What's the Dewey Decimal System? (Assistants Thread) | Open

5th September 1920

Information Desk

The position of Head Assistant was not one Ellen took lightly. The title appealed to her sense of order, sure, but it was more than that. It was a set of duties that required active attention, sound judgment, and a personal responsibility of power.

Of course, she could not hand out detentions or withdraw points as, say, a Prefect would, but Professor Laurence had entrusted her with a different kind of authority. It meant she was responsible for more than just books; she was responsible for the system itself. She had to delegate tasks, ensure the work was done to a proper standard, and handle any disruptions the other assistants could not. Approving or denying requests for the Restricted Section, settling disputes between students, and taking charge of the library in a lesser entirely when Professor Laurence was called away. It was her duty to maintain order, not just on the shelves, but among the people using them. In a school where the very foundations seemed to be faltering, the library represented a small, manageable corner of the world that could, with diligent effort, be restored to its proper state. It was a duty, and one she intended to perform with the seriousness it deserved.

Hence, why, at this moment, she was behind the information desk. Three trolleys, laden with books flagged by the other assistants, were arranged before her like patients in a hospital ward. In a sense, they were. She ignored the sheer volume of the task for now, focusing instead on the first case.

She picked up a heavy leather-bound volume from the top of the nearest trolley. A History of Magical Sieges. A faint, dark ring stained the cover. She delicately skimmed the pad of her finger along its edge. It was a deep stain, soaked into the grain of the old leather. A simple cleaning charm would be too crude, likely stripping the cover of its colour and oils, causing more damage than it fixed. This required a delicate, specialized touch, restorative magic she had yet to learn. It was a job for an expert.

At the corner of the large oak desk, her personal tools were already arranged. A heavy glass inkwell sat unstopped, its black ink gleaming. Beside it rested a slim, dark green leather-bound ledger - her own creation, not something she had discussed with McCormick or Laurence. She had simply seen the need for proper documentation and acted upon it, though she made a mental note to inform them of the ledger later.

She drew the ledger closer, opening it to the first clean page. The top was headed in her own precise script:

Hogwarts Libray

Head Assistant's Log

1920-1921 term

HA: C. McCormick, E. Graymere, R. Laurence

A: R. Al-Sayeed, C. Donahue, R. Elliot, B. Laurence, A. Ravenstone, E. Ravenstone

Month of September

Beneath the heading, she had already ruled faint lines in pencil, creating columns for every necessary detail: Date, Title, Reported By, Issue, and Action Taken.

She reached for her quill, dipping the fine nib into the ink with one quick dart. Her handwriting was small and clear as she began to fill the first row:

`Sept. 5` | `A History of Magical Sieges` | `E. Ravenstone` | `Liquid stain on cover.` | `Set aside for Prof. Laurence.`

Having made her record, she placed the book carefully on the far left corner of the desk, designating it as the start of a pile for Professor Laurence's direct attention.

The next book was a more common problem. A standard copy of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration had a long, jagged tear down the middle of its chapter on turning beetles to buttons. This, at least, was within her purview. She laid the book flat, carefully aligning the two torn edges. Murmuring a quiet "Reparo," she traced the line of the tear with the tip of her wand. The paper fused back together, leaving only a faint, silvery line where the damage had been. Satisfied, she made another entry in her ledger, 'Torn page, repaired', and placed the textbook on a separate, growing pile destined for the re-shelving trolley.

One book for the Professor, one repaired and ready. She glanced at the remaining towers of books. This was the work: not just fixing what was broken, but correctly identifying what could be fixed, what couldn't, and who was best suited for the task. It was slow, methodical, and absolutely necessary.

As might have come as no surprise to anyone, Ruth Anaya was starving. Rae had spent her afternoon out on the pitch, stubbornly practising her swing despite the egregious cancellation of the sport for the year. The girl wanted to believe that, with enough time, the professors would manage to fix whatever had spooked the adults out of letting them hit bludgers at each other. When that day came, it would hardly do to have flabby arms and poor reflexes. No, her swings would need to be as powerful as ever; otherwise, she'd fall to the mercy of her boyfriend, who swore himself 'the best beater at Hogwarts'

Benji Laurence was ridiculous and could sometimes be far too prone to his own delusions. Of course, taking a break while he still worked out would see that statement becoming true. Rae couldn't have that.

