The Librarian's Club

The Tech Screptam

When Bobbie was younger, she used to think that there was no place quite like her house anywhere on earth. Now that she was older, she knew there wasn't. For Bobbie's home was the Tech Screptam - the oldest and largest wizarding library in Britain. Of course she didn't actually live in the library, but in the rooms behind it, although that distinction was entirely superficial. The book collections flowed seamlessly from the main library into the old library, which was now the Macmillans' apartment. In fact, the place that was usually known to the public as the Tech Screptam (and which the Macmillans' affectionately referred to as the 'Pubbly') was really only the tip of a very large iceberg.

For a start, there was the Macmillans' living area, which was stuffed with books that had become outdated or old-fashioned and consequently been removed from public view. They sat in stacks in the corners of rooms, were wedged in the gaps between cupboards and piled three deep on the shelves. Visitors who used the bathroom often didn't emerge for hours; it was papered with stray pages of ancient spell books and worn-out novels. But even the entire contents of the Macmillans' residence and the Pubbly combined didn't make up a quarter of what lay quietly concealed in the Vaults. That was where the most interesting books were kept, the ones that could only be taken out by special request, and in rare cases only with a permit signed and counter-signed by the Department of Reading and Other Dangerous Activities.

And so it was that when Bobbie, a girl accustomed to vast amounts of books from her infancy, entered the great Cathedral-like chamber of snowy marble, with its towering shelves of books bound in every colour of the rainbow, she felt less overawed than hungry.

"Good old Pubbly," said Lance cheerfully, running a hand along the spines of one of the shelves of books. "Hey, I haven't seen this one before? Is it new?"

"Got it in last week," said Bobbie's father, smiling proudly.

"It's well bound." said Lance, sliding it off the shelf. "And the illustrations are excellent. The text is rather small, though."

"That's just what Markham said. I had to put a Magnifying charm on for him..."

"What's for lunch?" Bobbie cut in.

"Parsnip soup and home baked bread," her mother said proudly.

Bobbie smiled back half-heartedly. She was glad to be back home, of course, but she couldn't help missing Hogwarts food. Not that her mother was a bad cook, exactly. In fact, Bobbie suspected she might be quite good if only it weren't for the intimidating presence of a hundred and fifty-six recipe books sharing the kitchen with her. Yes, thought Bobbie pensively, the Macmillan family had certainly got their priorities wrong somewhere along the line.

"Cheer up," said Lance, poking her in the ribs, and then hissed in her ear, "At least it's not marrow."

Lance and Bobbie both loathed their mother's stuffed marrow, although somehow they had never had the heart to tell her so.

"Ah, here we are."

They had reached the back of the Pubbly where a marble archangel stood, her back to the wall, clasping a book to her bosom. Bobbie's father reached out with his wand and tapped her three times on the nose. A shiver ran through her out-stretched wings and her nose twitched three times, before she lifted her eyes from her book and smiled at the family.

"Hello Cherry," said Bobbie's father.

"Good afternoon," she said hazily. Her eyes fell on Lance.

"Why, Master Macmillan, are you back from school already? And Miss Roberta, too. How lovely." Cherry gave a slow smile, her marble mouth bending reluctantly.

"Hello, Cherry," said Lance. "You're looking nice today."

The angel's smile widened.

"I've just been cleaned," she whispered conspiratorially.

"Is that it? Well, you look centuries younger."

Bobbie rolled her eyes. Lance always had had a terrible way with statues.

"Yes - well," Cherry said, obviously flustered. "Now - what was I going to say? Oh, yes. Password?"

"Feles Nocte Exponenda," said Bobbie's father solemnly.

"Righto." The angel turned around slowly on the spot and sunk into the ground. A door appeared where she had been standing. Lance raised his eyebrows.

"Well, it helps me remember," their father said sheepishly. Bobbie's mother opened the door and they all climbed inside.

"Ouff," said Bobbie. She had forgotten about the drop. Lance laughed, not unkindly and picked her up off the flagged stone floor.

"Oh, Bobbie," her mother sighed. "When will you learn?"

Bobbie scowled. It was hardly her fault that the Old Library where the Macmillans lived was over fifteen centuries old, and had a different idea of where the ground should be than everywhere else.

"It's good for her, Mother," said Lance. "Falling three feet each day makes excellent training for professional Quidditch, eh, Bobbie?"

Bobbie stuck her tongue out at her brother, and seated herself at the dinner table.

"What's that smell?" her father asked, sniffing at the air.

"Oh, dear!" Bobbie's mother cried. "The soup!"

