A letter to Santa

A ministry of magic official from the general owl post office was sorting the mail at a local muggle post office when he came across this letter.

Santa Claus
North Pole

Hermione Granger

Dear Santa Claus,
Mom wants me to write to you because she says even though you are not mentioned in any wizarding book I should believe in you. I mean an old man with a long beard on a rain deer sleigh sounds like Aberforth got confounded and didn’t use a disillusionment charm. But my parents believed in you growing up and you were their favourite part about Christmas(I did too before I started at Hogwarts). Though I think dad’s best part is egg nog, he just doesn’t want to argue with mom.

I am a witch and studied at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry. And to be honest I am appalled at the leniency the ministry officials have shown in dealing with you(if in fact you exist) jingling on that sleigh in plain sight. And to think harry and Ron got into so much trouble over a flying car.

But I do like all the stories about you. Did the ministry ask you to use the floo network? Is that why you are always spotted near the fireplaces?

The muggle kids ask you for presents each year. Mom and dad get me wonderful ones (yes I know it’s not you). And after all I have said i can imagine you think this letter is worse than a howler. You should know Ron (I guess you can call him my boyfriend, we havn’t made it official yet) never forgets to remind me of how I can be a know-it-all and Luna(a dreamy witch who believes in crumpled horn snorkacks) thinks I can be narrow minded. But I don’t hate you, I would rather like to believe you exist (but Bathilda not mentioning you in A History of Magic seems a bit odd don’t you think?)

I will tell you what I wish for this Christmas. Maybe you get me a present even if it is only to prove I am wrong (because i would sooner wear dirigible plum earrings than picture you dashing through the snow).
Freedom for house elves, they still seem to be resisting my efforts to free them (don’t think you can help with that though)
An early edition of hogwarts a history.
A friend for crookshanks (with scabbers gone he really has no one to play with)
A two-way-mirror (Ron still shouts into the receiver and besides the village telephone is not very practical for a late night conversation)

So I hope you get this. And happy Christmas!


PS I am sending this by muggle post because I know the Wizards sort out mail before it reaches the muggle postoffice; and also I don’t want to send Pig on a wild hippogriff chase.


The limbo called 23

Well obviously this my kind of 23.

Tea is what you love in the morning but that occasional coffee helps you get over nasty hangovers.

You are will-spill/drop-anything-you-are-holding-when-you-see-an-attractive-guy kind of awkward.

You guffaw or groan and roll eyes every time people talk of love. While secretly wishing you had a fairy godmother.

You have Beethoven on the gramophone and a glass of wine kind of evenings. But the ones you love most are when you dance in your pajamas, singing(in a voice that puts the coyotes to shame) into your hairbrush.

You binge watch tv series when you are depressed (that is most of the time) and knit cat clothes. But when you are happy they will find you at the local bar trying to drown yourself in alcohol.

People you grew up with have spouses-kids-RingsThatWillPutSauronToShame. You have scrabble with the computer and a basement bedroom.

Well sometimes you go and order that Long Island and do the walk of shame. But more often than not weekends are reading Shakespeare to your cat.

High school stereotypes don’t apply anymore. You were the geek-with-glasses-and-ugly-sweaters now you are called a sociopath (suck it miss-prom-queen-who-is-with-her-fifth-husband-at-tiffanys). Yeah….No, high school never ends soccer mom/ miss pretty in Prada will always be the Bellatrix Lestrange to your Hermione.

You know you will end up socialising with balding men in tweed suits and women who make you wish feminism never happened.

And the closest thing to sex is watching rat EEGs while they are at it. But there is that thesis on a gene in the drosophila fly that controls its desire to copulate (does that counts as foreplay?)

Twenty three is when you unravel the mysteries of life. It is that time when you finally accept that there are no mermaids or Loch Ness monsters or Yetis. You will never find Asgard and Thor will never find you. You know the mysteries are those of loneliness, love, companionship, loss and what helps you unravel all that. You gain true wisdom and enlightenment from those moments with your head in a toilet seat because you still can’t hold your drink. That is what 23 is all about.


A medical student

You know you are a med student when,

When you see patients that move and talk, you are dreaming, or your text book somehow turned into Tom Riddle’s diary.

There are some who say they don’t have time for serious relationships. But they secretly loathe their colleagues who go through more relationships than all the years of med school.

You are the only people who are knee deep in debt before you get your first paycheck.

When you sing in the bathroom more often than not it is some silly mnemonic that’s stuck in your head.

You have been through severe depression at least once during all those years in med school.

If medicine were a religion, you would be a fanatic.

You have watched all the tv medical shows ever aired(yes including days of our lives) rolled your eyes at the ridiculous notion of hot doctors, tried figuring out the cases(you are either clueless or wrong!).

Doctors by Erich Segal is not just a book. It is your life.

If you have read ‘the doctor on the boil/ doctor in the nude/ doctor on the brain or any other doctor book by Richard Gordon, you what I am talking about when I say I have never laughed harder!

You can’t remember the last time you were out partying on a friday night. And even if you pretend like you have a life(deep down inside you know you are a nerd, now and evermore)

Your worst nightmare is graduating and having to treat real patients. That said, you want to get out of med school as desperately as you wanted to get in!