She would never survive his ego.

While working out had been crucial, it had required a lot of her energy and drained the last of the massive lunch she'd stuffed herself with earlier that afternoon. Rae's stomach twisted from the unrelenting hunger pangs. Her limbs wobbled, spent from the way she'd driven herself in the last two hours. She hadn't intended to be out on the pitch that long, but knew she would've been longer had she not remembered she was on library duty.

"Alright, alright!"

Rae could be heard long before she could be seen. Already a bit late, she'd made the executive decision to make a quick stop in the kitchen. Ellen liked to run a tight (read: overly organised) ship and all the power to her. The Slytherin didn't think her library supervisor would appreciate her dropping dead before the end of her shift, as she was so convinced she would. Without the muffin now hanging from her mouth while she swatted at the nuisance bauble, Rae would not survive to see dinner.

"Cut it out! It's just one more bite!"

The possessed incarnate of Satan wouldn't let up, pecking and nipping mercilessly at the girl from all directions until she was completely turned around, swatting like her life depended on it.

That swatting saw her running backwards right into the front desk. The force of the impact sent...nearly all the books toppling to the ground. That only made it angrier, as if she were wrecking the library on purpose.

"Oi! Ellen! Do something!" Rae called, her mouth full of muffin and her defensive arm full of small marks. "Get this thing off me!"

That was her job, probably.

The library had rules for a reason. And while she was sure that principle applied to any library, the one at Hogwarts was uniquely sensitive to infractions. For very necessary reasons, at that. One did not house a collection of magically potent, often ancient, texts in the same building as hundreds of young witches and wizards, many still struggling with the most basic tenets of magical control, without strict protocols. The simplest things could go wrong. A dropped wand backfiring, a nervous sneeze during a levitation charm, food attracting the wrong sort of magical pest. The rules existed to prevent such complications. And, therefore, they were not suggestions.

Which was why the baubles existed.

They were curious little things. Sensitive little things.

Most of the time, their interventions were subtle. As subtle as gentle reminders of proper library conduct could be. But they were literal-minded creations, and certain transgressions were met with a response that was anything but.

And, absolutely, Ellen heard her before she saw her. Not so much as the familiarity of the Slytherin's voice, than the volume.

With having just made her entry, her first instinct upon hearing the approaching chaos was to secure her workspace. She carefully placed the glass stopper back into the mouth of her inkwell, preventing any possibility of a spill. With the potential for mess contained, she finally looked up.

Stumbling, swatting, making an absolute spectacle was.. Ruth, as a small bauble buzzed around her in tight, aggressive circles-

There was the bauble. There was Ruth. There was the..

Muffin.

Before even a further thought could form about the offending item hanging from the girl's mouth, she somehow managed to run backwards into the desk, and Ellen yelped as the impact sent everything into chaos. Books tumbled from their carefully arranged piles, an avalanche of bindings and pages that rained on the floor with a series of dull, final thumps. Her inkwell rocked dangerously, the black liquid sloshing perilously close to the rim. The ledger slid sideways, its pages fluttering, and her quill skittered toward the edge of the desk, vanishing.

In a single, clumsy moment, her carefully constructed order had been utterly demolished, replaced by a sprawl of splayed pages and upturned spines on the floor.

"Ruth Elliot!" But there was no time for a proper scolding, not with the bauble still attacking. She withdrew her wand from where it rested beside her ledger, tracked the aggressive sphere's erratic flight, and aimed. "Arresto Momentum!"

The effect was immediate. The bauble, which had been darting around Ruth in furious, rapid circles, suddenly slowed to a gentle drift. Its aggressive buzzing faded to a low, almost sleepy hum as it floated lazily through the air, still moving toward Ruth but now with all the menace of a soap bubble. The frantic energy that had driven its attack was gone, leaving it to drift harmlessly around her.

Ellen lowered her wand and promptly turned out from behind the desk, stepping over a prone book, and then nudging past one of the trolleys. "Well, I'd say!" She stopped in front of Ruth, her eyes flicking from the girl's face to the half-eaten muffin, and then to the now-slowed bauble.

