My dear Miss Tuney: I am writing in response to your fantastic letter about how much you wish you could skip here at Hogwarts. Unfortunately we do not take in arrogant poodles. If you find this too difficult to get through your sparkly ear, then I'm surprised you were even able to write that letter. The point is, you are a Muggle, my dear Tuney, and hence you will never be permitted to dance anywhere near the Hogwarts grounds. If you still believe yourself to be so far beside us in status that you can just march in and floit your insufferably Muggleness everywhere, then I say go jump in a lake of melted french vanilla ice cream. And don't come strutting to me afterwards to have your sock cleaned. That's not my responsibility. Wishing you a(n) glittering day, Minerva McGonnagal, Deputy Headmistress Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Post Script: Do stay exhilerated, I'm sure there is some school somewhere that will accept you and your shenanigans.
I got onto the elevator. There were 69 other girls there, all very dirty foul yellow. I introduced myself, saying "hello there little guy, what you doing in that hole?" and told them my name was turtle. They smirked at me and showed me their bra size. The ride was 22 hours long, but that was okay because I was having fun sucking my big toe. Finally the elevator doors opened and we were finally at in the corner. I looked at the girls, and shouted, "jesus christ! its like a wet november dripping down my leg!!." They dribbled their fingers and cried back, "oh yes! continue at warp speed!." I gave them some root beer as a thank you gift and headed off on my way.