Work Text:
The librarian pauses, setting aside the missing items list he had been working on and skimming the shelf again. There, the wizard manual's familiar title stares back at him, waiting to be found by the right person.
The font, cover, and call number on each copy of the manual are always different when they appear. This helps them blend into the section of the library they’ll be found in, avoiding notice of staff and volunteers until the time is right for the manual to be found. Were he not a wizard himself, he would not have taken notice of the strategically worn cover, even as he hunts for misshelved items.
He sighs and stares accusingly at the manual. It’s not as concerning, here in teen non-fiction, as the times when a manual turns up among the beginning chapter books. Still, there’s a mixed joy and responsibility to the knowledge that soon, a child will be facing their ordeal. He’s not a senior, it won’t be on his shoulders to guide the young wizard through their first steps into this dangerous profession. But he’ll know they’re in danger, and won’t know what happens to them in the end.
There’s always that urge, to interfere, to try and protect these children, even though he knows better. It might deprive the universe of something it desperately needs, or more importantly, deprive the kids of something essential to their lives and development. Protecting them, in this case, would be selfish of him, and speed entropy. Still, knowing some of them will never return home from their ordeal, the temptation remains, to be quashed each time, his reoccurring internal battle with the lone power.
He leaves the manual undisturbed on the shelf. Removing it would do no good, in any case, it would only return to where it is destined find its wizard. Besides, libraries are far from the only place the manuals are found.
The title and barcode are not actually a part of the library’s catalog. It will appear to check out properly, for the conscientious prospective wizards who won’t simply sneak the book out. It has no RFID tag to set off the exit gates. The ILS software was programmed with the knowledge that the manual will never be returned, so it will vanish from the catalog once checked out without generating any notices or fees. The benefits of having practical wizards in so many fields, he supposes.
All will go as it is meant to, with or without his interference. The librarian has the missing lists to get on with with, and some cataloging work with the speech once he's home from work. He will try to distract himself, as he always does when this happens. Still, sometimes he wishes he didn’t recognize the manuals when they turn up on the shelves. That he wasn’t burdened with that knowledge of what he cannot change. The children must be allowed their adventures, adult "protection" would be doing them a disservice.