Upon arriving home again, Harry immediately scuttled to his desk, took out a quill and paper and began to write.
Revered Prof. Snape (I can't get used to you being Reverend, sorry),
It's a pity that Mom can't reply to me herself, but I'm happy that she's having a good time. Send her my love, please.
We here are having hard times, hard times. I still can't forgive myself for Dumbledore's Army – had I not thought of it that fateful year, I might've had a job now. Voldemort's been defeated, I'm glad to tell you, and now everything is sugar and spice again. Almost our entire year has gone on to become Aurors. Even Hermione did, though now she's an avid campaigner for house elf rights – even batshit craziness pays off better than aurorisms do. Shaklebolt, dirty old cat, says he doesn't need as many Aurors, as there's nothing to defend the wizard population from, except the Aurors themselves, it seems.
A year ago, I was cheated out of a job by non other than the snake Blaise Zabini – who now quotes you regularly, Professor. Ron, on the other hand, fell out of order ages ago for being an irresponsible worker and all that. Personally, I think it's because he was coming onto his boss – she was a pretty girl – and Hermione didn't like that, so she employed her amazing skills and got him fired. Since then, I and Ron have been living off her money – Ginny, ungrateful cow, married that snake Blaise Zabini – and going to gigs and all that. The other Aurors have taken to highway robbery and small boycotts and public demonstrations. Some have even gone into the theater. We've seen Parvati Patil and Seamus Finnigan doing Romeo and Juliet just recently – I enclose the programme for your perusal, along with a bar of soap. It's amazing – do you really have no soap in Heaven?
Is Mom really that scary? That's really weird. Somehow I never thought of her being scary. But that's only because she'd never be scary to me, I suppose. Does Sirius really come around sometimes? Tell him he's an awful bastard – leaving me to fend for myself like that! Tell Remus that his son is doing fine. But I suppose he knows that, old fruit.
Please do send some cherries. I don't get anything but fish and chips here.
Your affectionate student,
Harry J. Potter xoxoxoxo
He stood up and opened the window, his face convulsing as a powerful gust of wind hit it squarely in the middle. He ripped up the letter once again and set it to the wind and watched it for a long time as the scraps cavorted, unfurling, in the smoky London atmosphere until they disappeared completely in the gray masses of sky. He reached into his pocket and took out a large bar of lavender-smelling soap, carved 'Rev. Severus Snape' into the block and cast it out the window after the letter.
Needless to say, the soap fell to the ground. It would've probably broken to pieces if not for a bit of luck – its fall was broken by a head in a large top hat.
The gentleman passing under the window shrieked as a large piece of lavender soap landed on him with a thud and skipped over his pine to reach the ground. He swore loudly and beat his fist at the sky, searching, his eyes livid, for the miscreant that had dropped the soap. Harry giggled immaturely and shut the window.