Tom Marvolo Riddle eagerly explored the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts Library. He had finally gotten permission from his Head of House and it opened up whole worlds of possibilities.
Despite having grown up in a Muggle orphanage to nameless parents, he was considered a powerhouse of Slytherin. Despite the Purebloods beliefs, even they had to acknowledge that he was the best of them.
However, he had also seen that there were plans in the works to move against him. Thus his current search: How to stay alive regardless of whatever anyone else might do.
He had, at one point, even considered asking for help from the adults, but with Dumbledore "expressing concern" most teachers were wary of him. Only Slughorn was truly supportive and that was because he made Slytherin quite a number of points, despite that wariness.
When the "Light" books yielded no results, he was quite willing to extensively search the "Dark" sources for a solution. And while he found and cataloged quite a few promising looking rituals and enchantments to make himself stronger, none seemed to be the solution and so he searched deeper. And finally, in a casual reference, he found what looked to be a promising path: A Horcrux.
Immediately, he decided that this was something that deserved more extensive research. Just as he closed the book he was perusing to return to the shelves, something happened.
Almost directly in front of him, a blue light appeared. The light coalesced into a human shape and the features on that shape formed. Once fully formed, the blue color disappeared and the figure before him appeared as a regular human male, although one dressed in a strange version of Muggle clothing.
Tom Riddle stared in awed shock as the figure casually glanced around, recognition in his face and then looked at him. He saw recognition there, and the very slightest hint of caution. "Hello, Tom Marvolo Riddle."
Putting on his most stoic look, Tom Riddle stood up and replied. "Hello. Who are you?"
The man smirked for a moment and said, "A traveler. A dimensional traveler to be specific. My most proper name is Marek Ilumian."
Tom Riddle quickly tried to translate that. Ilumian would have something to do with light. "Was this your name when you were born?"
The man paused and considered that. "In a very real sense: Yes." The man chuckled to himself as though considering a private joke. "Those who gave it to me gave it as a sign of respect." The man moved to a chair at the table he was using and asked, "Mind if we sit down?"
Tom motioned to the chair and sat himself, the visitor following.
"So, what are you doing anyway?" the man asked.
"Why are you so curious?"
The man shrugged. "Those that direct me usually place me in places where my experience or skills are helpful to preventing catastrophe in one world or another. Have you ever read the Bible?"
Tom's face took on a look of distaste. "I was forced to study it where I grew up. But mostly one priest or another exhorted those who lived there that it was the most important book in existence and any who didn't follow its teachings were going to be damned to Hell."
The man chuckled. "Yeah, that's a pretty common trope used by Christians around the world. Quite ironic that those many, many of those who claim to be following and teaching others about a figure which said, 'Love your fellow man' are pretty much bloody bastards to anyone who doesn't agree with their narrow world view."
Tom Riddle snorted. This was one thing that had always turned him off to the idea of religion: The average Christian priest or nun was almost as sadistic as orphans were to those others that they could put down. He really tried to maintain his composure, but it was quite amusing to find someone who so totally agreed so precisely with his own experience. "It doesn't help that they teach 'Suffer not a witch to live' and here we are: Witches and wizards."
The man nodded. "That's actually a mistranslation of the original Hebrew or Aramaic or whatever the original was written in. The problem was in the language of the original man who wrote that the same word could mean different things depending on use. The true translation reads 'Suffer not a poisoner to live' – poison is a pretty contemptible way to solve the problem of inconvenient people in your way."
Tom considered that. "Poison is not an uncommon solution from those that are weaker." He took on a slightly antagonistic look. "Actually, I'm surprised that no one has poisoned me."
The man looked curious. "Why is that?"
"The same reason I am searching the Restricted Section: I am the most powerful wizard of my generation. And the 'Pureblood Elite' that know of my background are upset about that because it makes them look bad. They plot to 'take care of the problem' behind my back."
The man waved his hand dismissively. "A bit of vigilance and all such efforts fail. But I imagine it's annoying. At least it always was for me."
Tom was curious. "You had people plotting against you?"
The man snorted. "All the time." He paused. "One particular wizard more than most. He and his followers pretty much made my life a struggle. Then the people opposed to that wizard made my life even more of a struggle when they expected me to rise up and defeat the wizard. I became famous in my home world. But when you're famous, then there are always sheeple which want to see you laid low for their amusement. Or those who were afraid of me because I was on the other side." The man shook his head. "Honestly? Fame – the adoring type and the fearful type – are more of a pain than they are worth."
