CHAPTER THREE: in which Professor Lupin visits the Muggle Library

The next morning, I received a visit from Pomona Sprout, who was attended by several potted plants that were apparently floating in midair. "I've brought you a few things to help ward off the Dementors," she said. "I meant to bring you something last year, as a welcome gift, but then things got a bit out of hand, what with the mandrakes and all."

"That's so kind of you," I said.

"Right, then," she said cheerily. "We've got lavender, rose, jasmine, hyacinth, lily of the valley, and a little frankincense seedling." As she said the names, the pots bounced forward, looking like Merlin's floating belongings in The Sword and the Stone.

"Where would you like them?" Pomona asked.

"Over by the window, I guess," I said.

The pots bobbed obediently forward and arranged themselves around the desk. Jareth, my barn owl, hooted irritably as the plants plunked to the floor.

"Isn't frankincense a tree?" I asked.

"Well, originally it was, but I've developed a bush variety," she said proudly. "I've been planting the trees all around the grounds, though. Dementors don't like them at all."

"Why is that?" I asked.

I was expecting some kind of whimsical answer, but instead she said, "frankincense is a psychoactive antidepressant."

"Oh," I said.

"It's also holy," she added.

"Ah."

You could tell, just from looking at them, that these were magical varieties. For one thing, the jasmine flowers were iridescent. The roses glittered. The frankincense emitted a soft golden glow. The combined fragrance was beautiful, but potent, kind of like if you happen to light all of your scented candles at once, or like on Easter when the priests get a little too carried away with the incense. The flowers wanted to make sure you knew they were there. I didn't realize that I'd been afraid until I inhaled the fragrance and felt myself relax.

"Thank you, Pomona," I said, feeling suddenly a little teary.

Her face crinkled into a smile. "Anytime."

She turned to go, and then said "Oh, that reminds me. There's a small greenhouse that isn't being used, and I was wondering if you'd like to use it to grow plants the Muggle way. I've always been curious about how they manage. It might be helpful for the students."

"Ooh, yes," I said. "I'm not the best gardener, but we did manage peppers and green beans and stuff back home. Not sure how they'd do in this climate."

"Oh we can magic the climate inside the greenhouse," she said.

"Isn't that cheating?"

She shrugged. "Not if you want to get anything to grow."

"Let's do it. Maybe we could plan a double lesson, or something?"

"I'd like that," she said, handing me a roll of parchment. "Here's some tips on caring for the plants. The best thing, though, is to talk or sing to them. They like that."

"Okay. Oh—they aren't poisonous for owls, are they?"

"Not these kind," she said. "And it really does help if you wear them in your hair."

So, I wrapped a twist of jasmine around my bun, gave Jareth a snack, and went on my way with her down the corridor, talking over various varieties of plants.

All things considered, class the next day was surprisingly normal. I was actually doing a unit on "magical beings in muggle literature," which is why Dracula had been so much on my mind. So far, it had been a big hit with the students. They loved pointing out the ways that book magic or magical beings were different from the real world, and of course the books are just fun anyway. I'd gotten the idea last year when I'd decided to teach Twilight on a whim (i.e. it was very late and I was behind on grading and sleep deprived), and it turned out to be surprisingly effective at helping the students learn about Muggle culture. Dracula was good for teaching about the industrial revolution—it's chock full of what at the time was cutting-edge technology. I'd done some late-night digging on the controversy over the book in the wizarding world and it led to a lively discussion.

During the later sessions of my class, the students were already buzzing about Lupin and how exciting his classes were. "We've learned more today than we have in the past two years!" said Hermione.

I took my lunch break in my office, which was also the Muggle library. It's not exactly a break, as there's usually a few students in there, but it's much more relaxed. Unlike most libraries, the muggle library is not a quiet place—there's usually some music going, and noises from the computer. I have DJ privileges, and students can earn points in class to pick out songs to play, either by talking in class or competing against each other in group projects, or turning in work on time. At the moment, "Year 3000" was playing over the sound system, Kevin Entwhistle was playing Oregon Trail on the computer (he was supposed to be learning how to type), Luna Lovegood was reading a book on the Bermuda triangle in the window seat, and Cornelia Flibbertigibbet was showing me how to use the Word Wide Wizarding Web.

"I didn't think the wizards had made it that far, honestly," I said. "Don't they avoid magicking technology?"

"Yeah, because it tends to become sentient," said Cornelia. "It's like the ordinary internet, except that muggles can't access it. You can't do magic on it, but you can talk about it—there's all the wizarding world news, and celebrity gossip, and information about everything. And games. You can play digiquidditch and exploding snap. There's even an instant messaging system, although it hasn't really caught on yet. None of the grownups use it."

The WWWW can best be described as "if AOL was designed by medieval monks." It's gorgeous. And slow AF. To access it, I had to create what was an unholy combination of a MySpace and a Tumblr profile (again, if designed by medieval monks who were also somehow horny teenagers) for a website called Alohomora.

Cornelia showed me how to download wizarding music. "You'd probably like Celestina Warbeck," she said. I could tell by the way that she said it that Celestina Warbeck was for old people. I did like her music, as it turned out. Cornelia preferred the Weird Sisters. The weirdest thing about the Weird Sisters is that all of them are men. But they do have some bangers. I appreciated their very emo aesthetic. In return, I introduced Cornelia to Panic! At the Disco and My Chemical Romance.

"So what am I supposed to post?" I asked.

Cornelia assessed my page with a critical eye. "You should start a blog," she said. "You could write about what it's like being a muggle in the Wizarding World."

I laughed. "I could call it Unmagical Me."

