What it’s like to be accepted into the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
When I set fire to my acceptance letter from Harvard, my parents wanted to ship me off to a psychiatric care facility. Little they know…
Harvard to me was like being President of tiny country; Being accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was like being the President of freakin’ planet.
I spent the entire day hugging my owl and thinking about which frat the magical talking hat was going to allow me to join.
I wanted to be a part of Gryffindor; but as the magical hat would proclaim, I was better suited for Hufflepuff.
I guess it was part of the deal and I had to adjust, pot smoking and beer chugging was part of the Hufflepuff rituals if one was to truly mingle with the Puff crowd; which is what the cool kids called us.
In the Hogwarts crowd, we were the outsiders — nobody cared too much about the Puff Crowd.
We were seen as the nefarious characters always causing menace on campus.
I remember on our first day we walked around with our wands inside our robes pretending they were our penises; swinging them left to right and then right to left.
We got into a bit of trouble for that and Professor Dumbledore had our House raided by the Dementors.
It was truly a sad day.
But the most devastating of all was when I learnt that my Patronus was a butterfly; the other wizards gave me a tough time for that and to this day I find myself shivering at the sight of a butterfly — as its a reminder of not only my failures but just how different my life turned out to be after I failed to graduate.
I am as a Hedge-Fund manager now, and I know nothing I ever accomplish within the wonderful world of Capitalism will ever amount to the great Wizard I could’ve gone on to become — had it not been for all the foul-play and debauchery.
The Hedge-Fund is owned by my parents; who fail to even acknowledge that I ever went to the esteemed Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Instead, they tell their friends I graduated from a very esteemed university — one very similar to Harvard.
As I observe the utter disdain in their eyes as a reminder to that day, way back when, had I not chosen to burn down the acceptance letter to attend Harvard.
Some times I wish I could just whip out my wand and shout “Expecto Patronum!” — only to reminded once again, that my lousy Patronus is a fucking Butterfly.