Tom disagreed. "I would imagine fame isn't that bad. If you're in charge and you've gotten rid of your enemies than you can enjoy life."
The man looked at him for a long moment and then waved his hand and Tom felt a ward go up. The man then completely lost control and started laughing uproariously. At first he was annoyed, then irritated ... and then curious. The laughter should have alerted someone – but perhaps that was the reason for the ward.
With some irritation Tom asked, "What is so humorous?"
The man visibly worked to control himself and then finally answered, "People your age have no idea exactly how silly you can be. The idea that lording it over everyone is the epitome of 'fun' … you have no idea."
"Why?"
The man looked at him, still smirking. "Okay. So who's the big bastard in the Wizarding world these days? Grindelwald, right?"
Tom replied, "I don't know that he's a 'bastard' but he is a famous Dark wizard. He has many followers."
The man nodded. "Yes. And just as many or more enemies. Let me tell you a secret: Beating everyone around you and then lording it over everyone is fun … for a little while. And then it gets boring. Very … very … boring. And then, considering that in this situation you are in charge, you have to deal with human nature: Everyone expects the people in charge to fix everything. So then you have every Tom, Dick, and Harry coming to you for all of their thinking. Now, let's say you decide that such petty problems are beneath you. So you tell your most important minions, your 'inner circle' if you will to handle the damn problems themselves as you don't want to deal with it. Soon, they start making the decisions. But people who start thinking for themselves always then end up deciding they would be better leaders. It could take hours, minutes, days, years, or even decades – but eventually they decide this is true. Then you have to either make them so frightened they never do so or you kill them – there goes your free time because you are back to solving everything. If this lasts long enough, you'll never get a moments peace. Either because you have to take all of your time doing everyone's thinking or because you have to take all of your time worrying about the people who are doing all the thinking for you. It's exhausting.
"Being in charge usually ends up being rewarding for a short time. It's more fun if you like helping people. You get satisfaction from seeing your good decision making giving them a better life. But if you really don't care what other people feel – then you're back to personal satiation of whims. And people start resenting you. Making them more likely to take all of your time and energy to protect yourself. It's really just not worth it. Give me one person … just one … who was only out for themselves and succeeded in enjoying a long life without constant attempts to kill them? It's impossible – they don't exist."
Tom Riddle considered the man's argument. He couldn't imagine that life being so bad. He said so to the traveler.
The man smirked at him. "I'm tempted to show you an example." The man paused for a long moment. "As a matter of fact – stand up. We're taking a trip."
Tom was a bit nervous. "Won't I be missed here?"
The man waved that away dismissively. "I can bring you back just a moment after we leave."
The man walked over to him and put his hand around his arm. "We're going to be invisible, intangible, and unable to be sensed by the locals. I warn you now: Exert no power without my permission. In some of the places you will see, we will be witnessing Gods."
Tom had only a moment to be startled before the Hogwarts Library disappeared. They now were standing on a great plain. Before them was a multitude of people bowing before a figure which he guessed to be a God. "That is Torak – Kal Torak to his own people. Kal meaning King and God. Watch as they show their reverence."
Tom watched as a robed order took various members of the gathered crowd and forcibly moved them to a great alter which was placed before the beautiful looking being. He was a little startled when the captive was pushed down on the alter and the priest stabbed him. It was somewhat revolting to watch the heart taken and thrown into a brazier and be burned away. The two watched as hundreds were killed.
They listened as the God told them how pleased he was at their obeisance and how much he loved the smell of the offerings given over to him.
Tom Marvolo Riddle, at this point in his life, was not yet fully consumed by the darkness and killing lust that his alternates oftentimes succumbed to. And he was horrified to a degree at the complete casualness of the ritual murders.
The man who had come took him moved them to another location. "Now. This is a primitive world. The people are little more than savages. Here there are seven gods – all brothers. Well – and another God above them who is their father. But he tries to stay out of it. We're going to go and see another God – one who takes disciples and teaches them. We're going to watch when his brother Kal Torak comes to visit."
