The following is a quick letter to the wizards behind the housing lottery. It is modeled after the poem "Hap" by Thomas Hardy.
Dear Housing Wizards,
I realize that nobody else knows you exist, and that you are therefore unaccustomed to direct address over the interwebs, but I feel that I should inform you that I have found out your secret. In fact, I know a lot about you. I know, for instance, that you are less powerful than the wizards who control the distribution of registration appointments, but more powerful than those who decide when there's construction on the 1, 2, and 3. I know that, of the three of you, two of you were in Slytherin and one attended Princeton. I know you also control the lotteries for fireside chats and guest lectures, and I know that your short-lived alt-rock band was called Can't Hartley Wait.
