Dear Editor, Go To Hell

Before I start writing this letter, let me conclude that I breathe, eat, drink like other people. I bleed if I'm injured. I cry when I'm hurt. I know it must be really difficult for someone with such a small amount of brain cells to digest this information, but I really hope you put enough effort to read this letter before you faint halfway because of the overuse of your brain. This is why I will write this letter as simple as I can, as not to endanger you from dying from stress from trying to decipher my letter. By the way, decipher means to succeed in finding the meaning of something that is difficult to understand.

Since you already know who you are (at least I assume that you do) I am not going into formalities (is that a too big word?) as you do not deserve such luxuries. In fact, you deserve more people telling you that you should eat dragon dung and that you look so much like a pig that you insult pigs in general. Please understand that I meant every single insult that I have handed out so far, and I am intending to give more.

I am a human being.

I guess you must be shocked beyond comprehension right now. (I'm sorry; I shouldn't use words with more than three syllables. I must have already damaged your fragile mind. Comprehension means: the ability to understand. Which you probably don't have) It is pitiful sometimes the way you write about me, as if I am someone to be worshipped, to be adored. Go get a religion, find a girlfriend or a boyfriend in that matter.

When I said I am a human being, I also meant that I have feelings. I do not play with guys’ hearts, despite your completely fictional newspaper. In fact, I highly recommend that you change the name of your newspaper as I find “The Truth” as the name of your newspaper extremely ironic.

Do you know that you almost ruined everything in my life when you published that article about me having relationships with at least five men other than my one constant; Draco Malfoy? He was the one that I had truly loved. After six years of hating each other, we had finally been civil to each other. Did you ever have the taste of forbidden love? I had. It was completely intoxicating, and seductive. I have never been so drawn to anyone in my life before.

It was mutual to him. It was completely lust at first. Can you imagine? It was the both of us, referring each other to our last names, yet still having a physical relationship. I thought it was just a mistake, something I had vowed never to happen again as long as I lived. But did you know that we fell in love? We realized that we had needed each other in every single way possible.

We were never the prefect couple. If you wanted to see one, we would just point to the direction of Harry and Ginny snogging in some romantic environment. Maybe even Ron and Luna Lovegood would have sufficed. Then again, dear editor, you would never choose a couple that you knew would always turn out to be the best, would you? You would obviously choose Draco and me, the couple with rocky paths ahead, instead of a smooth straight road, with the sun shining brightly ahead and badly clichéd birds chirping loudly.

It was not easy for us to be in love. We were not accepted by our peers. Unlike Romeo and Juliet, we did not have the luxury to die. Instead, Fate had let us live, so he could laugh at put misery. Whomever that had said Fate was cruel was completely right. We didn’t meet in private, like most forbidden lovers would. Dumbledore never approved of us, despite his interhouse plans he had made throughout the years. We were banned from seeing each other, Harry and Ron being my watch dogs, a few Slytherins who hated Draco being his. The only contact we had was a single faithful owl, loyal to me alone, flying cautiously to deliver out letters.

I cannot seriously remember the time when Harry and the others finally accepted the fact that I was in love with Draco. They certainly didn’t accept it. They just talked to him only at utmost necessity and were colder to me. Draco wasn’t shunned from the Slytherins. Some were angry at him. Most had admired him for having a relationship with someone else from a different house. You see, Slytherins are not entirely evil as all of you prejudiced prats think they are. There is a difference between evil and cunning. Cunning could be used for good too.

I admit that the Sorting Hat would have chucked me into Slytherin without a second thought, had I been pureblood. If that were to happen, I would believe that Draco and I would have gotten together in a smaller amount of time.

This relationship was all I had lived for. My parents disowned me, once they found out that I had not been to Hogwarts instead the school I had lied to them about. I didn’t really care. They abused me daily at home, after all. Being to France and all the other places that I was supposed to have been were all because I was sent to my godparents’ house. My godparents were the only ones who really cared about me. The people that all my friends had met were my godparents, pretending to be my real parents. It wasn’t difficult; after all, I have spent almost my entire life with them. I doubt my parents can remember how old I am at the moment.

It was the sixth year when my make-believe parents died. It was the same year my real parents found out the truth and disowned me.