And so they watched as the Disciples of Aldur conveyed the beautiful Torak to their Master Aldur. The difference between the followers of Aldur and the Followers of Torak were obvious: The followers of Torak feared him, save for those who relished the murder in the name of their god, and the followers of Aldur loved him.
Through watching they observed the disappearance of Torak and the saddened Aldur. And they watched to complete fury of his disciples for the affront of having struck their Master.
As they traveled, Tom saw the gathering of gods and peoples, the total war, the maiming of Torak, the ordering of followers, the leaders of the various factions, the recovery of the orb, the battle of Vo Mimbre, the theft of the Orb, and finally the great titanic struggle where Torak was laid low.
Tom was still in awe as they traveled to an empty plain upon the world they were visiting. "What have you learned about the desire for ultimate power?" he was asked.
"He made many mistakes. He could have just left the Orb alone and nothing would have happened," Tom replied.
His guide snorted. "The problem is: Greed is pretty pervasive. Even gods succumb at times. And did you notice how the very universe started conspiring against him as he became a power-hungry maniac?"
Tom had to concede that was true. "But what about that old wizard? I noticed that he was there for everything. How many years did that wizard live?"
His guide chuckled. "He'd be insulted being called a wizard. They call themselves sorcerers. But from what I understand? I think he's about seven thousand years old. At least he was when I ran into him."
Tom was impressed. "That's who I want to be. I notice how everyone defers to him. They listen to him. And he's lived for such a long time – effectively immortal."
His guide laughed again. "Well, he had the assistance of a god. Different world, different rules. But what satisfaction do you think he gets from having lived so long?"
"I imagine it's greatly satisfying. He outlives most of his enemies. He gets to do what he wants. It's a great life!"
His guide smirked. "Let's go and visit and see what the man says." His guide grabbed his arm again and suddenly they were back to the same lush valley they had seen before. But it was changed: In addition to the towers, some of which were destroyed, there was also a cottage – a simple homestead. This was where his guide led him to.
"Before we go in, I'm going to cast a charm on you."
Tom was suspicious. "What is the purpose of this charm?"
"It will prevent you from hearing the name they call me here. There are good reasons why you should not – prevention of timeline contamination and whatnot. On my honor and by my magic, that is the only thing my charm will alter."
Tom felt the pulse of magic which accompanied the promise and so he accepted his guide's word. It felt strange to experience the charm.
The inhabitants must have felt the magic because suddenly there were a few which exited the house. Upon seeing his guide, their whole countenance changed from curious to happy."
"Marak!" Tom noticed the change that the charm achieved. There was a 'falseness' to the word that he noticed. "Welcome back! What are you doing back in our world?" And Tom noted no falseness with these words.
"I'm … educating the young man with me. This is Tom Marvolo Riddle, a teenager from a world I traveled to. I've brought him here to meet Belgareth and to learn a few things."
His guide turned to him. "This is Durnik, and this is Belgarion. I believe you recognize him."
With that, Tom was very nervous. He had witnessed this man strike down a god. "Hello. I am glad to meet you."
Belgarion turned to Marak. "Why is he so nervous?"
His guide grinned. "I took him to Cthol Mishrak during a certain incident you were involved in to witness the result of Torak's hubris. You're kind of intimidating once someone's seen that."
Tom saw Belgarion roll his eyes. "Great. Thanks. That's something that I've tried to forget. That was not a fun night."
Curious Tom asked, "Didn't you feel any satisfaction from putting down your family's ancient enemy?"
Tom watched as a look of great sorrow came over the man's face. "Despite my hatred for Torak due to what he had done and his attempts to corrupt my Aunt Pol, no one was glad to see him killed. He was as Evil as can be but there is a great horror with a god's death. It effects creation in a terrible way." He gave a small smile. "The healing only truly began when Eriond finally took up the guidance of Torak's Angaraks. That's been an interesting thing to watch."
Tom was confused but at the same time shocked. He would have thought killing a hated enemy would have been more satisfying.
"Anyway, let's get you two inside," Durnik said.
Tom was a bit overawed at the eminence of the people he met. Each of them were a sorcerer except the wife of Belgarion. And she was a queen – her husband being a king. And most of them were direct disciples of a god.
His guide explained why they were there.
Belgareth's eyes took on a gleam which disturbingly reminded him of Albus Dumbledore at his most manipulative. "How long can I guest the young man to teach him a few things?"
