Hogwarts, Slytherin Common Room
12 September 1991

Dear Father,

          I received the package with the tie clip this morning. Tell Mother I said thanks. But why didn't she give it to me before I left? Because of the crest on it? She surely didn't doubt I would be sorted in Slytherin, did she? The Sorting Hat didn't waste any time deciding on my House. I only managed to hear it say something like, "My, my," before it yelled, "Slytherin!"

          I'm not all that impressed with Hogwarts. It was comical to see the reactions of the Mudbloods when they entered the castle. I thought their jaws would fall off, the way they were gaping. Although Vincent was no better. You would think he's never seen an enchanted ceiling before. I had to step on his toe so he would stop embarrassing me.

          You are right about the Headmaster, Father. Not that I doubted you. It's a shock to see it with my own eyes. He is completely deranged. Just before dinner he rose to his feet to make a speech, but did nothing but babble some nonsensical words. It was so bizarre that some of the other students thought it was a joke. To me, it was clear that the man is senile. Really, I can't understand why he's still on the job. He has not only accepted all sort of riffraff among the students, but hired some of the most pathetic creatures to be our teachers too.

          The Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher faints in fear of his own shadow. The Charms teacher needs to stand on a pile of books to look over his own desk. The Herbology teacher keeps boring us all to death with her lectures on fungi, instead of showing us anything interesting. The History of Magic teacher has actually managed to bore himself to death. The Transfiguration teacher (the Head of Gryffindor) is a hag, taking points from us Slytherins for the smallest slip. The worst is by far the flying instructor. She has actually said I was holding my broomstick wrong. What does she know? Thankfully, we have Professor Snape. He clearly knows his subject, and he can tell the difference between real wizards and clueless wand-wavers. He puts the rabble in its place too.

          I have met Harry Potter, of course. In fact, I had seen him before at Madam Malkin's, only I didn't recognise him then. I tried to be nice to him, like you told me. But the years living among Muggles have turned him into a rude, pitiful goon. He refused to take my hand when I offered it. He preferred to make friends with one of the Weasleys and with Hogwarts' gamekeeper. I tried to warn him of the big mistake he was making, choosing that kind of scum for friends. But he wouldn't listen. He was very aggressive, and Weasley even let out his pet on Gregory.

          I really don't see what good being friends with that kind of person would bring me, Father. Besides, it's not like he'll be here for long. The idiot was caught flying a broomstick without permission, only minutes after the instructor had said that anyone doing so would be expelled. He's with the Head of his House now, and will probably be packing tonight. I must say, he won't be missed.

          The Quidditch games won't start before November. The rule forbidding first-years to play is ridiculous. I certainly have more experience on a broom than the Mudbloods that are allowed to play.

          Your son,

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written by Morgan D.
February 20th, 2004

The characters and universe of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling and her associates, such as Bloomsbury, Scholastic Books, Warner Bros and Merlin-knows-who-else. The purpose of this piece of fanfiction is strictly entertainment, and its author gets no financial profit from it.