Books, books everywhere. Just the smell of them made think of the vast content of knowledge that was contained within. The potential of the writings of so many great minds. Although of course there seemed to be place for the work of lesser minds in this great library, he as sure he had seen a copy of 'Magical Me' near the main desk. He walked along the shelves checking off the numbers in his mind, 000-100 Magical Philosophy all the way to 999 Muggle Scientific Theory. Long ago some Bibliophile has divided all the branches of Wizarding Knowledge into neat categories each leading logically to the next. Right now this pupil of the Natural Philosophies was headed towards section 666. Number of the Beast he thought to himself and wondered again why that ancient Taxonomist had designated the works he was searching for so. Was there some ancient grudge or a sly sense of humour at work? At this moment however such thoughts were pushed out of this student's mind when he reached the shrine to his discipline that was the shelf of Occlumency texts. This was a flexible system not only where there dry text books on the subject but histories and tales recounting heroes and heroines who had used this skill to great advantage, but not only this but how to survive the mental minefields of others, as many Occlumens developed their skills in order to shut out the clamour of other people's emotions. The student looked at his library card, it was furry with use and had the titles of many of the books he was now surrounded by etched on it in his cramped spidery hand and scratched by the harsh red biro of the librarian, a harsh instrument that despise its muggle origins suited the fierce protectiveness the Librarian had for her books. He ran his fingers along the spines of the books, he knew exactly where the tome he sought lay but he considered it a suitable to the books that were his companions in his walled in world. His pallid fingers caressed the vellum spine of his favourite book. It was akin to the caress one might give to an old friend on meeting after many years, although it has not been long that they had been parted. He heard familiar laughter coming from a table near by. He felt a jolt of fear, the sounds bringing to mind many petty humiliations so he clutched the book to his chest, not perhaps realising how symbolic this action of protecting his body with a book about protecting the mind was. He picked his way cautiously to the loans desk and as he left the library thinking he was now free from the giggling he relaxed. Alas too soon he felt a stab of derision hit and he ran to the cool dark safety of the Dungeons.