The Story of Tracy Beaker PV H. Ming

Private thread: @Hui Ming
Sunday, October 3rd

The library wasn't the most intuitive of places to navigate. Nor was it a place Martyna found herself often.

When she was little, Tina's primary school would take trips to the local library so they could learn how to loan out books. The shelves were only a few feet tall in the children's section, with nice, manageable stories jutting messily out of their quarters, alphabetical ordering system long forgotten. The worn but ever-enticing covers of various Jaqueline Wilson's novels often attracted her attention, and she would pluck one from its home before settling into a cushioned corner with her friends, only to discover with great disappointment that the words were too small for her liking, with far few pictures to break up the dry paragraphs. She was intrigued by Tracy Beaker, but not enough to subject herself to hours of the girl's life.

The Hogwarts library wasn't like the one at home: it was, like most things at Hogwarts, very obnoxious. The colours of the room rarely deviated from brown to black, and the hardback bindings of the thousands of books that were tucked neatly into the tens of shelves inside it seemed to follow just this, making it difficult to tell one text from another. A lot of them were academic, and none, Tina suspected, would imbue her with the familiarity of muggle life.

That is, Tracy Beaker was no where to be found.

Actually, Tina thought, glancing up at the impossibly high shelves - which she reckoned could fall on top of her at the vaguest disturbance - she might well have been. There was no ladder that could be used to reach the topmost shelving units, locking away many of the books if you didn't have access to a summoning spell, or the willingness to seek out an older student or the librarian to come check for you. At least, that was what she assumed. She'd never really had a reason to use it before.

Tina craned her neck up and huffed. "Accio Tracy Beaker," she said, not even lifting her wand in an attempt to replicate the spell. It was laughable, really. She'd been so keen to become a witch after her sister received her letter, but now she wanted nothing more than normality. Her muggle friends were moving on with their lives, probably learning about long division and Lord of the Flies and, most importantly, forgetting about her. Instead of being with them, Martyna was stuck here, in this posh, miserable library, with miserable witches and miserable wizards that thought themselves better than everyone else.

Her introduction to the magical world had set her up to be cautious. At least Starlee had some understanding of what it was like to be a muggle (her mum was one) but Elizabeth Isaacs was a sobering reminder that Tina was seen as lesser than some witches, and that her parents and little brother were marked even lower in these meaningless rankings. The exclusive balls hosted by various wealthy wizarding families, that would be discussed in excited whispers by those deemed 'pure' enough to receive an elusive invite, and the bizarre, outdated traditions that pervaded throughout Hogwarts - a place supposedly for all types of magical people - told Martyna everything she needed to know. It was almost enough to make the fun of actually performing magic not worth it.

She kept these thoughts to herself, mostly. The last thing Tina wanted was more drama (drama that centred her, that is). Sometimes, she let it slip that the house system bothered her, or that the uniforms were impractical, or that Quidditch was actually ridiculously dangerous, but this was usually met with an awkward response that demanded conversational subject change. She complied.

Today, however, this tradition was denying her access to classic muggle literature!

Did she like to read? Well, not particularly, no. Did she want to prove that muggles were capable of writing that was just as interesting and valuable as that of magical people? Most certainly.

"Do they have any muggle books in here?" she asked in an exasperated whisper, to anyone that happened to be around. She had yet to take her gaze off of where she'd fixed it a minute ago - the top shelves - and her neck was beginning to hurt.