Dear Professor Dumbledore,
Let me tell you, it's not easy being the Hogwarts Express. First off, I have to deal with this slight problem that my platform DOESN'T EXIST. Children think it is great fun passing through a barrier to platform 9 ¾, well let me tell you, for me THIS IS NOT FUN. I have to literally derail and pull into a BRICK WALL. Each time I do this, I SWEAR I take YEARS off my life.
If this were all I had to deal with, well, then I'd deal. But, of course it's NOT. I have to deal with children. You know, those sticky fingered, runny nosed creatures. Well, if this weren't bad enough, these children have WANDS. Of course, they haven't a bloody CLUE how to use them, so they just wave them around and make a bunch of hocus-pocus noise.
Oh, and speaking of creatures, they ALL have pets. I don't mean kittens and puppies; I mean owls and rats. There's this one toad that's crept into ALL my little private corners. If I could talk, I'd tell its owner that it HATE HIM. I can't even talk, and it's THAT OBVIOUS.
What's worse than children: TEENAGERS. First off, their hormones are RAGING. My compartments have seen more snogging than some London movie theaters. When teenagers aren't fooling around with each other, they're fooling around with their wands. Don't they know the rules, NO MAGIC ON THE TRAIN!
No one realizes that I'm a magical train. What would they think on September 1st if they arrived on platform 9 ¾ and I weren't there? No Hogwarts Express means no silly magic school. Why don't I just quit? Well, trust me I would have YEARS ago, though I can't. Let me explain:
Years and years ago I was a man named George Barnard, an English architect. I was building my first bridge when I saw an odd colorful flower across the river, and while leaning to get a better look, I fell to my untimely death – and here I am. I know it makes NO sense, but that's what happened. I just became the personification of the Hogwarts Express after I died.
This brings me to my point. I am writing you to ask for a raise, and some overall protection from the HARRASMENT of your students. I don't mean to blackmail you, because I respect your authority greatly (your card from the chocolate frogs series has been stuck between my cushions so many times that I have MEMORIZED it's contents), but I remember a certain Albus Dumbledore from his own Hogwarts days. I also remember a certain Daisy Plumage. Ring any bells? No? Well… let me remind you: Prefect's compartment, end of sixth year. Do you remember when she stood up and pointed to the right side of her head and said, "I am not left brained!" Anyway, I think you get the point…
I appreciate your time, as I understand you are a busy man, Albus Dumbledore. I request only that you consider my demand for respect and see to it that my needs are met. Thank you.
Cordially Yours,
The Hogwarts Express
A/N: I tell you, this was great fun to write :) Aren't satires great?
Well, thanks for reading. ~Jul
