Dear Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,
I recently received a letter of admission from you, which is strange because I had never heard of your fine institution until now. Thankfully a Ms. Minerva McGonagall was able to meet with me and explain some of the customs and expectations to me. You sound like a great school, and I’m honored to have been considered for admission. However, I must respectfully decline your invitation.
According to Ms. McGonagall, Hogwarts exists on some weird in-between plane of existence where most people can’t even find it, which honestly sounds pretty ideal in terms of places to spend my time. That was definitely an area of interest to me. However, she then went on to describe the sprawling grounds and constantly shifting floor plan, and—
I’m sorry, I just want to emphasize that CONSTANTLY SHIFTING FLOOR PLAN bit. Is that real? You really chose to have an already massive castle made even more indecipherable by making it never consistent? Yikes. I would much rather stay in my comfortable, manageable cupboard under the stairs, thank you very much.
I’m sure Ms. McGonagall has reported back something terrible about my living conditions because she certainly seemed shocked by my quarters. Since I know someone among your people put in a lot of effort to make sure I was taken care of when my parents died, I want to reassure you that Uncle Dursley and Aunt Petunia are lovely people, and I could not ask for better caretakers. Basically they understand that I like to be left to myself most of the time, and they’ve even allowed me to claim the cupboard under the stairs for my own private space—the upstairs master bedroom was far too large for one pre-adolescent boy.
The cupboard is basically a dream room, like a fort and secret hiding space and living area all rolled into one. I can sit here and read all I want, and no one needs to bother me. And yes, before you ask, there’s internet access so I’m able to manage my personal blog about different types of snakes. (If you want to check that out, it’s called Harry’s Snake Blog because I’m not very good with titles.)
Ms. McGonagall tried to encourage me to come enroll at Hogwarts, but I honestly just don’t think it’s for me. We visited Diagon Alley so she could give me a sense of what I’d be getting into, but it was a little overwhelming. I mean, I’m already paranoid about being around people all the time, and now it turns out that people literally can sneak up on you and be hovering over you all the time by being invisible or Apparating at the last second or making themselves look like something else or turning into an animal or something? I don’t need more paranoia in my life, thank you very much.
The course offerings look fascinating, I have to say, and that almost convinced me to attend despite my reservations. But then one of the books—something to do with Magical Creatures, I think—literally tried to eat me, and at that point I just said to myself, “You know what? This is not worth it.” I mean no ill will to those students for whom it is definitely worth it, but I just don’t care to be overstimulated in such a brutal way.
Ms. McGonagall offered to buy me a broomstick as some sort of bribe, but once I figured out that she was not insinuating that my cupboard needed cleaning, I put my foot down even more. Hanging from a broomstick in the middle of the sky? I’m already afraid of heights! How is this safe?? Whose idea was it to put children in midair?
This brings me to my final concern: I was unable to determine what structures you have in place to deter and address bullying. As someone who has dealt with bullying ever since I first got glasses, I am not at all impressed by a school in which students are handed basically free reign over a bunch of magic tricks and then sent off to play games in midair in their free time with minimal supervision and plenty of opportunity for deadly mistakes. I would much rather stay safely in my cupboard under the stairs.
Thanks again for this opportunity, and I wish you the best in the upcoming school year as well as in the upcoming war that Ms. McGonagall seemed so distressed about.