in their packs.

"C'mon Ro, can't we go in now?" Godric asked. He too was tired and chilled to the bone.

"Hark who's talking Godric, where would you be without your socks?" Rowena told him.

Godric looked down at his feet rather sheepishly. He had always had a slightly unhealthy obsession with socks.

"Blast it! Godric's socks can wait! We're tired, hungry, cold, and on top of everything, it's started to rain." Helga exploded in one of her rare displays of anger. The others nodded fervently.

"Oh all right," Rowena said, slightly flustered by her friend's outburst.

The four walked to the door which Salazar opened and they entered eagerly. The atmosphere was cozy, the barmaid had rosy cheeks, and the patrons were only slightly tipsy. A small wash boy scuttled across the floor.

"Two rooms please," Godric said to the woman at the bar.

"Double or single?" the girl replied.

"Two single beds per room, if you please," he told her.

"Up the stairs, to the right and turn right again, rooms 155 and 156. That will be fourteen Galleons please."

"Thank you," Gopdric said, handing her the gold coins. They said their goodbyes and began to climb up the long staircase.

* * *

Godric put his sword under his pillowcase, where he always kept it. It made him feel strong and important (and he knew no one would touch his socks.)

Salazar ran his long, pale fingers over the surface of his ring in his last waking moments before falling into a dreamless sleep.

Rowena put her diadem on and looked in the mirror, and she felt her mind fill with questions which she happily fell asleep contemplating.

Helga placed her mother's cup with her family crest on it up on the mantel, the yellow, gold, and black obsidian looked stunning in the firelight. Helga slept remembering her happy childhood and her mother baking her treacle tart.

As the four slept peacefully, power reared its ugly head and the friends would not always remain so.