Author's Note: I did it again. Why do I always remember right after midnight? I know you're all probably tired of hearing me say that I'm sorry. But it's still true.

[Bathilda Bagshot]

Friday, April 3, 1981

Hello, dear Harry.

It's good to write to you. Your parents were very kind to allow me to write in your Wizarding Book. It's an honor. I've met you before, of course. I only live down the road, you know.

I'm telling you this in case it's not the truth anymore. Things change, and I doubt your parents will want to live in Godric's Hollow for all their lives. It's a sleepy little town, lovely for me, but I'm sure there are many places better suited for a growing little boy.

Me? I'll live here until the end of my days, Harry, but I don't intend for a little thing like old age to keep me down. I'm active yet, though much less sprightly than I was in my youth.

I've been able to visit so much because your mother is a dear friend of mine. We've become close in the time that your family has lived here. The townsfolk are lovely, of course, but she's been feeling a wee bit cut off from Wizarding society at the mo.

It must be hard to go from constant wizarding interaction to such a lack of it. Now, this sleepy little town is perfect for me, but it's no place for young people like your parents. Young people need to roam, they need excitement, or they get restless. [*]

I've been able to become such a good friend of your parent's because I know Albus so well. He's a good boy, very kind. I can tell, though, when he thinks to visit, that the war is heavy on his shoulders. The last war took so much out of Albus- he sacrificed more than anyone should ever have to. But here he is, doing it again.

Albus used to live here, too, you know. That was long ago, however. His family has moved on since then, their time here a distant memory for those two poor boys. Shame what happened, truly a shame…

I remember, of course. My mind is like a steel trap, even in my elder years. I've always had a mind for facts, and a love of history.

Your parents were very kind to invite me over for tea. I love seeing them.

And you, so young, so sweet. You'll be a powerful one, I can tell. Sometimes the best ones are the late bloomers, but this time I think this time it's different.

Well I was holding you earlier, nothing odd about the occasion, except that you didn't have your little soft toy dog with you. I think it's your favorite one. Well you were reaching for it, as far as your little arms could reach. Now normally, I would have grasped it myself, and handed it over to you, but the most curious thing happened.

I didn't need to give you the doll, because it came to you itself! It floated over a couple inches until it was in your reach. Now magic at your age isn't unheard of, but it certainly is a very good sign.

It's probably because your parents are so talented. But not everything is in blood; you've got a fair amount of raw talent there yourself.

Well I'd best be going- as much as I'd love to keep writing to you; I've got precious more to say. As much experience I have with Wizarding Books, you never really get used to it. I do love the tradition, though.

So I'll take my leave now, and maybe if Merlin allows it, I'll be writing to you again soon.

With love and well-wishes,

Bathilda

Author's Note: I love suggestions. Suggestions are the best! Keep them coming in, please :)

*Keep in mind, Bathilda Bagshot had Grindelwald as a ward. Young people get restless, indeed.