His guide replied blandly, "Oh – as long as you need. I've can reverse any aging so that he will look the same no matter how long it takes to learn. I have to return him in the same shape he was in when he left."
The old man and his utterly beautiful daughter looked each other in the eye and seemed to come to some sort of agreement. She turned to him and said, "This is fortunate. I am currently working to codify what I have learned of magic. Give us … oh, fifty years or so. We'll make certain he is well educated."
Tom goggled at that. Fifty years?
His guide considered that and then grinned. "Just make certain he remembers what is life currently is in his home world as he has to seamlessly return, hopefully more intelligent and a bit wiser."
Belgareth replied, "We will certainly try."
Thus began Tom Riddle's tutelage and "internship" among the Brotherhood of Sorcerers. He had felt some resentment but he quickly grew out of it – it only took eight years.
Belgareth took care to take him around to the various races and Kingdoms. With that, Tom experiences something he had not expected: Many a maiden tried to ensnare the young and powerful man who traveled with the Eternal Man.
Having been taught manners by Polgara (and he shuddered at how painful that process had been) he wasn't a complete arse to these females but he had no desire to be caught. When he complained to Belgareth, his current mentor did not help him. The amusement of the old man was quite irritating. Some of the others felt some sympathy but left it up to him to deal with.
His tendency to hoard trophies was also something he learned to leave behind. He also learned (painfully) how to protect himself without magic both with weapons and without.
In addition, he learned things from a group of people that were friends with those who taught him. He also watched as those people he met (outside of those that lived in the Vale of Aldur) grew old and died. He saw the devastation that was felt by those left behind. And so, after a very long and arduous time, Tom Marvolo Riddle began to get some semblance of an understanding about Love and its various permutations.
His soul being unmutilated, he did experience relationships with various women. And while he still have a hard time with love, he did learn about commitment and responsibility.
When the Nyissan Queen (a very large, very poisonous snake) had learned of his ability to speak the language of serpents, it took a bit of work to convince her he couldn't stay permanently. She therefore had arranged for many daughters of noble families to visit during his stay there and she pretty much demanded he impregnate as many as possible.
He had protested on the basis that forcing women would anger Polgara. Salmissra, despite respecting the beautiful woman also had a healthy wariness of her interference. It was she, after all, that had forced her into her current shape.
That proved to be an ineffective argument: These daughters of Issa were quite enthralled with the idea of having children with a man who could converse with snakes. He had impregnated several. And then Salmissra had demanded he leave – she wanted no 'foreign influences' on the children who would someday have important places in her society. And, being young at the time, he had accepted this. He learned to regret his lack of contact with them.
Halfway through his stay, he took up with an Alorn woman in her mid-twenties who had children already but whose husband had died. He learned to care for the children as though they were his own. When his adopted son married, he was honored when his first child was given the name Tom.
Tom also learned about loss: His wife became ill due to a disease that was untreatable in this world. Tom worked hard and his wife suffered much less for the skills he had but in the end she died.
He finally understood the reason why Belgareth had explained to him in detail what happened when he first lost his wife three thousand years earlier. Tom learned to live with the loss and to enjoy the remembrances he had.
This experience had changed Tom greatly. No longer had he any desire to rule his fellow wizards and witches. Nor did he have any desire for immortality.
Tom resolved to become a healer. In his final years in this world, he spent much time with Polgara learning the human body and how it worked. In addition, he learned many healing spells from the magic that Polgara had gotten from Marak so many years earlier.
And finally, fifty years after his arrival, Tom Riddle gathered his adopted children and their families with him when he returned to the Vale of Aldur to return to his home dimension.
The residents of the Vale of Aldur and their guests observed the appearance of the light which signaled their visitor's arrival. The figure walked over.
"Hello, all. Hello, Tom." He paused. "Who are these?"
Tom Riddle smiled and said, "These are my son and daughter and their children."
His former guide was taken aback. "You have children here?"
Tom sighed. "These are adopted. My wife's first husband died. I was the father they grew to love. We lost their mother five years ago."
The man nodded respectfully and solemnly. "I am sorry for your loss."
The family murmured their thanks. Tom said, "Though we were only married twenty years, there was much love between us. I feel no regret for having married and having raised children. They are good people."
The man nodded. "I lost my wife long ago. And although I live and have loved since, still I love her."
