SnitchSeeker.com - View Single Post - Lesson: History of Magic: The Chamber of Secrets

sweetpinkpixie · 07-02-2026, 10:12 PM

Iris slipped into the classroom with her History of Magic text tucked beneath one arm and another balanced precariously atop the stack already threatening to spill from her satchel. A brisk morning always seemed to sharpen her thoughts, and despite the early hour, there was an unmistakable spring to her step as she offered Professor Amstern an easy smile and polite 'good morning' on her way toward an open seat at the front.

She had considered the back for a moment, breaking routine but inviting particular company, before deciding against it. Her eyes flicked around the classroom, noticing identical mirrors waiting for every student before settling back on her own, a coruscation of curiosity brightening her expression as she settled into place.

She lifted it carefully by the edge of its frame, turning it over between her hands. Silver. Nicely crafted. Older than she first expected, judging by the wear along the handle... though the reflective surface itself—

Her nose wrinkled.

"It looks like someone polished it with chimney soot."

She angled it toward the nearest window, squinting through the cloudy film coating the glass before giving one experimentally ineffective puff of breath against it ― it did precisely nothing. She finally angled it towards herself and could just barely make out her own hazy outline.

"Oh, good," Iris offered the blurred silhouette a small, approving nod. "You're there. Certainly a relief to know, at the very least, I've still got enough of a soul to warrant a reflection."

She had been on a bit of a Bram Stoker re-read, you see.

The quip carried more truth than she cared to admit. Months spent buried in obscure texts on ancient curses and Dark magic had done curious things to her imagination. Too many accounts blurred the line between folklore and fact; too many accounts that soul could be splintered, stolen, tethered, or hollowed out entirely ― and not just to create horcruxes. Many she dismissed as embellishment, but after everything her family had endured, she had learned not to dismiss every impossible story outright. Seeing even the faintest suggestion of her own reflection offered a quiet, irrational comfort. At least she wasn't about to add centuries old superstition to the growing catalogue of things worth worrying about.

07-02-2026, 10:12 PM	#4 (permalink)
sweetpinkpixie SSRPG Admin Gladrags Mod Quibbler Mod Minister for Magic Alley Proprietor Sea Serpent Join Date: Aug 2010 Location: The Paths Posts: 41,480 Hogwarts RPG Name: Professor Cox Ravenclaw Graduated Hogwarts RPG Name: CJ Miller Gryffindor Fourth Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Nyle Harden Hufflepuff Seventh Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Iris Harden Ravenclaw Seventh Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Calliope Barrington Slytherin Sixth Year Ministry Department Head: Charles Hollingberry Minister's Office Ministry Department Head: Airey Flamsteed Mysteries Diagon Alley Proprietor: Victor García Massey Ollivanders x12 x12	astronomizzle ♧ gryffinDORK \| & the rest is drag ♣ #badluckDerf Iris slipped into the classroom with her History of Magic text tucked beneath one arm and another balanced precariously atop the stack already threatening to spill from her satchel. A brisk morning always seemed to sharpen her thoughts, and despite the early hour, there was an unmistakable spring to her step as she offered Professor Amstern an easy smile and polite 'good morning' on her way toward an open seat at the front. She had considered the back for a moment, breaking routine but inviting particular company, before deciding against it. Her eyes flicked around the classroom, noticing identical mirrors waiting for every student before settling back on her own, a coruscation of curiosity brightening her expression as she settled into place. She lifted it carefully by the edge of its frame, turning it over between her hands. Silver. Nicely crafted. Older than she first expected, judging by the wear along the handle... though the reflective surface itself— Her nose wrinkled. "It looks like someone polished it with chimney soot." She angled it toward the nearest window, squinting through the cloudy film coating the glass before giving one experimentally ineffective puff of breath against it ― it did precisely nothing. She finally angled it towards herself and could just barely make out her own hazy outline. "Oh, good," Iris offered the blurred silhouette a small, approving nod. "You're there. Certainly a relief to know, at the very least, I've still got enough of a soul to warrant a reflection." She had been on a bit of a Bram Stoker re-read, you see. The quip carried more truth than she cared to admit. Months spent buried in obscure texts on ancient curses and Dark magic had done curious things to her imagination. Too many accounts blurred the line between folklore and fact; too many accounts that soul could be splintered, stolen, tethered, or hollowed out entirely ― and not just to create horcruxes. Many she dismissed as embellishment, but after everything her family had endured, she had learned not to dismiss every impossible story outright. Seeing even the faintest suggestion of her own reflection offered a quiet, irrational comfort. At least she wasn't about to add centuries old superstition to the growing catalogue of things worth worrying about. __________________ We broke into a million pieces, and we can't go back......................................... But now we're seeing all the beauty in the broken glass..................................... The scars are part of me, darkness and harmony My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like