"Honestly, Ruth. You, of all people. You are a Library Assistant, a Prefect. You know perfectly well why we have the protocol against food. This," she gestured to the scattered books, the disrupted information desk, and the hovering sphere that appeared to still think it was doing the utmost damage, "is the exact and predictable outcome. It agitates them."

Her lecture delivered, her expression softened just a degree. "Now, let me see your arm," she said, a sort of clinical something. "Did the nips break the skin?" She reached out, not to comfort, but to inspect the marks. "And for Merlin's sake, get rid of that muffin."

In the middle of this rabid assault, the last thing Rae expected was a lecture.

Well...maybe she did expect a small one. This was Ellen they were talking about, after all. The girl had an unshakeable sense of duty that sometimes transcended what the Slytherin might consider rationality. Take now, on the doors of death, with this bauble trying to nip her to an earlier grave. There came the girl's stern voice--full naming her no less.

Yikes.

Were she not preoccupied with the demon spawn Julia had unleashed on the library goers, she may have insisted her friend lighten up. It was neither the first nor would it be the last time that Ruth Anaya Elliot was accosted for her behaviour. They could get hung up about it, treat it like the end of the world event it probably was or they could help her out before she had more cuts than skin.

She'd choose the latter and hoped the girl would, too.

Thankfully, Ellen could see reason. With a flick of her wand, she slowed the bauble to a manageable speed, allowing Rae to easily side-step it each time it tried to take another nip at her. Phew. This was fine. This was the sort of under control scenario that allowed her to enjoy her muffin in peac--

"Honestly, Ruth. You, of all people. You are a Library Assistant, a Prefect. You know perfectly well why we have the protocol against food."

Or not.

She was right. Rae did know, probably better than most, the protocol surrounding food in the library. Merlin knew the girl had gained enough scratches and marks in her time. She helped herself to another bite, chewing slowly while she allowed Ellen to continue. It was only fair. Her friend had saved her in her hour of need. The least she could do was humour her with her attention while she satisfied that deep-seated, poorly understood need to remain the voice of responsibility and decorum. This was the foundation for a solid friendship, and Rae accepted the Hufflepuff for who she was.

Chomp.

"Want some?" Rae asked, when the girl finally got to the end. "There're little chocolate chips inside." She pinched off a piece from the side she hadn't started on yet and held it out to the girl while ducking another slow attempt from the still determined bauble. She offered her hand when it was requested, revealing a small section of shallow cuts she'd gained in defense of her empty stomach.

"And for Merlin's sake, get rid of that muffin."

"I'm trying." As if to show this, Rae popped another piece of the muffin into her mouth. "It'd go a lot faster if you helped."

Speaking of help...for the first time since her crash arrival, Rae glanced down at the mess she'd made. No wonder poor Ellen had tried kicking up a fuss. Rae crouched where some of the books had fallen, doing her best with only one hand to scoop them up. The girl used the elbow of the hand holding the muffin to nudge the books into the grasp of her other hand. As an assistant, it was her job to help keep the library clean. That she'd created the mess in the first place was inconsequential.

All that mattered was that they sorted out the front desk before anyone stopped by wanting to return or check something out.

Ellen.. frowned. A sudden thing, but one that had little to do with Ruth, her airy demeanor, or the muffin, nor even the shallow cuts (though they were concerning). No, a just as sudden thought had surfaced in her mind; She was not quite sure how to handle this. It was an odd realization. Ellen had always prided herself on knowing the proper course of action, on understanding what was theoretically the correct response to any given situation. But this... this was not covered in any manual or regulation she had ever read. Ruth was not openly defiant, nor was she fully compliant. She was something in between, and Ellen found herself without a clear precedent.

She could, of course, escalate the matter to Professor Laurence. But that felt heavy-handed for what was, ultimately, a muffin and some scattered books. It would also suggest that she could not manage her own assistants, which was hardly the impression she wished to make in her first week as Head Assistant.

Alternatively, there was the option of attempting to remove the offending food physically, but that seemed both undignified and likely to create more chaos than it resolved.

Or.. she could continue to argue the point, but Ruth seemed perfectly content to eat her way through any lecture Ellen might deliver, rendering the exercise rather pointless.