Tom replied in commiseration. "That love never truly leaves."
The man nodded approvingly. "I believe you have learned much, Tom. Are you ready to return?"
Tom nodded. "I have recently reviewed my life from the memories of that time using occlumency. You have to return me to my earlier form or there will be questions."
The man nodded. He took out a beautiful wand and cast his magic. Tom felt the years fall off of his body. And when it was done, Tom grimaced.
"What's wrong? Didn't I do it right?" the man asked.
"Yes, you did. Having lived to maturity I now recognize the hormones and urges my teenage form had for what they were. I kept sublimating them into a need to control others when I probably just needed to find a girlfriend."
The man took a long look at him and started laughing loudly. He was embarrassed when his son and daughter joined in. But he took it in good humour.
Tom bid his final farewells and Marak took him by the arm once more. And, after a moment, the Hogwarts Library as it was in his memory from all those years ago appeared. "It's going to be difficult reemerging myself. Luckily, although I have 'friends' I was not truly sociable. This will cover some mistakes I am certain to make."
The man nodded. "I have a few things for you. Have a seat."
Tom calmly sat down. Having been an adult, he had a sense of 'good' and 'bad' people. The man who had taken him to another world and returned him was a good person. Of that he was certain. Much, much better than he himself had been.
Tom reflected that a bad start didn't require a bad life. Belgareth had started as an lazy orphan who was a bit too casual about the concept of 'proper ownerwhip' – and he was now a powerful, respected figure.
And so Tom was perfectly willing to listen to his guide.
Marak reached into his pocket and pulled out an curious locket and placed it in front of him. Tom asked, "What is this?"
"Try to open it." Tom did so but it wouldn't open. "Try asking it to open." He tried that and it did nothing. He looked back at his guide. With a smirk the man said, "Try again – but use the other language you know."
Tom's eyes lit up. He spoke to the locket, "Open!" and was rewarded when the clasp clicked open.
Marak explained gently, "It belonged to your mother."
Tom was taken aback. "You know who she was."
And so Marak explained the Gaunts and the Riddles and a young woman's misplaced efforts to get out of a crushingly bad environment. He could not fault his mother, though he regretted he was a child of what was effectively rape. He also couldn't truly fault his father. He was someone without magic who was suddenly confronted with having been controlled. He most likely didn't even know he had a son.
"So I am not likely to be accepted by either family," he said. When his guide looked at him curiously he said, "The Gaunts are pureblood supremacists. My uncle who is alive is as likely to accept me as the wealthy Muggle who was taken in by what he considers a peasant tramp. Good relations these do not make." Tom was fairly philosophical (now) about the whole matter. His body might be that of a teenager but he was an adult in mind and spirit.
"Well, at least the infusion of completely fresh and untainted blood into the line of Slytherin has produced a child of strength and intelligence. You could go far," Marak said.
Tom replied with some humor, "I just have to overcome my complete lack of resources." He grimaced. "I'm going to have to either go back into that orphanage for the summer or get by with the 'help' of some of my Pureblood classmates. And such favors come at a price."
Marak smirked. "I did say 'I have a few things for you' did I not?" Tom looked at him curiously. Marak reached into another pocket and pulled out a small key and, placing it on the table, slid it over to him.
"What is this?"
"This is the key to your new vault at Gringotts under the name Tom Marvolo Riddle. While it is not a fortune such as your most wealthy classmates have, it does contain a significant number of Galleons, Sickles and Knuts. Certainly enough for a chance to get a good start in whatever you might endeavour to do. Also enough for decent supplies for the remainder of your Hogwarts years. I have already reimbursed the funds which were used to pay for your tuition. You are now paid through Seventh year. You also have enough funds to stay at the Leaky Cauldron during the summer or really any other inn. With the War going in the Muggle world and this one, it would probably be best not to attempt to stay in the non-Magical world by yourself as a lone teenager might look suspicious and Muggles hate things that are suspicious during war."
Tom was in shock. He looked at the man who had taken him to another world, given him time and opportunity to grow and learn, given him the knowledge of his family's past, and who now offered a way for him to live a life without being beholden to anyone. Suddenly, his Slytherin suspicion kicked in. "Why? Why have you done all this? Why me? And what will it cost me?"
