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I don´t own harry potter and I don´t own Discworld. As my last name is neither Rowling nor Pratchett

The L-Space is a wonderful and terrible thing. L-Space is based on the almost mathematical equation Knowledge=Power=Energy=Matter=Mass. This postulation states, that as a book contains Knowledge it also has mass beyond the simple matter it is made from. Therefore, big gatherings of books have an amount of mass that allows itself to bend the fabric of reality beyond the boundaries of time and space.

A great Author (whose name I don't have to tell you when you read this) once described one of the two main contributors to this phenomenon as a genteel black hole that knows how to read. What did he mean with this?

A Bookshop if you let it can grip a hold of you and never lets you go again. It´s grip is an iron one forged by the words of wordsmiths and tempered by the unending stream of new reading material one can obtain there.

The second contributor to this phenomenon tends to have "Guardians" that guide and to a degree protect the uninitiated, the proprietors of the first category tend to be less inclined to do so.

Which is quite likely due to the fact that, they have a far lower chance of ever encountering a materialization of the L-Space.

Libraries after all tend to be far bigger than a book store and even if there are exemptions to this general rule the books in bookstores rarely have the regularity to wear the fabric of reality out to the same degree as a fully stocked library can.

You can compare it to wearing out your favourite place on the couch in your living room. Moulding the cushion with your behind until it fits you perfectly. For this to happen you don't have to sit on it all day and night. You can go out on a walk, go to work have dinner with your partner and so on. No matter what happens you come home and your couch cushion is still welcoming your buttocks in the same way you left it.

Library books return to their traditional place once they have seeded their stories in the minds of their readers.

Books in shops once they leave they do not return. (At least if grandaunt Patience did not misread your twelfth birthday Wishlist and instead of the latest science fiction or fantasy novel bought you a book on how to take care of your begonias.) Those books rarely if ever connect with each other to form the semi-conscious gestalt entity that ultimately connects to the L-Space.

So, to sum this up a Library is the most common space where one can encounter the L-Space, but bookstores can if rarely have such a connection too. This is especially the case if the store´s owner is the sole employee has greying or white hair and only rarely adds books that he or she has not read him or herself. Of course, they order you the books you ask for, but you will never get the same blessing smile that you get if you bought something they have read and want to share with you. For most of those people have a connection to their books that nearly makes them Librarians.

This story could have started in an idyllic village surrounded by impossibly large trees where a plucky young blonde boy with more kindness in his heart than physically possible, learns one of the most essential joys one can experience. No matter how much people try to interfere with his happiness due to their own ignorance he could learn to cherish the written worlds more than the dreadful life his burden has placed upon him. This would allow the genteel black hole to grasp him and he would no longer be the person we know. But this would be against his nature for alas when this boy loves he loves to his fullest and nothing could force him to abandon those few he loves. So, he never reaches out to our genteel friend and chances pass unnoticed.

It could also have started on a small island in the middle of the sea surrounded by dangers one would not like to imagine, be they man, monster or manmade monster. A small kid, not knowing what reading is, could find a small used books store at the corner of the village he lives in with his, gentle almost mother, caretaker. There the proprietor shows him the fabulous world of stories, that allow the freedom of the mind. But alas that world is not kind to books which show freedom, nor is it in the kid's persona to look for books. No he looks for adventure and action. Alas another chance wasted.

On the other hand, our stories protagonist doesn't know love. We all learn from example what emotions are and how we should define them and as no memory of him is filled with this emotion, he doesn't know them.

Disdain Aversion Revulsion and Hatred on the other hand he knows. He sees them day in day out in the faces and actions of those that are of his blood. But even those that only know this emotions rarely if ever want to experience them. They yearn for what they can only see from afar. They look for ways to experience them and in this case our young hero finds a source.

One quite spring morning Young Harry must endure a bout of his cousin's favourite game "Harry Hunting". While this game rarely ends well for the 8-year-old boy he is in luck this morning. The bullies his cousin normally relies on to supplement his abysmal stamina are unavailable as today is registration day of the local football-club and the concerned mothers of young Dudley's friends are unwilling to see their sons grow to the same size as their child's friend. Therefore, young Harry´s escape is successful and as he is on the lookout for a place to hide he sprints along Little Whinging's Main street until he reaches Greater Whinging where he stops to catch his breath. Realizing that he had run farther, then he had so before and had reached the neighbourhood where his aunt normally went to shop and therefore, where he had to play pack-mule and so curiosity reared its head.

Upon Seeing the different possible places to look around in he sees a store, which his aunt never entered. A store that holds something he cherished while it lasted. Once he had solace in the school classrooms small library. But upon his cousin's realization and subsequent lies, even this small nugget of joy was taken away.

As he entered a musty dry smell surrounded him, a small bell heralding his entrance. Not being greeted by anyone and after waiting for a time, he started looking.

He was wandering in the stacks for what felt like hours, looking at books in awe, then he noticed something. Turning around and looking behind he saw, that the corridor he had passed through stretched onwards for an eternity. Getting afraid he ran.

A short while later he noticed a change. Books became less and less frequent and were replaced by what he recognized as tomes and folios. The bookcases gained brass rails some volumes were even chained to their places in the cases.

After running even further he passed an intersection. Suddenly a hand shot out of the corridor, stopping him in place. Once Harry had been stopped, the large hand moved and pointed on a brass sign, that was nailed to the side of one of the cases.

It read: No running in the library.

After reading the sign and understanding the concept, Harry noticed the strangeness of the hand that had stopped him. It had an odd colour, very leathery skin and furthermore was topped with orange red hair, some might even call it fur. His eyes followed the hand upwards, where they landed upon a teal sleeve, following it further his eyes landed upon an almost human-like face.

Said face diverted from human standard by looking exactly like an Orang-Utan´s. Except for the pair of glasses perched on top of its nose.

"Ugh" The Librarian said.