Bobbie exchanged a glance with her brother. He rolled his eyes, grinning.

"Home at last," he said.

***

In general Bobbie quite liked books. It was pretty hard to grow up a Macmillan and not like books, even if you did happen to be the black sheep (or lion, in her case) of the family. There were times, however, when Bobbie absolutely hated books. Today was one of these times.

"Another lot," said Lance, trundling in a cartful of returned books. "Haven't you finished those yet?"

"No," said Bobbie resentfully. "I'm afraid I don't have your natural flair for the Happleburne system."

"It shows." Lance said, unsympathetically.

Bobbie stuck out a tongue at his retreating back, and picked up the next book. Anatomy of an Albatross by Freda A. Winkle. Natural History, magical creatures section. She had a pile of those already. Why on earth did Natural History have to be on the other side of the library? Bobbie slapped the book down on top of A History of Hippogriffs, picked up the pile and headed off across the library.

"Morning, Bobbie." Cuthbert Snangle, a regular visitor to the library, nodded to her as she passed.

"Hi, Cuthbert. How's the book coming along?"

Cuthbert gave her a thumbs up and a wink. Bobbie smiled back and went on her way, weaving in and out of tables and through the passage ways between the shelves.

"- can't say it gives me a huge thrill, no, Mother -"A voice rang out from in front of her, sounding unnaturally loud in the muffled quiet of the library.

"Well, perhaps next time you would prefer that I leave you behind. I'm sure Kreacher would be glad for the company," a woman's voice replied, in a tone of forced evenness.

"I don't see why I can't just -"

"Your freedom, as I have made perfectly clear, depends entirely upon your own behaviour. I will not condone -"

There was a low muttering sound and then:

"Regulus' age is irrelevant. Regulus has exhibited a sense of pride in his heritage, and can be trusted to act accordingly. He shows a proper discernment about the company he keeps."

"So do I, Mother." Bobbie paused for a moment to listen. She recognized that voice. "I only ever keep company with decent human beings - when given the choice, of course."

Bobbie rounded the corner. A dark-haired boy stood in a clearing surrounded by a wall of shelves, glaring at the woman opposite him.

"Black?"

Sirius turned.

"Bobbie!" he cried. "What are you doing here? Merlin, it's good to see you! Here, let me take those."

And Bobbie's arms suddenly lightened as Sirius Black removed a good two thirds of the books she was holding.

"Er - hello," said Bobbie, who could not remember ever in her life being greeted with such enthusiasm by Black, who usually seemed aloof and rather bored. "How are you?"

Sirius made a face.

"Fabulous," he said moodily. Then, observing her surprised face, he shrugged. "I miss Hogwarts."

"Sirius?" said the woman, in a tone that cut every trace of pleasure out of her son's face. "Who is this person?"

Now that her view was unobstructed by books, Bobbie took a good look at the woman's face. It was strange to think of her as Sirius' mother. The features were similar, Bobbie supposed - the same dark hair, the same slender, slightly aquiline nose - but while Sirius' face was full of light and mobility, his mother's was as immovable as a lump of granite. The thick colourless lips looked as though they would be incapable of anything so human as a smile and the dark glittering eyes seemed to be the only thing still alive in the stiff pallid countenance.

"This person is Roberta Macmillan, of the House of Macmillan," Sirius said, with savage sarcasm. "Oh, don't worry, Mother, they've been Purebloods for at least eight generations."

The woman took a step towards Sirius, her eyes flashing. For a moment Bobbie thought she might hit her son, but she merely said, "I'll thank you, Sirius, not to talk to me in that insolent tone again." She rounded on Bobbie, who quailed.

"How do you do?" she said stiffly.

"I'm very well, thank you." Then, because she seemed to be expecting something more. "Pleased to meet you."

The woman gave a stately nod. Bobbie smiled nervously.

"Well - I'd better be taking these books back," she said.

"I'll help you," said Sirius. "All right?" He turned to his mother, a touch of defiance in his posture. The woman's - his mother's - lips tightened visibly.

"Very well," she said. "I will expect you back here in an hour. And do not even think of leaving the building. I will know."

Sirius didn't speak at all as they approached the Natural History section, his face almost as still and haughty as his mother's. As they reached the shelves, however, he perked up, his eyes full of amusement once more as they surveyed her.

"So, d'you work here, then?"

"I live here," said Bobbie, smiling. "The Macmillans have been librarians almost as long as they've been Purebloods."

Sirius didn't smile back.

"Look, just because my mother's - just because of what I said - doesn't mean I believe in all that blood rubbish, alright?"

