I am Morgana Anakina Beatrix Black the great enchantress...

My name is Morgana Anakina Beatrix Black the great enchantress; half hidden sister- cousin- by- marriage to the Lestranges; sender of the false sword and scabbard, damsel in distress and wife of Sir Urience. I greeteth you in rich draperies of silk and gold, biddeth you be strong of heart for tomorrow you shall do battle with a strange knight: a gay blood. I desireth you as you do love him to fight this battle to the uttermost and without mercy, as you have promised me you would when I should require it of you. I will make a rich queen forever of any damsel that shall bring me that knight's head with whom you are to fight, at the sounds of the trumpets for he hast me all too long done me too much damage. The gay blood, or shall I say, the boy who lived, hast dareth to come to my presence and sayeth he that he a gay-blood is. Ah! in my face, as I stumbleth through the news, the spasm of that memory hast pervadeth and twisteth my beautiful face. He hast a wimpy wimpy wimpy wiener ( or so hast I heard for the boy with my huge lover Sir Tom hath dareth to commune too). Oh, no. Oh no. The boy that lived or also known as Harry Potter is the new enemy of Queen Morgana Anakina. I will grip his intestines and use them as a jumping cord. Harry (or forthwith shall I say either "Harriet the fag" or "Irma Danielle" for reasons I shalt account later in the hour) shall never hast a chance against my witchy craft, my uppermost intelligence and cunning! I shall sayeth the world of his gayness, of his wretched-queen-alter ego "Irma Danielle" and his anorexic way of living on the high-coûture catwalk.


Of what hast happened to Harry "the fag"/"Irma Danielle" and how I cometh to meet him:


I hast in numerous ocassions heard of this boy . Some years ago, he was known to everybody as the transitional son to one Petunia and her plump boar faced husband. He hast a cousin named Dudley who resembleth a fat whale but that I fail to want to harm with my bad, mean, witchy eyes simply because he hated Harry "the gay" too. Those times were also difficult for the masters of dark marks were in the loose and my protegé and pupil Lord Voldemort, my only one, had disappeared unexpectedly. Hast he hidden himself under the closet too? I must have madeth that question to some of my peers and prepareth myself for the shamefullest of answers but no one dareth speaketh the truth. It is a grievous custom I know but there is one knight to defeat. A proper way of disguising those who would attempt the deed be it through the transfiguration into beautiful knights. At one point me thinketh your sword is not good or not long enough; do not distress. I shall maketh or lendeth you a bigger. Thou shall brake his helmet and unnail his hauberk, smoteth him in full sore with the fated sword till yor breaths fail and the ground tinted with red blood shall be. By magic, I shall make Sir Ector (my beloved father) play his bewitched great horn-trumpet that only causes pain and anxiety to those who hear it. Then, seeing that in great heaviness of spirit and pensiveness he shall remain, I shall send out for Lady Victoria (my beloved mother) who'll aggrieve him with incessant quarrel. Everywhere the vengeance of Queen Morgana Anakina Beatrix Black shall be known.
************************************************************************
Of how I encountered him and my etymologic reflections on the name HP and of his evilness: The name HP are the prime letters for the phrase "hijodeputa" which in some arcaic-not-in-use-language-from-far-away-into-oblivion meaneth "fruit of a very promiscuous damisel" or "fruit of the womb that rotted". The word "fruit" hast been used in several metaphorical descriptions as "gay" in earlier ages. In some tale I readeth recently, the fruit Eve gaveth to Adan may hast referred to their son Abel. This alludes to the delicate constitution of the boy Abel that liked the ethereal life in the country or the real love-life of Eve but alludeth too the vulnerable state of a fruit or fellow with such passions. I know not, damned be thee, old literature for thou art bound for some speculation but surely the name of HP may hath been a preamble for the behaviour of the boy in his forth age.
My apt pupil is Voldemort. I am above him for I taught him what he knows. I dareth not say he is dead; he liveth in a perpetual dream state not recognizing his real queen and truest mentor from all the other fake mentors ( teachers at Hogwarts). My pupil lost a confrontation with the baby H.P. resulting in his partial death and passing of this world.