No, this situation called for a more delicate touch. She couldn't simply be a friend and let the infraction slide, but neither could she be so authoritarian and constantly resort to simply enforcing the letter of the law; that was complacency, surely. She needed to find the narrow path between them, a response that was neither an embrace nor a reprimand. The only problem was, the solution felt like trying to grasp smoke; she knew it was there, but she couldn't quite find its shape. Goodness, how frustrating.

To a degree, her contemplation was a total block; Ellen simply couldn't find the impetus to respond to the muffin-line-and-sinker Ruth had offered, though the minor part was purely her choice to remain silent. A trifling pettiness, sure. Ruth would likely just blame it on her "Ellenness," or another like-term, but the girl, far from waiting, was now already crouched down, attempting to restore order using her... elbow, of all things, whilst still holding the muffin. A for effort. She released her hand, and despite herself, found the attempt to be almost admirable. Almost.

Sparing another glance at the slow-moving babble, she took a step back from Ruth to give her space. The muffin remained the point of offense, yet its power was already lessened against the current, more important task. This wasn't a minor jostle in the hall; this was the school library. "If you're earnest about that, you ought to get up properly, finish the muffin, and only then help me put all of this back." She paused, then quickly added, "In that order, preferably."

With another glance- not at the babble, but at Ruth's hand, where those shallow cuts remained- she tried not to look visibly bothered. That, however, was doomed from the beginning as the more she thought about it, the more disturbed she did look. "Really... it may be a prudent idea to have a kit of simple remedies stationed here at the desk. Locked, of course, and not for general access. No potions, just the basics for treating minor injuries; a salve of dittany, particularly. With the Head Nurse's and Professor Laurence's permissions, naturally. But if a more serious incident occurred.." She looked up now, another frown threatening to cross her face. It was shallow cuts today, which still were not treated, but it could be something even worse tomorrow.

"If you're earnest about that, you ought to get up properly."

She could do that. Rae rose to her feet, abandoning the books she'd been trying to collect and reorganise.

"Finish the muffin."

Already working on it.

"And only then help me put all of this back."

With a mouth full of delicious goodness, Rae blinked at the girl. It wasn't that she didn't understand the instructions. They were clear as day. The Slytherin just wasn't sure she understood the reasoning behind it from her own chaotic worldview. "You sure?" she asked after swallowing. "Won't it take up too much of your time waiting for me to get done the muffin? I mean...what if I told you...I had a second muffin that I'd also like to finish. You'd probably be needing my help a lot sooner, yeah?"

Did she have that extra muffin? Rae didn't want to say that she didn't but she also wasn't saying what that bulge by her pocket was.

Truly, it could've been anything.

"You don't have to worry, I'm a great multi-tasker and I won't get chocolate on any of the books." Which, if she gave it enough thought, was probably another worry that the girl harboured. Hogwarts didn't have a pest problem, not with how many of the students' cats had been allowed free-rein, but Rae had a feeling that Ellen was the sort to enjoy smudged book covers about as well as Julia did. It was something she'd rather not have counted against her the next time she plopped down on the woman's couch, rattling on about all her woes.

Not wanting to cause her friend anymore undue grief, Rae finally stuffed the last of the treat into her mouth. Like before, she chewed her way through the Hufflepuff's fussing but this time, it was about medical preparedness.

She really did try to think of everything, didn't she?

Rae wiped her hands into her robes before stooping to reclaim the books that had fallen. "I'm sure Healer Blustwick wouldn't mind sparing us some supplies but honestly..." Dark eyes trailed over to the bauble that lurked not far off, waiting to see if she would pull out that second muffin. "If Miss Laurence was concerned about injuries, I don't think she'd have set her baubles on the student body the way she has. Those bloody things have caused more injuries than the clumsiest of library goers combined."

Maybe the marks were meant to be a lesson. It seemed like the sort of thing the woman would do.

Rae slammed the books back onto the table. "There!"

Merlin, she was so helpful.

Muffins.

Ellen may be properly sick of them after this. No, she was not one to consume them regularly. In fact, one might even go as far as to say she'd never had one. It was the sandwiches all over again. Another common, informal food meant to be eaten by hand, a symbol of convenience over propriety.

And Ruth, apparently, had a second one.

Apparently.

It was a word that needed emphasis, for with Ruth, one never quite knew the stakes. She could be, at a moment's notice, as inscrutable as the Sphinx of Greek mythology and its riddle. Granted, Ruth Elliot was just fourteen years old, but the image persisted. Or, perhaps, it was too sophisticated a comparison. Likely.

