Certain Dark Things || Book Two

xlvii. the heir of slytherin

From one step to the next, the cold rippled over Harriet like the first wind of winter, cutting through her robes and sweater, clinging and biting, and then—.

Nothing. Harriet gasped and gawked at a blank stone wall.

"No," she whispered, touching the wall, her fingertips scrabbling at the sharp grooves between the blocks. "No, no, no—Elara! Longbottom? Open! Open!"

The wall didn't budge.

Of course not, Harriet told herself in a stern, logical voice that sounded quite like Hermione. The Mirrors only go one way—and it's not as if I have a lot of experience with them. Merlin help me.

Gulping, she slowly—slowly—turned herself around.

The first thing Harriet noted were the books; it was impossible to not pause and take it all in, the towering cases, the gilded light falling through the mullioned windows, and the hundreds upon hundreds of volumes crowding the wood shelves. She appeared to be in an average Hogwarts corridor, except for those shelves and those books. She'd never seen anything like those out in Hogwarts' thoroughfares. Harriet took a few tentative steps forward, inspecting the corridor, peeking from one end to the other, seeing where the corners turned out of sight. The shelves crowded every available space but for where the windows were set and the occasional blank spot on the wall holding plaques of Ravenclaw's bronze eagle. There were no torches, only odd spheres of orange light suspended overhead—almost like the ones had seen in the Underneath.

Harriet peered out one of the windows, hoping for a clue as to her whereabouts, but the view was distorted, blurred and smudged, shapes in the distance oddly formed or just incomprehensible. The light coming through the fuzzy glass flickered and pooled like...candlelight. She shook her head and stepped away.

"Okay," Harriet whispered, urging Livi out from under her robes. "Can you help me find the exit? We need to get out of here!"

"Ssss...." The serpent curled and wended his way around Harriet's shoulders, lifting his head in the air. His violet tongue flitted several times and Harriet waited for his verdict, listening to the unsettling silence pervading the otherwise charming passage. "The air here isss...flat."

She agreed; every breath went down like a stale biscuit, and while Harriet didn't spot a single mote of dust on any surface and magic seemed to vibrate under her feet, a kind of static pall had come over her, prickling against her skin and her awareness. The air didn't move. The small click-clack of her footsteps didn't echo. Harriet snapped her fingers and the louder sound hung by her, fading far too soon.

Her shadow darkened and pooled as Set made his presence known, stretching toward the left turn in the passage.

"Is that where the exit is?" she asked, her trust in the shadowy creature a touch more dubious after the incident with the Underneath. He'd gotten her out and shown her Salazar Slytherin's book, but Harriet couldn't quite bring herself to forgive him for that split second of sheer and utter terror when she'd felt hands grab her ankles and yank her down into the dark.

An arm formed, and the hand with its too-long fingers pointed toward the left.

"...okay."

Harriet pulled her wand out from its brace and held it at the ready as she walked. She realized her bag hadn't made it through the Moon Mirror with her, most likely dropped when Longbottom pushed her and she lost her balance. She cursed the Prat Who Lived and prayed she didn't need Salazar's book at any point. She'd hex Longbottom bloody when she got out of there, damn the consequence.

What if I can't get out?

Harriet shook her head and refused the insidious thought purchase. No, there has to be an exit. It's a library, not a prison.