Though somewhat dated, the expression “to have a hairy heart” has passed into everyday Wizarding language to describe a cold or unfeeling witch or wizard. My maiden aunt Honoria always alleged that she called off her engagement to a wizard in the Improper Use of Magic Office because she discovered in time that “he had a hairy heart.” (It was rumored, however, that she actually discovered him in the act of fondling some Horklumps,¹² which she found deeply shocking.) More recently, the self-help book The Hairy Heart: A Guide to Wizards Who Won’t Commit¹³ has topped bestseller lists.

BABBITTY RABBITTY AND
HER CACKLING STUMP

A long time ago, in a far-off land, there lived a foolish King who decided that he alone should have the power of magic.

He therefore commanded the head of his army to form a Brigade of Witch-Hunters, and issued them a pack of ferocious black hounds. At the same time, the King caused proclamations to be read in every village and town across the land: “Wanted by the King: an Instructor in Magic.”

No true witch or wizard dared volunteer for the post, for they were all in hiding from the Brigade of Witch-Hunters.

However, a cunning charlatan with no magical power saw a chance of enriching himself, and arrived at the palace, claiming to be a wizard of enormous skill. The charlatan performed a few simple tricks that convinced the foolish King of his magical powers, and was immediately appointed Grand Sorcerer in Chief, the King’s Private Magic Master.

The charlatan bade the King give him a large sack of gold, so that he might purchase wands and other magical necessities. He also requested several large rubies, to be used in the casting of curative charms, and a silver chalice or two, for the storing and maturing of potions. All these things the foolish King supplied.

The charlatan stowed the treasure safely in his own house and returned to the palace grounds.

He did not know that he was being watched by an old woman who lived in a hovel on the edge of the grounds. Her name was Babbitty, and she was the washerwoman who kept the palace linens soft, fragrant, and white. Peeping from behind her drying sheets, Babbitty saw the charlatan snap two twigs from one of the King’s trees, and disappear into the palace.

The charlatan gave one of the twigs to the King and assured him that it was a wand of tremendous power.

“It will only work, however,” said the charlatan, “when you are worthy of it.”

Every morning the charlatan and the foolish King walked out into the palace grounds, where they waved their wands and shouted nonsense at the sky. The charlatan was careful to perform more tricks, so that the King remained convinced of his Grand Sorcerer’s skill, and of the power of the wands that had cost so much gold.

One morning, as the charlatan and the foolish King were twirling their twigs, and hopping in circles, and chanting meaningless rhymes, a loud cackling reached the King’s ears. Babbitty the washerwoman was watching the King and the charlatan from the window of her tiny cottage, and was laughing so hard she soon sank out of sight, too weak to stand.