Take a deep breath as you look upon the weirdly majestic roof of the Slitherin Palace. See the snake like scales that make up the roof, the rounded spires and mini turrets reaching for the sky.
Inside there is darkness, there is a melancholy air and there are the machinations of magic. This is where the dark lords of misrule plan their deeds. They walk along it's sloping passageways (for all floors are uneven) with long capes swishing on the dusty floor. The velvet is old and worn but still maintains its rank and majesty of days long gone, long past in the mists of time and magic and wizards and folklore. Footsteps echo like the clanging of bells.
Candles drip wax on heavy dark tables and lean drunkenly from their sconces along those winding passages that twist and turn around this strange mysterious building. The air is still and has the smell of lost time, past thoughts and deeds hanging with a heaviness and an almost humidly damp air.
Slitherin Palace rises high above the winding river, it is landmark and focal point in a peaceful land that should not hold such thoughts and images. The fields are full of green and calm, the sky is blue with tactile clouds that flit here and there like the opening scene of The Simpsons.
It is missplaced in the land of sunshine, a reminder of darker times, of ages past. A time when witchcraft was feared and burning at the stake was the punishment for a life led against the norm.
Hmmmmm Slitherin Palace. Actually it is a church spire in a town in the Loire region. But it just makes you (well okay, me) think all sorts of things as to what it could have been. It threw me into Harry Potterdom as fast as a trip down Diagon Ally.