“Well, Merlin’s uncle…” Babbling laughed and shook her head.
“I’ve heard of Rune Savants, but I never expected to meet one. I thought you were simply another prodigy like me.”
Harry tore his gaze from the cluster and frowned at the young woman.
“Rune Savant, ma’am?” “Someone who reads and understands runes the way most people read a language—instinctively.
Muggles use the term ‘idiot savant’ for a person who struggles with nearly everything except one extraordinary talent.
Among wizards we use it for someone whose magic itself grants deep insight into a single subject, without corresponding difficulties elsewhere.
“Most of us spend years memorising and drilling just to grasp the basics. I’m a prodigy; I work faster and at a higher level than most, so it comes more easily—but I still have to work at it. People like you, Harry, look at a rune or a cluster and simply see what it does and how every element fits. It’s extraordinarily rare. If you ever went into curse-breaking or warding you’d probably skip a decade of training and never lack for commissions. You don’t have to use the gift that way, of course, but it’s an option. I only wanted you to know it exists.”
She scowled briefly.
“And drop the ‘ma’am.’ I’m nineteen—closer to your age than to most of my colleagues. In private I’ll answer to Babble, Babbling, or Shiva. If that feels wrong, stick with Professor.”
“Shiva?” Harry’s brow furrowed.
She gave a rueful smile.
“My first name is Bathsheda—frankly awful. Sheda is close enough to Shiva, and… well, I nearly blew myself up twice in second year. Shiva is a Hindu goddess of destruction. The name stuck.”
“Probably,” she admitted with a one-shouldered shrug.
“But I’m closer to your age than to any other professor. I was hired straight out of school and I’ve only been teaching a year. I can still get away with it—especially since Dumbledore doesn’t seem to care. If he did, he’d have to crack down on Severus as well, and that’s never going to happen.” She glowered for a moment, then her voice softened.
“I told you I’m a prodigy. Even being careful, I nearly killed myself twice before I turned fourteen. You grew up Muggle; they can’t help you with the experiments you’ll want to try. I’d like to be that help—at least a sounding board so you don’t hurt yourself. Call me whatever you like, but I want to make sure you don’t go through the same mess I did. Especially since you’re likely to be far more proactive about it. I just enjoyed runes and was good at them. You speak them.”
A flick of her wand brought four thick books sailing from a drawer to land in a neat stack beside her.
“Borrow these for a few months—I’ll need them back by year’s end. They cover advanced methods and the rarer primes you won’t find in the usual texts. I normally give this material to my O.W.L. students, so don’t be put off if parts feel dense. I can offer private lessons as well, though I recommend you spend this first year simply exploring—see what you like, both in runes and in other branches of magic. My door is always open, Harry. Ask for help or advice about anything.”
Harry stared at her, then ran a reverent hand over the books.
“I… thank you, Professor…”
“No problem.” She hopped down from the desk, smiling.
“I’m no savant, but I understand a little of how it feels. And I genuinely love Ancient Runes. Not many students find the subject entertaining, so it’s a pleasure to talk shop with someone who does—especially someone who actually experiments with new clusters. Just be extremely careful energising anything you’re uncertain about. Don’t get overconfident.”
“Yes… Shiva,” Harry said hesitantly.
He gathered the books and started for the door.
“Oh, and Harry? Don’t give away all your secrets—even to me. You could make a very comfortable living marketing some of the things you’ll invent.”
Harry walked out with his head spinning.
Supportive.
The idea felt almost dangerous.
He shook his head, narrowed his eyes, and kept walking.
Better not to dwell on it.
If adults could be helpful… then something was very rotten in Surrey.
Before taking his new books back to the dormitory, Harry stopped at Professor Flitwick’s office.
A thin sheen of sweat had already formed between his shoulders as he sat down.
“Hello, Professor. Before anything else, I wanted to apologise for what happened in class last week.”
Flitwick’s brow furrowed, then smoothed into a small chuckle.
“The rune shortcut? Don’t apologise for that, Mr Potter. I was simply rather stunned. I hadn’t realised you could do something of the sort!”
“Oh.” Harry tightened his grip on the books against his chest.
“I see Bathsheda managed to pin you down long enough to hand over some extra material. Keep up the excellent work, Harry. And please—if you ever need assistance or advice, do not hesitate to ask. Your mother was a remarkable charms mistress, and while I know you seem to be following a different path, I’m certain some charm-work could still prove useful to your research one day. At least, I certainly hope so.” He finished with a wide, genuine grin.