Musings on recent history by professor emeritus Bathilda Bagshot

Musings on recent history by professor emeritus Bathilda Bagshot

Dear friendly readers of The Moodist, 

I would first of all like to thank the editorial team for including me in this month’s reader’s letter section, providing me with a platform to share some thoughts, as I can’t help but feel slightly mistreated by recent events and want to set a few things right. 

My name is professor Bathilda Bagshot and I am a tad frustrated: I may be the most celebrated magical historian of the century, but ironically enough will go down in history as the scary old hag whose head burst open to unveil a ferocious man-eating snake. The merit of meticulously keeping track of every spell, life and death in the magical universe for the past hundred years, covered in over ten acclaimed books, seems to have vanished -“poof”, like Lily Potter’s goldfish!- the day some dark imbecile decided to kill me and thereafter house his murderous pet inside my poor remains. Merlin’s beard, there’s even a scary Lego version of me! 

I’m pretty sure my hardly glorious screen time in that retched Harry Potter movie is responsible for little children all over the world being terrified of their utterly pleasant, elderly neighbor. It is true I reached a more than respectable old age,  but even later on in life I went about sporting a perfectly neat bun and kept my hundred-year-old skin in shape with some good ol’ Nivea creme. Nevertheless, that dreadful film crew wouldn’t even allow me a hint of contouring, let along a color corrector to mask the bags under my dead eyes. And I don’t even want to comment on the brown cardigan they made me wear. 

Worst part is I don’t own a TV here in the hereafter, and only became aware of this gross injustice àfter Muriel Weasley, Ron’s chatty great-aunt, kicked the bucket and arrived at King’s Cross For The Death –as that is were us wizards appear to travel to when we die. I awaited her there, you see, as I had a bone to pick with her about calling me “gaga” in front of Harry Potter and Elphias Doge at Fleur and Bill’s wedding, but she beat me to it. “Batty, you old hag,” she cried. “What a performance! I’m dying to know how you managed to secure thàt starring role in the Deathly Hallows! Oh dear, you didn’t know, didn’t you?” Being the prying prick she is, she even brought me a DVD so I could see it all to myself and, by all goblins, I died a second time as I watched myself standing there in our lovely local graveyard, giving two perfectly nice teenagers the stare of death, and then what happened afterwards… I don’t want to discuss it any further.  

I fear it is impossible to erase the awful sight of my uncombed, non-contoured head bursting open, but here are some facts that may change your vision of me. Beside my priceless academical contribution to magical history, my amazing cooking skills and my honorary status as longest person ever to have lived in Godric’s Hollow, I am quite the socialite and have rubbed shoulders with many greats during my time in that charming little village. Not only was I very close with the Dumbledore family, I am afraid I’m also responsible for introducing young Albus to his lifelong frennemy and obsession, my great-nephew Gellert Grindelwald. Later on, I would befriend Lily and James Potter, who invited me –and me alone, ha!- to celebrate their baby’s first birthday alongside them. Who else can claim they’ve had tea with infant Harry Potter –virgin forehead and all?! If only I had known that lovely afternoon tea party would be the last I saw of them… 

Anyway, it’s not in my nature at all to bring up ancient history, but I am seriously considering haunting the Deathly Hallows filmcrew into making a rehabilitating documentary about my life and work. This time, I want full control of anything hair & make-up and I can promise you there will be no snakes –except for maybe that serpent Muriel- involved. It would be titled “Bathilda Bagshot goes with a Bang” and pave the way for a more serene relationship between little kids and their wrinkled neighbors all across the universe. Now dears, wouldn’t that be lovely? Please provide your thoughts on the matter in this magazine’s comment section and rest assured I will take them into consideration when producing my documentary. Wishing you the best of days and hoping you will see more of me soon, 

Yours truly, 

Professor emeritus Bathilda Bagshot

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