Heart hammering, Lyra tentatively pushed open the door to the headmistress’s office. “Your Highness?” It looked like you’d expect the office of a kindly headmistress to look, with the dark wood fixtures, the full-wall bookshelves full of old books, the globes and maps (not all of which were of Equus). It was night outside the room’s one tall, narrow window, and the only illumination came from the soft orange glow of a slumbering phoenix. A fireplace on the far wall lay still and cold.

A homey enough place, by all appearances, and not the graveyard of all Lyra’s hopes and dreams. Which was what it was going to become if she didn’t start talking very fast.

“Miss Heartstrings. Have a seat.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Lyra wasn’t usually inclined to be so polite to authority, but she loved studying here at CSGU. She knew she’d messed up. She hoped Celestia had called her to her office

“Would you like some cake?”

“No thank you,” she said in a hoarse whisper, almost a croak. Her throat was closed up with fear. She could barely find her voice. She didn’t think she could eat, and if she did, she felt so nauseous that she wasn’t sure she could keep it down.

“Tea? It’s ginger.”

Lyra nodded. That would help. Celestia poured a cup and levitated it over. She sipped. The faint spice of the brew tickled her tongue, loosened her throat, settled her belly.

A thick binder lay on Celestia’s desk. Her Highness brushed a bit of dust from the top and opened it. “I’m required to explain to you that Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns takes substance abuse very seriously. Then I’m expected to lecture you at length about making better life choices. Blah blah blah disgraceful behavior, you have brought shame on your family for generations to come. Then I think I’m meant to hit you in the nose with a rolled-up newspaper.”

Frozen in mid-sip, Lyra stared at Celestia. She sat, back straight, long neck held high, resplendent in her golden crown and peytral. Her expression appeared entirely earnest. Was... was she serious?

“Well?” said Celestia. “What do you think of that?”

Lyra swallowed hard. “Please don’t.”

“Are you sorry for snorting Crystal Math^{[url][https://www.fimfiction.net/story/471899/31/fallout-equestria-pillars-of-society/footnotes-prologue]3[/url]}?”

“Very.” It had been an incredibly, unspeakably unpleasant experience. One dose had blown open the doors of perception so wide that she had been able to sense the spaces between atoms. Intellectually, she had been aware that the apparently-solid world was mostly teeny tiny atoms fuzzily bounding around mostly empty space. To actually sense those yawning voids all around her was not something she’d been prepared for. When she’d come out of the vision, screaming and restrained in the school infirmary, she had wept tears of trauma and relief.

“Do you swear to me that you will never make unauthorized use of it again?”

“Uh... yes. I swear.” You didn’t have to ask her twice.

“And—this is the actual important part—do you promise me on the sun and the moon that you used the Crystal Math only recreationally, and not to help you in your schoolwork?”

Lyra reared back, actually offended. “No. No? No! I don’t know why I’d need to.”

The corner of Celestia’s mouth twitched upward slightly.

Lyra backpedaled furiously. “I don’t mean to imply your school is too easy. It’s good. Very challenging. I would totally be tempted to use magic-enhancing drugs to help me through it if I didn’t have such strong willpower and moral principles.”

Celestia levitated a quill over from her ink pot and signed the first several pieces of paper in the binder. “All right, then. I think I can make this go away. I can make it go away exactly once, do you understand? I’ve worked very hard to make sure my power is not absolute—I’ve always believed my little ponies need to be able to stand on their own four hooves, and my government needs to do the right thing, rather than what I tell them to do. The Canterlot Geological Survey, in particular, is relentless in its pursuit of these kinds of violations, and even I can’t put them off the scent too often.

“Which is as it should be. Crystal Math is a very dangerous substance. It is highly addictive, and it’s very easy to overdose on it without realizing it. Not to mention all the garbage unscrupulous drug dealers cut it with. Magical drugs are for magical emergencies, do you understand?”

Lyra nodded vigorously.

“On the bright side,” said Celestia, flipping through the large binder, “This incident gave me cause to review your academic performance in detail.”

“Is that my... my...”

“Your permanent record, yes.”

Lyra held her hoof to her lower lip, her eyes wide with awe. “I’d believed it was only a legend.”

“Oh, it’s very real. But not as permanent as you might have been led to believe.” She pulled several forms out of the pile and held them over Philomina’s snoring form until they caught fire. Then she levitated them into the hearth and nestled them in between two logs. “While I’m clearing your record of a drug infraction, I might as well get rid of the notes on your misuse of school paste in magic kindergarten.

“So. Your grades are respectable, but unremarkable by CGSU standards. Or so I believed. But close examination reveals that they’re not so much mediocre as they are highly inconsistent. Missed homework. Points off for discipline. Poor grades for in-class participation...”

Lyra raised her hoof.

Celestia glanced towards Lyra. “Yes, Miss Heartstrings?”

“I participate in class plenty. The teachers just don’t like it when I do.”

“Oh, I can’t imagine why. You seem like a delightful young lady.”

Lyra, once again unsure if Her Highness was being serious or not, held her tongue. The growing fire felt nice and warm against her side. With the flaming remains of her youthful paste-sniffing activities for kindling, the cold hearth had warmed to a bright, comforting glow.

“Meanwhile,” Celestia continued, “Your exams, your labs, your magic trials, all excellent. Plenty of extra-curriculars, and you get along well with your classmates. Overall an excellent student. It seems to me that you might not be sufficiently challenged by your schoolwork. You might’ve heard rumors—perhaps from your friends Twilight or Moondancer—that some of the courses CSGU offers are not listed in the registration catalog?”

“No, neither of them have ever mentioned anything like that.” This was a lie. Lyra was many things, but she was not a narc.

“If you say so,” said Celestia. “Regardless. There are truths about magic that I can only reveal to a chosen few. Though in many ways the secrets guard themselves: with great power comes an extraordinary amount of extra coursework. But to those who are gifted enough, I can offer an unsurpassed knowledge of the wonders of the universe, and an unmatched ability to help those in need.”

Lyra held still, barely daring to breathe, afraid that this was a dream and that the slightest disturbance would snap her out of it. Or that this was one of Her Highness’s little pranks. She’d come into this office feeling like a condemned mare on the way to the gallows, and now she was being offered... everything she’d ever wanted. Real power. Real knowledge. Everything she’d ever dreamed of. Was this really happening? It was a little hard to believe.

Celestia waved her hoof in front of Lyra’s eyes. “Hello? Did I lose you?”

“I’m... alive,” said Lyra.

Celestia smiled softly. “So. Are you interested in becoming one of my personal students?”

“Yes. Please,” said Lyra.

Hopefully this scene will go a little way towards satisfying those who say Lyra is OP.