My life has always been dreadful. When I was a baby my parents were murdered by the world’s most notorious thief, Viktor Ravlom, during the robbery of our home. He tried to kill me too, but I sent him packing when I happened to make a hefty deposit in the crib right before he could pull the trigger, which authorities suspect may be his only weakness. I was the first and only survivor of one of Viktor’s raids, so they called me “The boy who deuced,” and I’m positive my origin story means I’m going to be a wizard anytime now.

I was adopted by my wicked aunt and uncle, I sleep in the cupboard under the stairs, and when I get overly emotional, weird things happen. Yesterday we visited the zoo and my mean cousin Plem kept poking the glass at the snake exhibit. I desperately wanted the yellow boa inside to be freed and then suddenly, the glass shattered. The reptile escaped, causing my cousin to wet himself. It turned out that a loose orangutan jacked up on Red Bull had hurled a 45-pound rock at the enclosure, though I’m pretty sure that was all me, and all magic.

I spent every day for the next month with my new wizard mentor as he asked me questions that I answered with my own.

As the snake was leaving, I shouted, “Hey, you should hurt my dumb cousin!” The boa turned to look at me in recognition and made straight for him at lightning speed. It lunged into the air and knocked Plem on his ass as it took down the selfsame ape. I could’ve sworn I heard the snake say “Thanksss” right as a zoo staff member slipped in Plem’s urine trying to help him up. You know, just like in the movie.

Weeks later we received hundreds of letters in the mail. They were all addressed to my uncle, though I suspect it was a ploy by the wizarding community to prevent my family from knowing my true identity. They were stamped with phrases like “BILLS OVERDUE,” “FORECLOSURE NOTIFICATION,” and “BANKRUPTCY IMMINENT.” Of course, the messages were mystery magic anagrams, and, when solved, become, “BEE DOLL VIRUS,” “I AFROS ELECTROCUTION INFO,” and “BEATNIK CRIMP MUM INN.” The first two are definitely spells and the last one just has to be a wizard hostel.

The postage wouldn’t stop coming and my uncle moved us into a motel, but the wizarding world still found me. To escape, he forced us onto a boat and we began staying in a shanty on a remote island. At midnight on my eleventh birthday, a giant of a man burst through the door and took my aunt and uncle away in handcuffs. He claimed to be an FBI agent who came to save me from “nearly a decade of abuse reported by concerned neighbors,” though I know in my heart he was summoned to help me figure out how to be a wizard, but we both knew he couldn’t say that out loud. He did cry a little, though.

I spent every day for the next month with my new wizard mentor as he asked me questions that I answered with my own. How long had I been forced to live in the cupboard? When do I get to visit the goblin bank to see my inheritance? In what ways was I physically and emotionally abused? Do you think my wand will be similar to Ravlom’s wand? Was I forced to complete hard manual labor? Which house do you think I’ll get sorted in? Will you sign this document stating you need psychiatric treatment? Yes, but only if you buy me an owl.

He ended up getting me a toy owl, which I’m sure will turn into a real one any day now, considering I’M AT WIZARDING SCHOOL!

It’s amazing, truly the stuff of dreams. We’re in a huge castle that’s far, far away from regular, boring humans. There’s even a barb fire fence to keep them out. All of my fellow wizards and witches wear traditional robes that they call “patient gowns” and each day we’re given supplements that enhance our powers. They look like regular people pills but Professor Nurse Kaminski says even wizards have to take their magic vitamins! Now that’s a parallel I didn’t see coming.

One day I took too much medicine because I wanted more magical powers, then I blacked out. When I woke up I was told that I had broken one of my professor’s arms and bit off a fellow student’s ear. I felt awful, though it did mean that pills were really doing their job. However, my actions under the influence of incredible magic made me worried I was heading down a path of darkness – that is – until they rewarded me!

My prize was an extended stay in the magical meditation chamber – a big, white room with soft walls and flooring. This time, they gave me a new set of robes called a “straitjacket,” which they reserve for only the most special wizards. Plus, the face mask makes me feel like a magic samurai. There, in the room, I began to focus my energy to prepare for the return of Ravlom. I know he’s coming back for me and for everyone, but they don’t believe me yet, even though they all know I’m “The boy who deuced” and should trust me inherently. To be fair, Harry had a similar problem, at least initially.

Either way, one day Ravlom will return, and I’ll be ready. Just to be sure everyone else is, I’m writing about it on the wall with my own poop.

They’ll have to believe me then!