The Unauthorized Harry Potter Side Stories: Vignette Number Two -- “Bathsheda the Obscure” by H. Granger

Prologue

The most obscure of JK Rowling’s characters, Bathsheda Babbling is the Ancient Runes professor at Hogwarts. The character never appears in the films nor is mentioned in the books, but Rowling has named her on her official site.

[Etymology: The name Babbling has for its root the word, “babble,” meaning “foolish talk or incoherent speech.” Runes refer to “old Germanic alphabet characters or to magical symbols or spells,” which will not make sense to the unlearned; thus the ancient runes professor’s name, Babbling. – H. Granger]

The moon was starting to wane, but Bathsheda’s raven, Odin, had not yet arrived. Odin had been away for a fortnight then. “The long hard flight from Little Wallop to Hogwarts and back must be taking its toll on him,” Bathsheda thought. Odin was, in fact, too old for such tedious journeys that involve collecting parcels and scrolls, and that trip of a fortnight was his worst – he had a chance encounter with the abominable harpies over the Forest of Nott on his way back from Hogwarts. Odin was dying from the mortal injuries he sustained, and the scroll he collected from Professor Armando Dippet was lying among the dead leaves somewhere in the Forest of Dean. As for Odin, he did not make it home.

Another fortnight passed, and Professor Dippet’s next letter arrived by owl post. By then, Bathsheda had given up hope on Odin’s return, but was still hopefully anticipating Dippet’s correspondence, as she had been since she turned seventeen, when mysterious letters and lavish gifts started arriving from Hogwarts.

The gentle thud against the stained glass window pane jolted Bathsheda awake. Morning had just broken in Little Wallop, the first rays of the morning sun was flooding Bathsheda’s rustic bedroom in rainbow colours.  Some owl from Hogwarts was frantically trying to break into the window of her room, with a scroll tied to one of its legs. Bathsheda reached for her wand-- a seven-inch rosewood with basilisk tendon core—and let the owl in with a flick of her wand, without leaving her bed.

“Accio scroll,” she muttered sleepily.

The letter was, in fact, from Dippet, but was sent by Professor Albus Dumbledore, regretfully informing her that Professor Dippet had retired from his post as Hogwarts headmaster, and that he, Dumbledore, had assumed the post, adding that the former headmaster retired a very sad old man owing to her utter silence. Dumbledore noted briefly that he sent the letter on Dippet’s request, at the appointed time, that is, after he was well on his way to his retirement cottage in some unplottable region of Wales. Now fully awake, Bathsheda read Dippet’s last letter to her:

Batty Dear,

By the time you read this letter, I will have left Hogwarts. As to where I am spending my remaining years on this earth, I am not certain. Life is full of uncertainties, Batty. But there are a few things I am quite certain of: that your mother and I truly loved each other, even if her world will never understand my world; and that no other wish is dearer to me than to see you in the flesh before I die.

I have been meaning to invite you to join the Hogwarts faculty, since your mum wrote about your commendable academic performance at the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. A perfect choice, indeed, for such a fair and gifted witch as you are, dear.  Your headmistress, Madame Francoise Lesyeux, is in awe of your performance in Ancient Runes and Grammatica, in a congratulatory note she posted in the Daily Prophet the day you completed your education.  The wizarding community might brand you as “half-blood,” but for me, your mother’s Muggle blood only made you uniquely beautiful and special. So forgive me, but I confess to being envious of your Muggle foster father, Will Babbling.

Yet, my letters never yielded any response from you. Why, dear? A month before my retirement, I sent you another letter, this time inviting you to a teaching post at Hogwarts. Having received no response, I reckon I will have to live with the fact that I will forever be a shadowy figure in my own daughter’s world—a fate I rightfully deserve, having abandoned your mum before you were born. And although your mother understands why I left, I do not expect you to understand why I could not be a father to you. But know that I will love you and your mother dearly until my dying day.

For the last time, Batty, and with Dumbledore concurring, I am inviting you to join the teaching staff at Hogwarts. The school needs a new Ancient Runes teacher. Tilda Tripplehorn, our Ancient Runes teacher, is too old to remember the last name of the new headmaster, I have taken to calling her the “ancient” Runes teacher.

Lastly, dear, forgive your old man for all the birthdays, Christmases, and holidays I missed.

I remain

Your loving father,

Armando

Bathsheda rolled up the scroll and propped herself up against her pillow. Her cat, Nocturne, jumped onto her lap, locked eyes with her, and, as if responding to some unspoken command, fetched her a quill and a parchment. Bathsheda looked out of her bedroom window and was greeted by the peonies and petunias in full bloom. The sun was already half-way up the morning sky when she began to scribble a note to Dumbledore:

To Professor Dumbledore, Hogwarts Headmaster:

It would be an honour to be accepted as a member of your teaching staff at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I would be grateful for the information by owl post, as to when I could start teaching, so I could arrange my departure from Little Wallop.

Your servant,

Bathsheda “Batty” Babbling