"What. Did. You. Two. Do?"
My voice echoes through the Great Hall, loud enough to shake the new chandeliers we hung last week. I'm standing at the base of the grand staircase — the now moving grand staircase — watching as the steps twist, shudder, and then calmly swing halfway across the hall before connecting to a completely different corridor.
Rowena and Salazar stand side by side, both looking way too innocent.
Rowena's holding a half-empty bottle of firewhisky, while Salazar's pretending to examine his sleeve like it's suddenly the most fascinating thing in existence.
"Well," Rowena begins in that careful, scholarly tone that means she's about to say something stupid, "technically, the spell worked."
"Worked?" I hiss. "Rowena, the stairs are alive. They just tried to throw me off a landing!"
Salazar chuckles under his breath. "You have to admit, it's… creative."
I glare at him. "Creative? They move randomly! How is anyone supposed to navigate this place?"
He shrugs, smirking like the smug snake he is. "It's not random. They follow the castle's mood."
I blink at him. "The castle's mood?"
Rowena jumps in, her hands waving animatedly as she starts explaining — because of course she does. "You see, the enchantment wasn't supposed to bind to the foundational wards, but— well, Salazar thought it would be fun to test a reactive architecture charm, and the castle—"
"Liked it," Salazar finishes, still smiling like this is the best thing that's ever happened.
I throw my hands up. "Oh, wonderful! The sentient castle likes your drunk spellwork! That's exactly what I needed!"
The staircase groans behind me, sliding again. I turn just in time to see one of the side staircases twist upward and detach from the wall entirely, spinning lazily before reconnecting two floors higher. A few loose parchments go flying.
Rowena bites her lip. "To be fair, it's a brilliant display of magical architecture—"
"Rowena Ravenclaw," I interrupt sharply, "you were drunk. Don't dress this up as an academic experiment."
She opens her mouth, closes it, then looks at the bottle in her hand and sighs. "Okay, maybe slightly inebriated."
Salazar grins. "Moderately inebriated."
"Heavily inebriated," I correct, glaring at both of them. "You two nearly turned my castle into a funhouse!"
Rowena winces. "Your castle?"
"Yes, my castle. I'm the one who designed half of it, poured my mana into every wall, carved the foundations with twelve golems, and—"
A loud creak interrupts me as one of the smaller staircases shifts again, depositing Helga halfway across the hall with a startled yelp.
She blinks, adjusts her apron, and frowns. "What in Merlin's name is going on now?"
I point at the two culprits. "Them. They decided to give the castle a sense of humor."
Helga's eyes narrow. "Again?"
Rowena groans softly. "It was one time."
"It's always one time with you two!" I snap, pacing back and forth. "You've permanently integrated this ridiculous moving staircase system into the castle's magic. Do you know how much energy it takes to rewrite something bound to the core wards?"
Rowena and Salazar exchange a glance — the kind of glance that says, she's right, but let's not admit it.
I take a deep breath, pressing a hand to my forehead. "Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. Hogwarts — the finest magical school in history — is now equipped with the world's most inconvenient staircases."
There's a long pause. Then Salazar, completely deadpan, says, "At least it builds character."
"Salazar!"
He bursts out laughing. Even Rowena's trying not to smile, hiding it behind her hand.
I turn around, muttering curses under my breath. The castle hums softly, its magic pulsing through the walls, almost as if it's amused.
I glare up at the ceiling. "Don't you start, too."
A faint, teasing creak echoes in reply. One of the staircases shifts again—just a few steps—to nudge me sideways off balance.
I catch myself, groaning. "Fine! Fine! You win!"
Behind me, Rowena's laughter rings out, bright and unrestrained. For a moment, I can't help but smile too, even as the castle continues its mischievous dance.
This place really has a mind of its own now. And, against all logic, part of me loves it for that.
Even if I'll never find my bedroom again.