Hello from Harry Potter

From:
Mr. Harry Potter
Aurors Department Head
Magical Laws, Enforcement Division

To:
Headmistress Minerva McGonagall
Hogwarts Academy

Dear Minerva,

When I drop off James and Albus for the new school year, I’m so looking forward to seeing you and delivering the Golden Snitch that I signed for the silent auction. I hope it raises a few galleons toward refurbishing the Sorting Hat, which was looking dodgy even back in the day, when it gave me a sword to kill that basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets. Mad times—but I’m glad I was able to help, in whatever small ways, to save Hogwarts from destruction.

I write, however, on another subject. This fall, James will begin his third year on the Gryffindor quidditch team, but he has yet to start a game. I would never ask you to intercede with the coach, of course, but, as you know, wizarding universities expect to see many extracurricular boxes checked, and James’s only other activity is his work with stained glass. His teachers say he’s turning out cathedral-quality stuff, but we’re told that art achievements alone won’t cut it—even his (unobjective-parent alert!) spectacular depiction of me and my friends rescuing the Philosopher’s Stone.

Let me first acknowledge the obvious: last year, James struggled with his broom-flying. Happily, we have solved that problem. He has been diagnosed with flying-attention deficit—he’s overly distracted by birds, clouds, and whatnot. So, in a fit of inspiration, I contacted Firebolt broom-makers (I confess I played the “H.P.” card), who made James a special broom that gives him a minor electric jolt when his attention wanders. His strides using it this summer have been absolutely phenomenal. However, to ride it in official school games, it looks like he will require a brief letter from you (which I’m happy to compose) to the Quidditch Society, explaining that he really does need this special accommodation.

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Having not played last year, James understandably has developed some anxiety around quidditch, so we’ve had Nobbler, our house elf, certified as an emotional-support elf (you won’t believe how cute his little vest is). On the rarest of occasions—it’s not likely, and almost certainly won’t happen—James may need Nobbler to ride behind him on his broom. And he’ll require the house master to sign off on Nobbler living with him—I believe this might qualify him for a single this year? We don’t want any special treatment, of course, but Nobbler does need to sing James to sleep and we wouldn’t want to disturb any other students.

I hope you’ll forgive a father these requests. More than anyone, I know what a privilege it is for my kids to attend my alma mater. After all, I had to drop out of school to collect the horcruxes and unite the Deathly Hallows before defeating Voldemort. I envy this generation, who are able to enjoy their student years unimpeded. But then a peaceful world in which children can be children was always our shared goal, wasn’t it? It also happens to be the subject of James’s latest stained-glass piece, which, by the way, would look stunning in the Gryffindor common room. We would probably have to crane it in, but that’s for a later discussion.

As an aside, when I see you in September, I’d like to pick your brain about my memoirs. My dream is to use the book proceeds to build a new, fifth house at Hogwarts, to maximize the school’s potential—we currently have to reject too many good (and full-paying) applicants owing to lack of space. I’ve heard people say that the house should be named after me, an absurd idea that I’d strenuously oppose, but I do think “The McGonagall Visitors Center at Potter House” has a lovely ring to it.

Bill Weasley sends his regards. Currently his wife, Fleur, is headmaster at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, and is always joking that I should send our kids there. A laughable notion, given my history with Hogwarts, but I did visit recently and, wow, their new quidditch field is spectacular.

Fondly,

Harry Potter