Was study hall really a subject? Monet couldn’t help wondering this as she walked into the Reference Centre. What were they expected to do? Homework? Monet had got in to the habit of finishing all homework in her room at night. It wasn’t something she found that stressful, though she wondered if she should have. Most students, so it seemed, had an aversion to homework. Monet, who had worked very hard from a very young age, found that it took her no time at all and, if anything, it gave her something to do with her spare time.

Wearing her trademark all black (black jeans, black shirt, black combat boots), she had tied her red hair in a messy bun and headed down to study hall. When she got there, the first thing she did was gasp. The grandeur of rooms at RMI kept taking her by surprise. The second thing she had done was look around for the Muggle literature section.

Monet was a half-blood who lived with her Pureblood aunt, but she had been raised with a mix of wizard and Muggle culture. Reading had never been high on her list of things to do, she was much more at home with practical tasks, but, as she was in a library, it seemed like the perfect time to do some. One of the few authors that had managed to keep Monet from drifting off to playing the guitar or build card houses was Agatha Christie. A Muggle author, known as “The Queen of Crime”, Christie’s books were murder mysteries that focused more on method and deduction, rather than graphic violence. Monet liked how they were so simple and yet so complicated. She felt that the fictional detectives could teach her a lot. She also admired Miss Marple, the elderly spinster/amateur detective, immensely, particularly because of her knowledge of human nature.

Finding the Muggle books near the checkout, Monet scanned the shelves until she found Christie. She then picked “Murder on the Orient Express”, a Poirot tale, but still one of her favorites.

As she sat down, the librarian stood up and gave a little speech about working quietly. She seemed grumpy. While most would shy away from this, Monet found it interesting. She wondered what put her in a bad mood, what had happened before the class, what might happen to her after the class. Monet always wondered this about people. Sometimes, back home in New York, she would find a bench and just sit and watch people. It was a relaxing exercise, if an indulgent one.

Monet tried to read for a little bit, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she could be doing something more productive. But what? She wasn’t even entirely sure what she was supposed to be doing. Though she hated to ask for help, she turned to the person next to her and said quietly, “sorry, but do you know what we’re actually supposed to do?”