I love the fact that little kids think I'm a witch. A mum might

The actress Natalia Tena, beloved by audiences for her role in Harry Potter as the free-spirited witch, once said: “I love the fact that little kids think I’m a witch. A mum might come over and say, ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, but my daughter thinks you’re in Harry Potter.’ I’ll say, ‘That’s cool,’ and take the kid aside and say, ‘I’m a witch. If you don’t listen to your mum, I’m going to haunt you!’ It’s brilliant. I can scare kids into doing their homework.” Though spoken with laughter, these words hold within them a glimmer of ancient truth — a reflection of the power of imagination, the mystery of story, and the sacred link between wonder and wisdom. For in the heart of her playful jest lies something timeless: that stories have power, and those who embody them can shape the hearts of others in ways that reason alone cannot.

To be mistaken for a witch — in the eyes of a child — is not a curse, but a kind of blessing. In ages past, the witch was a symbol of the mysterious, the one who lived at the edge of the known world, commanding forces unseen and untamed. The witch stood as both feared and revered — a reminder that not all knowledge lies within books, and not all power wears a crown. In Natalia Tena’s words, we hear a continuation of this ancient archetype. She accepts the child’s belief not to mock it, but to honor it. By stepping into the myth, she keeps the magic alive — for to destroy a child’s wonder is to darken the lamp that lights the way to wisdom.

The origin of this truth reaches deep into the oldest traditions. The storytellers of ancient Greece, the shamans of the north, the griots of Africa — all understood that myth is not mere entertainment, but medicine for the soul. Through laughter, fear, and enchantment, the young were taught virtue, courage, and curiosity. When Natalia Tena tells a child, “I am a witch,” she is, in essence, joining that same lineage — guiding imagination toward respect, play, and even discipline. Her jest, “If you don’t listen to your mum, I’ll haunt you,” carries not cruelty, but a clever wisdom: that stories, when told with warmth, can shape behavior more effectively than scolding ever could. It is the ancient art of teaching through enchantment.

In history, we find this power of story again and again. The philosopher Plato once warned that the myths of a society shape its moral fabric more than its laws. He wrote that the guardians of the city must be careful about the tales told to children, for those stories would become the framework of their souls. Centuries later, mothers across the world still use the same magic — they whisper tales of gentle spirits who reward kindness, or stern ones who punish disobedience. Whether it is the fairy or the witch, the saint or the ghost, these figures live in the imagination as guides and guardians. Natalia Tena’s humor, then, is not trivial; it is the modern echo of an ancient truth: that wisdom wears many disguises — sometimes a teacher, sometimes a storyteller, sometimes a witch.

Yet beneath her laughter lies another kind of power — the power of transformation. In her film, Tena portrayed a witch of courage and compassion, but in life, she becomes something more: a living bridge between fiction and reality. Children look upon her and see not an actress, but the embodiment of magic itself. And she, instead of denying it, affirms their vision. In doing so, she teaches an unwritten lesson — that the imagination is real, not because it exists in the world, but because it exists in the heart. When she “scares kids into doing their homework,” she is not truly instilling fear, but awakening in them the playful sense that actions matter, that the world is alive, that choices have consequence — even if those consequences come from a smiling witch.

The lesson, therefore, is this: embrace the power of story and imagination. Do not rush to strip the world of its enchantment. For in wonder, there is wisdom; in play, there is purpose. The child who believes in witches, fairies, and heroes learns not only to dream, but to discern. Imagination trains the soul to perceive what logic alone cannot — the beauty of possibility, the moral of action, and the invisible threads that bind all things. As adults, we forget too easily that the world’s greatest truths are often first glimpsed through myth. Natalia Tena’s story reminds us to nurture that flame — to speak in symbols, to teach with joy, and to laugh while guiding.

So let these words be passed down, as the ancients would pass a parable around the fire: that laughter and wonder are not enemies of wisdom, but its companions. The witch who frightens gently, the teacher who jokes, the parent who tells a bedtime tale — all are keepers of the same sacred craft: the shaping of the soul through story. As Natalia Tena shows, one can be both playful and profound. For when we honor the dreams of children, we honor the part of ourselves that still believes in magic — and in that belief, the world remains forever young.