11 and a Half Reasons I Hate Being A Muggle

LiveLongAndProsper really, really wants to be a wizard. Join the club, dude.—Sparkitors

Sure, I really dislike bubble wrap and singing the alphabet backwards, but today, I’ve realized what bothers me most: my mugglehood. You see, I happen to love the Harry Potter series even more than I love my goldfish—no offense, Swimmy—so it breaks my heart that I can never be included in a world where “magic is might.” Trust me, Argus Filch, I feel your pain. So, here you go. The top 11 and a half reasons why I hate being a muggle.

1. No Hogwarts letter when I turned eleven was quite possibly the worst moment of my existence. And that includes the time I stuck a fork in the toaster, passed out at Disney World, and accidentally told my crush that he had a nice tongue.

2. Not getting to use magical transportation is just plain lame. No portkeys, magic carpets, wagons drawn by Thestrals, enchanted boats, Hippogriff rides, hitchhiking on dragons, apparition, floo powder,  enchanted motorbike, broom adventures, or unexpected fun times on the knight bus. True, being a muggle makes it easier to pass your driving test, but who needs a car when, by Merlin’s beard, you could be using magical ways to travel?

3. Never getting to glimpse the real Hogwarts. Ever. Please excuse me while I go and cry. Hogwarts has always been my favorite part of the Potterverse, and well, telling me I can’t go is like telling Harry he can’t play quidditch in book five, which is a bad thing to do. Don’t do that. Harry and I will have our revenge. Alright Harry, we’re going to need a pickle, 300 yards of pink twine, 17 toads, some juice (hey, revenge makes me thirsty!) and thirteen Eskimos. Easy peasy.

4. Here’s the most annoying to me: not being able to cast spells. I mean, if my replica wand really worked, I would so school Ron and Voldermort. As Flitwick says, just “swish and flick.” Now why can’t you get this spell down, Ron? Honestly, I’d master it faster than you can say, “Dumbledore-is-the-best-headmaster-that-Hogwarts-has-ever-had-and-will-ever-have!” And I can say that pretty darn quickly, can’t you?

5. I also really despise having to befriend non-magical children. It’s bad enough to be a muggle with a muggle family and muggle neighbors and muggle teachers and muggle peers. Can you tell I use muggle as a degrading term? Good, if you said yes, you win this lovely invisible sparkle-covered lamp. Yes, Ginny tried to dress up. Anywho, there are no wizarding adolescents at my school, so I have to be friends with muggles. As if being a muggle wasn’t bad enough, now I have to suffer along with other non-magic folk while we drive our non-magic cars and wave our non-magic fake wands.

6. My school, being as uninformed as it is, does not allow magical pets to come to school with their owners. When I tried to bring my owl with me on the first day of school, the vice principal told me that they did not accept toads, newts, owls, rats or cats. Well, you can imagine my response. In fact, you have probably been in similar situations, such as the time when you were not allowed to bring your dragon, a harmless Norwegian Ridgeback, to the performance of Harry Potter on Ice. The injustice in the world is shocking.

7. No wonderful, magical, happiness-filled trip when buying school supplies. Trust me, Mr. Weasley, office supply stores are a lot less enjoyable then Diagon Alley. It’d be like expecting an ice cream maker for your birthday and getting a bar of soap instead. Without a bow. That was another traumatic incident of my youth, thanks to Uncle Frank. Trust me, Uncle Frank and Arthur Weasley; Diagon Alley is just a plethora of amazingness. I mean, when you dress up in your wizarding robes in Staples, people tend to avoid you. Another reason I need Diagon Alley. As soon as possible, please.

8. No fun inanimate objects like magical newspapers or broomsticks. My sister tried to console me by telling me that her college has a quidditch team, but I told her to save her breath. I mean, Siriusly. Thanks, but no thanks. And the whole newspaper thing really bums me out. Reading the paper is just no fun with a mini-Fudge making a fool of himself on the front page. ‘Nuff said there.

10. No Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. I’m still in mourning. No extendable ears, edible Dark Marks, punching telescopes, love potions, portable swamps, Sniving Snackboxes, trick wands, fireworks or defense products. We muggles will never get to see the day when Zonko’s sells out to the Weasleys. It really is a shame. I know a few Dudley-like characters that could do with some tongue toffees, if you know what I mean.

11. Last and certainly not least, my mother will simply not make magical food. Appalling, right? We may not have any house elves around to help us out, but could someone just pretty-please with sugar on top bake me a floating Snitch Cake? Someone call Molly Weasley, because this poor child is just undernourished without her daily butterbeer, Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor beans, and such other magical substances. I’d give all the Twinkies in America just to lay my hands on a Hogwarts feast, so you bet your buttons I’m still annoyed that this is another one of my crushed dreams. Of course, I’ve also dreamed of swimming in jelly and a cat doing my homework.

11 & ½. A small complaint that I’ve filed many a time, just one tiny thing. Why can I not reach the Quickspell headquarters? Honestly… Some people just don’t understand the concept of, “I’m a muggle and I need help now!”

We are now officially bummed about being Muggles. Do you have the Muggle blues too? Sing 'em too us in the comments!

Related post: Surviving Life as a Muggle