In Slytherin Colors

If she hadn't been a fifth year student, she would have been able to admit to herself that she was thoroughly lost. But pride kept her from acknowledging it as she stepped through the darkening corridors of the castle.

Somewhere in the last fifteen minutes, trying to find stairs that would lead down to the dungeons had turned into a ‘well-deserved stroll to clear her mind’ —- while looking for stairs that would lead down to the dungeon.

A muscle ticked near her temple with exasperation. The Slytherin had been looking for the last half hour, and every set of stairs she had been on leading down had switched to swing upwards when she stepped on them.

As a Prefect, she was allowed out of her dormitory past curfew, but she’d been done with rounds ages ago. If the caretaker found her here, or if his insufferable pet cat found her out here, she’d get written up for detention for sure.

Still the stairs continued to lead her upwards despite her best intentions. Her hoofbeats slowed till she was standing stock still in the middle of the stairs, brows knit together.

What if she went upstairs, where the castle clearly was trying to lead her? Her brows slowly unknit as her frustration with herself morphed into curiosity, after all, if the castle wanted her to go someplace, how was she, a student, to stop it?

With noticeably less frustration, Ember turned and began going up. Stairs didn't shift or turn in the opposite direction as she wound her way up them. The mare’s mind drifted from her current predicament as she followed the path the castle set out for her, it was going a lot faster now that she had given in to it’s mysterious plans.

Her hooves clicked solemnly on the marble floor. She’d heard older students speak of the castle’s movements as though it were a living being. Professors regularly spoke of the castle as knowing what was needed for students and instructors alike, to keep the school happy and running. But this was her only first-hoof experience with the phenomena.

What on earth could it possibly want? She resigned herself to just hoping that it wasn't trying to get her caught for being out of bounds past curfew.

Finally, Ember stopped when the castle dropped her off on a level, near the top— without a second staircase swinging up to take her higher. She considered briefly taking the stairs that pointed down— but she didn't really want to start this process again.

The mare stood at the end of the hall and looked into the gloomy depths of it. A quick glance at the clutter of the hall granted her bearings. This was where her Advanced Charms and Thaumaturgy classes were held. Her ears drooped. She’d been able to avoid thinking about both classes this evening. After her less than stellar performance on the tests in them two days ago.

Why did the castle want to bring her here… Her patience and curiosity started to ebb away, hurt pride bringing a scowl to her muzzle. She glanced back at the stair that led down, hopefully to the dungeon. Ember didn't want to be here, but the stair rumbled, as if it were rising upwards, almost threateningly. The Slytherin rolled her eyes and stared forward down the hall. All of the classrooms doors were shut. No surprise this far past curfew.

The door of one of the underutilized study halls across from the Thaumaturgy classroom creaked open in a way that almost drove Ember to shrieking.

The mare dug her hooves into the hard stone of the hallway’s floor, white showing all the way around her eyes as she tried to get over her momentary heart attack. She felt like she’d been transported to one of the muggle horror movies her friends had dragged her to during summer break.

The half-blood tried to get the very muggle comparison out of her head and compose herself. Just like a muggle to jump at the thought of ghosts and demons when she’d seen the school ghosts in the past. Picturing some of her classmates sneering idiocy at her helped cool her head.

Ember stiffened her shoulders and stepped purposefully towards the door. She had listened to the castle this far, why stop now? She nudged the door open with her forehoof and looked around before stepping inside.

It was an average empty room. She was aware that the tension in her shoulders and back started to loosen despite trying desperately to pretend that it didn't exist at all. She let out a relieved sigh— no, a small yawn, that was all, and stepped up to one of the desk cushions to sit for a moment.

Perhaps the castle was trying to tell her to practice? The notion seemed absurd, why would a enormous magical building tell her to study? If it did that it wouldn't have time to sleep— well, it didn't really sleep did it, but meaning behind the expression held true still. The Slytherin looked around again, now that she was fully inside the room and her keen blue eyes landed on something tall and fabric covered just behind the door, out of eyesight from where she’d originally stood.

She stiffened, wary again. Ember stared at the tall thing for long minutes, holding her breath in case it was someone standing beneath the fabric— doing what exactly? The long minutes passed with absolutely no motion from the cloth, not even breathing… And the Slytherin released the held breath.

Curious now, and inwardly cursing herself for foolish muggle fear, she stepped forward and stepped on the covering to pull it down. The dusty cloth fell in a heap, sending clouds of dust in every direction. After a few sneezes, Ember opened her watery eyes to try and focus on what was beneath the cloth.

It was a large— gilded mirror..? Except that wasn't right, her reflection was hazy and fading away, and it continued to do so after her eyes cleared from the dust. The image swirled slowly, like the surface of a pond that was disturbed by the barest of winds. When the mirror’s surface stilled, it showed bookcases— a row of bookcases, full of books and signs like Flourish and Blots, proclaiming in enchanted voices about new arrivals or special editions or sales.

Something tugged at the mare’s heart when she saw them. These— these books were important— so important, how did she even know that? She leaned forward to look closer at the bindings. When it came into focus, her gasp echoed in the silent room.

Blue eyes darted from spine to spine. They all— they all were written by her! E. Quill adorned the spines of every single book— and there were so many different spines— it wasn't just multiple copies of one book— there were at least ten or twenty in the bookcases, all credited to her.

Struck dumb by the shock of it, Ember didn't even attempt to move when the mirror began to swirl again. Each time it stopped swirling she was bombarded with a new image, they lasted shorter and shorter as it became clear what they all had in common. The books on the shelves, herself at a signing table, the faces of mares and stallions, fillies and colts, all reading her books.

The last image in the reel remained as she sat there in stunned silence, and it was the one that brought the tears in her eyes cascading down her cheeks. Her charms professor stood in front of a class… he looked older, the students younger—- and the books they had before them on their desks— were hers.

Her eyes closed, squeezing shut for all their worth to shut out the image in the mirror. After this week— the image seemed more of a cruel joke than a foretelling of future events. This— this is what she wanted more than anything.