The man considered that for a long moment. "Well, first of all: I hate seeing someone with so much potential being unable to grow into it. You stand at a crossroads. You have the power, the charm, the charisma, and even the blood, to do great Good or great Evil. I would regret circumstances forcing you into great Evil with no chance at redemption. And so I have ensured you have knowledge, and mental maturity, and opportunity. And I have the resources to do this without creating any difficulties for myself or others. And so I do them. As for the price? I have only one thing I demand."
"And what is that?" he asked.
The man took on a very serious look. "You have the chance to decide how your life will go. That is much more than most of your fellows have. Even the Pureblood children of privilege are greatly constrained by their families' mores and beliefs and so have little chance to decide for themselves what path to take in life. They have as little choice as the poor who are limited by a lack of resources. You have the power and the opportunity to become a great force of good or evil. But." And here the man's face took on a harsh and scary look. "If you even once more contemplate delving into the subject of horcruxes, then I will exert every effort on my part to ensure that you are destroyed, utterly. And I have the power to do so. Make no mistake. Am I one hundred percent, perfectly clear?"
Tom was sufficiently intimidated. He was glad, in that moment, that he had listened to Polgara and Belgareth and had given up any desire to extend his life in an unnatural way. He was quite certain, in that moment, that his very existence hung in the balance. And so he replied, "You are clear. And I truly no longer wish to even research the subject. I claim teenage immaturity and naïveté for my earlier attempts at researching that road. You have my solemn promise." He sighed. "I have no desire, any longer, to avoid death. I hope to live a good life. And when Death comes for me, I will go and be content."
The man nodded. "Good. Oh – and your search for Slytherin's chamber?"
Tom chuckled. "You know about that."
"Yes. I know where it is. It's pretty empty – no much left after a thousand years. There is a doomsday weapon that is likely best avoided."
"Doomsday weapon?" Tom asked.
The man nodded and sighed. "You have to remember that Salazar Slytherin lived in a time where there was no Statute of Secrecy. And Muggles were, for the most part, completely illiterate and relied on priests and nobles for direction – they thought it was the way of the world. And so the priests who spouted about the evil of witchcraft caused the Muggles to hate those who had magic. Any Muggleborn who was invited provided a security risk in his mind. Now the school is Unplottable and is under many enchantments. There is the Statute. There is coordination between the Magical government and the Non-Magical at the highest levels.
"When Slytherin lived, he wanted something that could kill a large number of Muggles that they couldn't protect themselves against. And so he put a basilisk in a Chamber of Secrets. It's the only real Secret there. If the Castle was attacked, he could send his basilisk out. But it's a weapon that is as dangerous to the Magicals as it is to the Muggles."
Tom considered that. "Perhaps if I attempted to speak to it?"
The man shrugged. "You might try. I would coordinate with the Headmaster if I were you. They might try to claim that its school property but it was Slytherin's Chamber and you are of Slytherin descent. Indeed, without Parseltongue, the Chamber can't be opened."
"Where is the entrance?" Tom asked. "I'm nearly done deciphering the clues Slytherin left behind, but I'm not there yet."
The man grinned. "I'll leave it for you to actually find. Just remember that this is a thousand years ago. Rooms have changed. But I am certain you will find it."
"I'll take that challenge," Tom smirked.
"Yeah. Still, I wouldn't brag about where it is. At least until you are an adult and can validly claim it as a family resource. And if they argue, remind them that it's not part of the Hogwarts wards and therefore can't truly be considered a part of Hogwarts. And if they insist, just refuse to open it. It's not like you are an employee of Hogwarts. And if they claim you owe the school, point out that all funds were returned and as such you have the same responsibility as any other student or alumnus and no more."
Tom nodded. "My thanks for all you have done for me. I can now see my former path was not toward a pleasant future."
"You are welcome." The man stood and said, "Good luck on making your own way in life without the chains you held fast to in the past."
Tom nodded. As the man turned he said, "They are still going to be obnoxious about demanding to know how I became independent."
The man paused and said, "Tell them that it was a reward for becoming the Disciple of Marak Ilumian, God of Knowledge and Travel, Patron God of Free Will. If they don't believe you, ask them to verify with the Goblins exactly who and what I am."
Tom looked at his guide in shock and watched as he started walking away. The figure of the man compressed down to a bright light and moved off and disappeared. There was phoenix song wafting around the Library and it conveyed a sense of both resolve … and amusement.