Dear Professor Dumbledore...
by Juliette

A/N: I DID THE CHALLENGE!!!! HERE IT IS: (ok i'll stop typing in capitals).

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

Let me tell you, itís not easy being the Hogwarts Express. First off, I have to deal with this slight problem that my platform DOESNíT EXIST. Children think it is great fun passing through a barrier to platform 9 ĺ, 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 Iíd deal. But, of course itís NOT. I have to deal with children. You know, those sticky fingered creatures. Well, if this werenít bad enough, these children have WANDS. Of course, they havenít 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 donít mean kittens and puppies; I mean owls and rats. Thereís this one toad thatís crept into ALL my little private corners. If I could talk, Iíd tell its owner that it HATE HIM. I canít even talk, and itís THAT OBVIOUS.

Whatís worse than children: TEENAGERS. First off, their hormones are RAGING. My compartments have seen more snogging than some London movie theaters. When teenagers arenít fooling around with each other, theyíre fooling around with their wands. Donít they know the rules, NO MAGIC ON THE TRAIN!

No one realizes that Iím a magical train. What would they think on September 1st if they arrived on platform 9 ĺ and I werenít there? No Hogwarts Express means no silly magic school. Why donít I just quit? Well, trust me I would have YEARS ago, though I canít. 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 Ė and here I am. I know it makes NO sense, but thatís 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 donít 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 itís contents), but I remember a certain Albus Dumbledore from his own Hogwarts days. I also remember a certain Daisy Plumage. Ring any bells? No? WellÖ let me remind you: Prefectís compartment, end of sixth year. Do you remember when she stood up and pointed to the right side of her head and said, ďI am not left brained!Ē Anyway, I think you get the pointÖ

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: OK?? Tell me what you think, I tried to think of it as more of a satire than a METMA fic since I've never written 1 and I was scared it was going to suck.

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