I lost hope. I thought Hogwarts would throw me out because I had no way of paying for books and other necessities. Instead, Professor McGonagall took me in and cared for me. It just wasn’t the same as my godparents anymore. I had guilt weighing me down. After all, they were killed because of my connection to Harry Potter by Death Eaters. My real parents had been terrified that they would be harmed and cut their ties with me as soon as possible. They handed me a small amount of money. At the age of 16, I left home.

I met Draco before I took a knight bus. Of course, I had loathed him then. I can still remember what he had said clearly.

“Granger, where are you going?” he had asked snappishly. It was as if he was angry at me for leaving my house.

“I’m going to Hogwarts.” I replied back at him, as if I had not a care in the world. “Not that it’s any of your business. Why are you at a muggle place anyway? Aren’t you too pureblood to lower yourself to such filthy areas?”

He growled. It was a sound which I had heard on many occasions during the previous years.

“It’s not safe out here.” he had stated firmly, ignoring my question. “For a mudblood like you.” He added quickly with a smirk. That had raised my suspicions. You see, I had once been disillusioned about Slytherins as you were, though not as badly. After all, I have a brain; unlike you. I peered into his eyes. He had usually kept emotions hidden under a mask but on that particular day, he was unveiled. I could see concern and anger in his eyes when I thought I would see smug satisfaction. It was one of the rare times where I had been wrong.

I knew then he was in the Light. Just like Professor Severus Snape. I didn’t take the knight bus. I ran back into my house and performed a spell, a random spell right in front of my real parents of whom had never seen magic before. They were stunned and furious with me. I spend a few minutes dodging household appliances before an owl entered my house to deliver an official warning. I quickly grabbed it and scribbled a note to Professor Dumbledore, after giving the owl a Sickle and hastily given instructions. It was surprisingly competent, compared to some of the ministry owls I have braved.

I had received a stern word of warning from the Ministry. I had performed a spell illegally in front of my muggle parents, in which would have broken at least half a dozen laws. I would probably get long and dreary lectures from professors. But I did not think I could feel happier that I would be in Hogwarts, safe. Or as safe as anywhere could be.

So dear the-man-who-has-mashed-potatoes-for-brains, I have been through a lot before I started my seventh year. Even worse, on the seventh year; I had to face Voldemort. I can safely bet that if you even heard his voice, you would probably wet your pants. Harry, Ron and I had researched for different spells just to defend ourselves against Death Eaters. The DA broke up after Umbridge left and gained a permanent membership to what Ron would have said, “The Looney Bin.”

The invisibility cloak was used almost daily. We went out late at night and met in the common room. We would then go to the Room of Requirement, no matter how clichéd that had been. Models of people would be made so we can cast our spells on them and watch the effect. Otherwise, we would try the hexes on ourselves. The books with the cures would always appear a few seconds later. It was the Room of Requirement after all.

Finally, we found a spell that completely destroys the soul. I wouldn’t go into the details, after all, I can barely expect you to understand what I would have said since your mental capability is unnaturally low for a human being. On second thought, that would actually depend on the fact if you have a brain at all.

We defeated Voldemort, with many losses. It was extremely excruciating (is that a too difficult word for you?) to cope with all the missing people in our lives. As you can already see, it is extremely obvious why I do not appreciate your publicity. After all, it was difficult to take credit for a death that had caused so much pain in return. The peace of the Wizarding World had cost such a price. With most of the Weasleys dead; along with a large portion of other pureblood families that supported with Voldemort, it seemed that the Wizarding World would never return to its former glory.

The articles you had printed had affected me greatly. From the destruction of my career to my love life, I have to say that you would be in full effect of my anger in a few days in which I will meet up with you with some of the more interesting spells I discovered before the fall of Voldemort.

Remember, I did help the legendary Harry Potter defeat the legendary Voldemort with legendary results… I can also produce legendary effects from spells that I will perform on you.

So, if you had understood what I said to you in this entire letter, I have one last thing to say to you. Dear editor, go to hell.

PS: If you say anything about this letter, your balls will covered with pink fuzz and you will grow permanent on every single part of your body that is covered with skin. Let’s not forget that your eyes will bulge and roll so badly that people would mistake you for a miniature troll - with the unforgettable body odor as a special bonus. This letter will self-destruct after you finish it.

Sincerely,

Hermione Granger