A Curious Muggle Artifact Called a Pod-Cast

As a retired wizard of distinguished service…

…and a stubborn believer that socks should never be self-knitting (where’s the challenge?), I tend to live a quiet life.

My mornings begin with the Daily Prophet, a half-boiled egg, and a firm yelling at the wireless when it starts talking back. So you can imagine my surprise when, wandering through a Muggle secondhand shop in Bath—searching for copper kettles and perhaps a forbidden book or two—I found myself face-to-face with a glowing rectangle calling itself a “podcast.”

Naturally, I assumed it was cursed. I poked it with my wand. Nothing exploded. Encouraged, I accidentally hit “play.” And that’s when everything changed.

What played was a broadcast from two cheerful Muggle lads named Daniel and Hunter. They spoke—quite energetically, I might add—about Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. A film! About a boy wizard! About our world! I nearly choked on my lemon drop.

Now, I’ll confess: I’ve never trusted technology that doesn’t come with a wand or a warning label. But these two chaps drew me in like a Pensieve on payday. They weren’t scholars (one of them referred to Dumbledore as “the greatest living wizard” and then promptly questioned every one of his decisions), but they had something even more powerful than intellect: opinions.

And oh, did they have them.

I was charmed, baffled, and slightly offended…

…all at once—which is exactly how I felt during my third marriage. These two started by asking whether Harry, Ron, and Hermione formed the greatest trio in film history. They compared them to a talking car, a moody vampire, and—Merlin help us—Shrek.

SHREK. I spit out my tea. Twice. One does not simply compare Hermione Granger to a swamp ogre and live to tell the tale.

But I listened on, mostly because I couldn’t figure out how to turn it off. And the more they talked, the more I warmed to their brand of chaotic Muggle insight.

They may not have NEWTs in Magical Theory, but they have heart. (Also, one of them invented a spell called “Cranium Temporus,” which forcibly removes everyone’s hats to expose baldness or Voldemort faces (I haven’t laughed that hard since I accidentally cursed my trousers to sing Celestina Warbeck).

Their take on Quirrell? Inspired. One suggested replacing him with a Muggle entertainer named Fred Armisen, who, I gather, is known for impersonating public figures and looking vaguely sleep-deprived. Fitting, honestly.

And while I was initially skeptical—Quirrell did harbor the Dark Lord on the back of his head, after all—I’ll admit the idea of Voldemort being defeated by a man who once co-starred on a show called Portlandia is weirdly satisfying.

They also took great issue with Dumbledore’s parenting style—or lack thereof. “Why is he letting children get nearly murdered in the Forbidden Forest?” they asked. “Why does he do nothing during the Quidditch match when Harry is being cursed?” Excellent questions, boys. Questions I too have wondered over the years.

Dumbledore, brilliant though he was, often subscribed to the “tough love and light maiming” school of child development.

At one point, they discussed product placements that could’ve fit inside Hogwarts. Now, this is where I nearly spat my firewhisky across the room.

These Muggles, in their infinite creativity, suggested Gold Bond powder as a sponsor for Quidditch. Apparently, sitting on a wooden broom at high speeds is “not ideal for comfort.” They also proposed magic-themed deodorant and broomstick padding. I cannot emphasize this enough: I HOWLED.

You know what else tickled me? Their obsession with the Mirror of Erised. One of them confessed that the scene with Harry’s parents “hits harder in your 30s.” Son, at my age, it hits like a Hippogriff with arthritis.

When Dumbledore said, “It does not do to dwell on dreams,” I had to pause the episode and look out my window for twenty minutes, pondering all the dreams I’ve forgotten—including my 1909 dream of opening a shop that sold wand-polish subscriptions. (Still a good idea. Patent pending.)

These Muggles, for all their banter and snack-based digressions, actually hit on some beautiful truths.

They spoke about how Harry had to choose his friends—that it would’ve been easier to go with Draco, but instead he found true companionship in Ron and Hermione. And isn’t that the point of the whole story? You don’t pick the easy friends; you pick the ones who fight trolls in bathrooms for you.

They even touched on deeper themes, like how bravery isn’t just about facing down a troll or a three-headed dog—it’s about standing up to your own friends when they’re making the wrong call. (Neville Longbottom, if you’re reading this, I raise my wand to you. Also, your cardigan was fantastic.)

Closing Remarks

Rewatching Harry Potter is like the time I found myself sitting in the Hufflepuff common room with two slightly confused but incredibly enthusiastic cousins who once tried to enchant a sandwich. You’re not always sure they know what they’re doing, but you’re enjoying the journey nonetheless.

So here I am, an “old” wizard who still uses parchment for grocery lists, writing an article about a podcast I found on a rectangle that doesn’t even plug into the wall, and I’m recommending it.

Heaven help us.

Now, if someone could please explain what “subscribing” means… and also how to unpair my wand from my neighbor’s Wi-Fi?

Prudius Featherwhistle is a retired Charms examiner and former Head of Magical Quills & Correspondence at the Ministry of Magic. He enjoys owl-spotting, mispronouncing modern slang, and insisting that the wizarding world “was better before Felix Felicis was popularized.”

He currently resides in the South Downs, where he keeps a modest greenhouse and 14 grudging Kneazles. His memoir “I Told You So: An Unofficial History of Magical Mistakes” is banned in five countries.