"You should!" she said. "There's loads of people who can't do magic in the wizarding world. Like Squibs. And people whose family members are wizards but they aren't."

"All right," I said. "I'll give it a shot."

So that's how I found myself listening to Celestina Warbeck's "A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love," while writing about dementors. I was so engrossed in writing that I didn't notice that Remus Lupin had come in until he said, "Could I trouble you for a cup of tea?"

I nearly jumped out of my skin. There he was, on the other side of my desk, his hands clasped awkwardly over his dark brown cardigan, looking distressingly attractive. "Oh! Hi. Um, sure." I said in a very high-pitched voice.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to startle you."

I brushed an escaped strand of hair behind my ear, and then opened up the drawer to get a spare teacup. "Guess I'm a little jumpy since yesterday." All the students seemed to have vanished.

"A perfectly reasonable thing to be," he said.

"What kind of—what kind of tea do you want?" I stammered, pulling an assortment of boxes and jars out of my desk. "I've got chamomile, earl grey, and lemon and ginger. Oh, and gingerbread tea."

"Gingerbread?" he said.

"It's amazing," I said. "I got it at the Twining's store in London over break."

"Ordinarily I'd say lemon and ginger, but I'll try it," he said.

I put two bags in the teapot and turned on the electric kettle. "We can't have any magic in the room because it'll play hell with the computer," I said.

"So, this is the muggle library," he said, surveying the room with interest.

"Yeah," I said.

"It's quite nice," he said.

"Thanks," I said. Inside my heart was singing. On purpose! He came to see me on purpose!

There was a long, awkward pause. "Do you want to—do you want to sit down?" I asked.

"Oh! Yes," he said.

I had a sudden vision of him sitting flirtatiously on the desk, his long legs almost touching the floor. It took me a minute to realize he had just stayed standing where he was.

I started to get up. "Oh, sorry. I'll get the computer chair."

"Allow me," he said, darting over with alacrity. The chair rattled like a rusty shopping cart as he rolled it across the cobblestone floor and onto the rug.

He sat down awkwardly. "It's quite nice here," he said.

"You said that already," I said.

"Did I?" he said, looking a little dazed.

"Yes."

"Sorry," he said, with a shy smile that pretty much ruined me. "I do mean it, though," he said, looking at me with his warm brown eyes.

I smoothed down my pink skirt embroidered with multicolored stars. "The students are already talking about you."

He stiffened. "Already? What—are they saying?"

"All good things," I said quickly. He looked really stressed. "I've never seen them so excited. Hermione says they've learned more in one day than they have in the past two years."

He slumped back in relief. "Oh. That's good. Er. I mean, it's unfortunate that they haven't had better—"

I held up a hand to stop him. "Don't sell yourself short."

He nodded.

The teakettle began to bubble with increasing vehemence.

"I will confess, I'm a little jealous," I said, looking down at the rug, which can only be described as a very English rug. "I teach the most boring subject at the school."

He shook his head, smiling. "I'm pretty sure that honor goes to Professor Binns," he said in a low, conspiratorial voice, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

I laughed. "It's tragic, really. It's magic. It's history. It's the history of magic! It should be the most interesting thing in the world."

The teakettle began to screech. I jumped up to snatch it off the burner, and nearly tripped over Lupin's knee. Like I said, his legs were very long. For a moment, I was on the verge of either falling into his lap, or burning my hand on the kettle, but I caught myself.

"Sorry!" he said, scrambling to get himself out of the way as I steadied myself on the desk. "Sorry. Are you all right?"

"Yeah," I said, pouring the tea and praying I didn't spill it too much. "Do you want sugar or honey?"

"Honey," he said, settling back in, his cheeks flushed.

"How much?" I asked.

"A lot. If you don't mind, that is," he said. "It always feels rude to ask."

"I like it that way, too," I said. I poured it in and handed him a teaspoon, then absentmindedly scooped up a bit of honey that was dripping from the edge of the jar and licked it off my finger. Which wouldn't have been so bad, except that I happened to make eye contact with him while doing it.

After a mortifying and unreadable moment, I quickly looked away. When I looked back, he was politely stirring his tea as if nothing had happened.

"I don't get a lot of visitors," I stammered. "Coming to drink tea, I mean. There's usually lots of students here. McGonagall and Poppy sometimes invite me over for tea in their offices. They just don't usually come here." I was babbling. "Not that I mind. I don't mind. It's nice."

"Not sure that's the word I'd use for guests who nearly send you into the teakettle," he said, laughing.

I pulled a sleeve of wizard biscuits out of the desk drawer, grabbed a handful, and passed the rest to him.

"How did this place come about?" he asked.

"Well, Madam Pince didn't want any Muggle books in her library," I said, with a rueful shrug. "So, I started my own library. With a lot of help from Professor McGonagall. And some very overworked owls."

"Really," he said, sounding surprised. "Pince was always stiff, but I never imagined she'd be so anti-muggle."

"McGonagall said people have gotten worse in the last few years," I said, with a shrug.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It can't be easy for you."

The warmth in his voice made me melt. It wasn't easy. But somehow, just hearing him say that made it easier.

"Well." I said, with a rueful smile, "What fun would that be?" I took a sip of tea. "Pince keeps trying to get me banned from the Hogwarts library, but McGonagall won't let her. And whenever I get a new shipment in, I slip a couple Muggle books in among the stacks," I said with a grin. "You know. Just to show there's no hard feelings."

He laughed.

An idea suddenly came to me. "Come to think of it," I said, "I just got a new shipment in. Do you wanna help me…expand the Hogwarts collection?"

He grinned back at me, and suddenly I could see that the troublemaking kid he had been was still very much alive in him. "I'd like that very much."