Nostalgic grey key
Two masked wizards stood in the shadows on either side of the black door, their wands clutched in their hands, surrounded by powerful forces, ready to move. The shadows were full of shadows; someone else had arrived, clutching his wand more tightly, walking steadily, his coat rolling over his silver boots, and he glided to the door, drawing his silver-gloved hand from his bosom. The gatekeeper took the letter, glanced at it, bent down, stretched his hand, and pushed open the closed door.
The cart carrying rare treasures under a blanket of grey cloth was slowly pushed up to the dais by two wizards. The presiding wizard was beaming, his face covered in a white mask trimmed with purple feathers, his voice booming, his upright waist bent at a standard ninety degrees below the stage. "Ladies and gentlemen! This is the grand finale you've all been waiting for!"
Below, a crowd of wizards and wizards had arrived from all directions, carrying wands of various sizes and colors hidden in their dark sleeves, straining at the same moment. The presiding wizard gently grabbed a corner of the grey cloth on the cart and pucked his lips. "But before that," said the presiding wizard with an amused smile, "let us shout the great slogan!"
Thousands of wizards twitched at the corners of their mouths, rolled their eyes, slowly lifted a leg, raised their hands in a comical gesture of surrender, and grunted, "Merlin's underpants!" Several wizards swayed unsteadily, and even one in a red cloak shook violently, his hands and feet shaking like chaff.
Straightening his body, the host wizard smiled and nodded his head with satisfaction. He flung up his gray cloth, flashing gold like the cold glow of soldiers flying through the battlefield. The crowd raised their sleeves to cover it.
But the ecstasies on the faces of the crowd solidified warily as they saw who was above. His chest was choked like a stone, and there was silence on stage and off. "Huh? The presiding wizard suddenly froze like a thunderbolt, his confident look disappeared quietly, and the flying grey cloth fell to the ground.
Half an enormous egg lay in a golden bowl, its shell torn clean and cut in a neat way, with the word "fool" scrawled across it on a piece of sheepskin. Underneath, he drew a ridiculous face, pulling at his eyelids and sticking out his tongue, silently mocking everyone present.
Anger raged through the crowd, and when it reached a critical point, it erupted like a volcano. 'Damn it! The taunted wizards roared and cursed, and the once-spirited presiding wizard shivered and wanted to crawl into the ground as the furious eyes of the crowd turned on him. With a trembling gulp, he managed to open his mouth, "Calm down, calm down, have a good talk." Someone pointed a vicious finger at his nose, burning with anger. "It's you! You tricked us!" The tangled crowd clambered onto the stage and jumped on him.
Before thousands of hands hit the presiding wizard like hammers, someone waved a huge hand and a flash of light shot through it like an arrow. The aftershock shook the thick crowd and the presiding wizard stumbled backwards, his pale back against the hard wall, struggling to keep his figure. "Ha ha! A bell of laughter seemed to fall from the sky, and a red figure appeared out of nowhere behind the discomfiture presiding wizard.
The head of the master wizard, who had escaped death, was drooping and panting, and when a hand was placed on his shoulder, he shuddered and turned his head so that his long red bangs covered half of the man's face except for the upturned corners of his mouth. His eyes contracted violently, shaking like an earthquake. Even if the breath of the other side was imperceptible, the majesty of the world was shrouded in tight clothing and could not be blocked.
He let out a long sigh, and the red wizard's white fingers played idly with the strands of hair that hung as red as blood from his cloak. Keenly sensing a glance from somewhere, he glanced at the Silver-robed wizard who was standing nearby. They caught each other, and the other averted his eyes in embarrassment, pretending not to care. He raised his eyebrows, dare not do, funny. And before the man could react, the Red Wizard moved closer.
"Hi " he gave a friendly hello, calmly extended his jointed hand. Clearly surprised, the Silver Wizard hesitated for a moment, then held out his own whiter hand. It was cool and comfortable to the touch, only sickly pale, the Red Wizard thought sadly.
At the first touch, his hand seemed to touch a moxibustion of hot fire, burning him to the embers. The Wizard of the Silver Robe was terrified, but his face did not change. A little friction between the skin is also extreme, soft to the touch. It was not the first time he had shaken hands with someone, but this time it was different. His heart was rippling, his face unconsciously relaxed, but what was different? Heart this familiar and strange beat.
"Nice to meet you, I'm Godric. Gryffindor."
"Salazar Slytherin," he said.