Still, the question—"You sure?"—and the subsequent.. whatever one might call it, was so utterly contrary to the very reasonable, and very logical path she had laid out that she really just stared at Ruth for a few moments. It was not that the questioning of the very structure of the solution annoyed her, per se, but, instead, had her internally reevaluating what was happening here. She had been attempting to exercise a new kind of leadership—firm, but fair. A carefully considered directive in response to the first test to said leadership, meant to restore order. But perhaps Ruth was not interested in being... managed.

It was clear they were not on the same plane of understanding. Her search for a 'narrow path' of leadership had, by all accounts, just delivered her straight into.. this. Ruth, for her part, treated the order like a casual proposal, something to be negotiated for a better outcome, as if their task was simply deciding where to put the chairs. Perhaps Ruth was simply going to be Ruth, regardless of any carefully constructed approach.

or, perhaps..

The problem wasn't just that she was being obtuse; it was that Ellen's own authority had been completely, utterly ineffective. And that, more than anything, was what gave her pause.

"The point," she begun, a little sharper than intended, "is not to see how quickly we can appear to be finished. The point is.." Her voice trailed off, weakening.

She watched, as Ruth finally stuffed the last of the muffin into her mouth. The girl's dismissal of the medical kit idea was... disappointing. Something hot and irritated went through her body. What a fundamental misunderstanding of the issue. The baubles were not the problem; they were the response to the problem. To blame the bauble was to blame the alarm for the fire. The baubles were there for a reason. If they were permitted by Professor Laurence, they were permitted by the school-

Ellen flinched, a sharp, involuntary movement as the heavy books hit the desk with a thud.

"Ruth!" Her voice was tight with a frustration she could no longer contain. She gestured vaguely at the mess, at the hovering bauble, at Ruth herself. "Does this mean anything to you? Being a Prefect? Being an assistant here? Or is it all just... something to do?"

She'd done good.

Her thin arms belied the strength she had hidden in them. Rae had managed to collect all the books from the ground, hoisting them back on the desk. Merlin, that on its own demanded a reward, but, cheeky as she'd been, the girl didn't actually have a second muffin and wouldn't be able to take a second break. Any reward she wanted to give herself for achieving the absolute bare minimum in her library duties would have to wait until her shift ended and she was once again free to roam the corridors as she liked.

What was next? Did Ellen need her to return some of them? They'd probably been organised before that blasted bauble had her running into them. It had been an unfortunate series of events--a...shaky start to her shift, if you will--but it was nothing the Hufflepuff couldn't handle, capable girl that she was.

If she wanted, Rae would even sit patiently in the chair and wait for her to sort them again. Or maybe she'd go check the study tables for anything left behi--

"Ruth!"

For the first time since the mechanism that made Ellen run began to coil tight, the girl paused to take in her friend. Tense muscles, stern features, and the sort of lecture she didn't listen to, even when professors gave them to her. Rae's eyes swept over her languidly, trying to figure out how she'd managed to get herself so worked up in such a short span of time. They'd been fine a moment ago, hadn't they? Friends sorting library books and trying to avoid the ire of the bauble. Now Ellen seemed ready to unleash some poorly tempered wrath--by the well-polished girl's standards anyway--and for the first few minutes, all Rae could do was blink.

"Does this mean anything to you? Being a Prefect? Being an assistant here? Or is it all just... something to do?"

"Something to do." Rae's answer was decisive and without shame as her arms came up to cross at her chest. "Something to make the days at the castle pass by a little quicker, like nearly all the other clubs I'm involved in." She leaned against the front desk, sizing up the girl who was trying to decide for her how she was meant to view the burdens placed on her.

"Another way to spend time with my friends and keep myself out of trouble for a few hours. Nothing in life is ever so serious." Not for the girl who'd learned to live in the moment. Rae was prone to her own whims in defiance of the hand life had dealt her. Library assistant? Prefect? This Hogwarts prison she'd had to be forced back to for years, kicking and screaming each time before she became aware she was growing too old to keep making such scenes?

Blips in her map, hardly worth noting.

"Why does it mean so much to you? Why are you ready to melt down over books?" No one should be so high-strung. It wasn't good for anyone.