"I know," said Bobbie, surprised, and then, "I don't, either."

"No sane person would," Sirius said shortly. "So where does this go?" He held up Anatomy of an Albatross.

"Oh, Merlin," said Bobbie. "I hate this stuff. Let's see - its Winkle, that's W, that makes fifteen - and it's green so you add five - here."

She pointed at a place. Sirius slotted it in.

"I didn't realise it was so complicated," he said.

"It's awful," said Bobbie. "Mind you, you should see Lance at it - Clarence Macmillan, he's my brother - "

"The Ravenclaw Prefect," said Sirius grimly. "I remember."

"Well, he can do them like that." She clicked her fingers. "I was always terrible at Arithmancy," she added mournfully.

"Well, then, this may just happen to be your lucky day." Sirius turned the full force of his smile on her. "I happen to be a genius at Arithmancy - and everything else for that matter."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," said Sirius. "So, what's the equation?"

Bobbie explained and Sirius got to work. She had to admit he was pretty good at it - nearly as good as Lance.

"And Knucklebacks and Kneazles - there. I could get used to this."

"Good," said Bobbie. "I've got a whole cartload waiting back at the main desk."

When they arrived back at the main desk (by-passing the Genealogy section where Sirius' mother sat immersed in a thick tome) they found Lily Evans leaning over the counter in deep conversation with a rather ruffled and grimy looking Lance.

"Bobbie!" Lily looked up as they approached. "And Black. What are you doing here?"

"Learning the ways of the librarian," said Sirius, then added in a stage whisper, "It's a doddle."

"You," said Lance emphatically, "haven't been down to the Vaults."

"Is that how you got so dirty?" Bobbie remarked. "You look like me after Quidditch practice."

"Vault seven," said Lance darkly. "The door's jamming again. I had to blast it open, and of course half a ton of dirt fell on me -"

"Vault Seven," said Bobbie, with interest. Only highly sensitive information was ever placed there. "Why -"

Lance cleared his throat loudly, casting a pointed look in Sirius' direction. Bobbie sighed. She wished Lance wouldn't take the Secrecy Restrictions so seriously.

Sirius shot Lance a curious look, then seemed to decide not to pursue the subject. He turned to Lily.

"So how are you, Evans? Still out to break poor James' heart?"

Lily scowled.

"Actually," she addressed herself to Bobbie, "I talked to him yesterday."

"You did?" Bobbie was surprised. Lily was always saying how much she hated Potter.

"Yes, and I expect he'll be trying to get in contact with you soon, Sirius."

"He'll be lucky," Sirius muttered.

"There's a meeting at eleven o'clock, in the Leaky Cauldron."

"What kind of meeting?"

Lily lowered her voice mysteriously.

"A meeting for people opposed to what the Death Eaters are doing," she said. "That's all I can say here."

Sirius' face sharpened into interest.

"I'll be there," he said at once.

"Me too," said Bobbie. Lance nodded, smiling at Lily.

"Good. Will you be seeing Raina?"

Bobbie nodded.

"I'll Floo her."

"That's all right then. I'd better get going."

"Already?" said Lance.

"My gran's staying over." said Lily. "Her house is being redecorated, so she's camping out at ours. We're all supposed to be having family time." Lily's eyes gleamed. "Petunia hates it."

"Well, bye," Bobbie said as Lily hugged her.

"See you Saturday. Oh, and by the way - don't owl me. My gran doesn't know about magic."

"I'll remember," said Bobbie.

"Bye, Lily," said Lance.

"See you later," said Sirius.

Lily turned to wave at the doors to the Tech Screptam, and was gone.

"Right," said Lance, suddenly brisk. "I've got these sorted for you. It's all fiction. Romance."

"A Veela's Passion?" said Sirius, flicking through one. Bobbie looked over his shoulder.

"Oy," Lance said sternly "I don't want my sister looking at books like that. You neither, Black."

"Why not?" asked Bobbie crossly.

"You're too young."

"I'm only a year younger than you!" Bobbie said indignantly.

"We hear you," said Sirius innocently, placing the book back on the pile. Lance gave him a narrow look.

"Watch it, you. I haven't forgotten Bertram Aubrey, you know."

"Neither have I." Sirius flashed Lance a wicked grin. "Don't worry, Macmillan. I won't corrupt your sister."

"You'd better not," said Lance darkly.

As soon as Bobbie and Sirius had turned the corner Sirius whipped the book out again.

"Right, now, let's see if we can find the naughty bits..."

"I heard that!" yelled Lance.