Bathsheda Babbling.
Hogwarts Ancient Runes Professor.
She was an unusually low-key professor — apart from her teaching days, she rarely appeared in Hogwarts corridors. Some even suspected she was a ghost like Professor Binns from History of Magic, but anyone who had ever sat through an Ancient Runes lesson knew that rumor was pure nonsense.
Professor Babbling was not only not a ghost, but also an intellectual beauty in her own right. She always wore a purple wizard hat and a robe that looked more like a purple evening gown. Some claimed she had elven blood, but Sean had checked — her ears were neither longer nor sharper than a typical witch's.
Sean's interest in Ancient Runes had nothing to do with Professor Babbling herself — it came from how closely Ancient Runes tied to Alchemy and the roots of old magic. They were crucial for his magical studies and even for the Transfiguration paper he was writing.
Ancient magic was vast and profound. Even today's so-called experts wouldn't dare claim mastery over it. But Professor Babbling's knowledge, at least in Sean Bulstrode's opinion, stood apart from the half-baked amateurs. Every word and gesture she made in class carried an effortless confidence. Sean often wondered where Dumbledore had found her.
"Ancient magic, also known as Ancient Runes, gives each rune a specific meaning — but that meaning is never just one thing.So when you use Ancient Runes, you must stay flexible. If you use them carelessly, you may trigger something dangerous.The simplest Levitation Charm might call a buffalo if you choose the wrong rune. So don't experiment blindly — or you may see results you'd rather never meet."
As Professor Babbling spoke, she gestured — runes and their meanings appeared on the blackboard, chalk scratching away by itself as if guided by invisible hands.
"Some runes stand for exact things, others for abstract ideas. Today, like in the lessons before, I'll teach you five runes with clear meanings: [Torch], [Rain], [Oak], [Bison], and [Lake]. Remember them well. Write me a paper — two feet long, minimum — on how you would use these five runes. Bring it to next week's Ancient Runes class."
A two-foot essay wasn't even the worst Hogwarts demanded — some professors asked for four or five feet at a time. Even Sean felt a headache at the thought.
After the class ended, Professor Babbling gathered the books and homework from her desk and got ready to leave.
Sean seized the moment, stepped in front of her, and began asking questions about Ancient Runes.
In the past, Sean had always been a step too late — he didn't know her well yet, but every time he tried to catch her after class, she vanished. Once Professor Babbling was out of sight, she would disappear completely and not show up again until the next lesson. It was partly why some students whispered she might be a ghost.
Professor Babbling looked at Sean blocking her path, her face showing clear reluctance, her whole manner radiating polite refusal. But once Sean asked his questions, it was as if some rule bound her — no matter how much she wanted to refuse, she still had to stop and give him thorough answers.
Ancient Runes class was in the morning, and with lunch break right after, Sean could ask as many questions as he liked. He questioned her for nearly forty minutes straight, until Professor Babbling's expression darkened noticeably. Only then did Sean finally let her go, looking quite satisfied.
"Thank you, Professor Babbling — that's all my questions for today."
Today's questions…
Professor Babbling's mouth twitched, but she didn't say a word. She simply strode out of the classroom without looking back.
Sean hurried after her, but just like before — the moment she stepped beyond the doorway, she vanished without a trace.
"She's really elusive," Sean muttered.
The Quidditch season's atmosphere was already in full swing as October began.
Many students were wearing homemade badges to show support for their House teams.
Sean and Blaise stood outside the greenhouse, waiting for Professor Sprout, the Herbology professor, to arrive.
Not far from them, Sean spotted Ron and Hermione arguing in low voices about their pets — Scabbers the rat and Crookshanks the ginger cat.
Sean knew exactly why.
Crookshanks was unusually clever, with a trace of Kneazle blood. By Sean's guess, Crookshanks had likely sensed that Scabbers wasn't an ordinary rat and had tried more than once to catch him — partly to protect Hermione, his owner. There was also the faint possibility that Crookshanks had somehow communicated with Sirius, who was lurking nearby in his Animagus form as a big black dog, and had agreed to help catch Scabbers for him. But in Sean's opinion, that was unlikely.
Of course, Sean knew exactly who Scabbers really was — but no one else did. So in Ron's eyes, Crookshanks' actions looked like simple, mean-spirited hunting of his one and only pet.
When Sean was just a reader in his old world, he'd thought Ron was foolish to keep defending that rat. But now that he was here himself and knew Ron better, he understood Ron's reasons.
Ron had so many siblings. He wasn't the eldest, nor the youngest, nor the wildest — just the ordinary, overlooked one. Not that Ron's parents didn't love him — but with so many children, their attention had always been spread thin. Most of their care went to the eldest, the youngest, or the loudest. Ron, decent and honest, got the least by default.
So from childhood, nearly everything Ron owned was second-hand, handed down through brothers. The only thing that was truly his alone was Scabbers — a pet no one else had wanted. So of course Ron clung to that rat fiercely.
Sean could understand that. But understanding or not, capturing Scabbers — or rather, Peter Pettigrew — still had to happen sooner or later.
Animagus... Sean had been looking forward to that for a long time.