If you’re reading this...then I’m probably dead...
Just kidding. Thought that would be a dramatic way to start this first entry but I already regret it. My name is Rudolphus Tubb. Mostly people call me Rudolph. Like my Grandfather who you probably haven’t heard of. In fact, you probably haven’t heard of anyone in my family. Because we haven’t done anything noteworthy for the magical community...or any community for that matter.
My mother told me to keep a journal. To document my journey here. For the future or deal with my anxiety or something. I just arrived at the Pigzits School of Witchcraft & Wizardry. Haven’t heard of it? Probably because nobody really likes to acknowledge it. It’s not exactly an honor to go here. It’s like the armpit of magical education. We’re the kids who weren’t good enough to get into the other school you probably know. Or maybe they just didn't know what to do with us. Or maybe our last name is Tubb. Whatever the reason, we’re the rejected witches and wizards.
Nobody famous or infamous ever went here. No chosen ones. No evil wizards ever tried to take over. Nobody ever wrote a seven-book-series chronicling the adventures of...anyone who ever went here. To be completely honest, if anyone ever did...you wouldn’t read it because it would suck.
Everyone in my family went here so I didn’t have much choice. All the Tubbs going back to the foundation of the school hundreds of years ago. And now it’s my turn to leave my mark. Like the rest of my life, I assume it won't be particularly interesting. Just seven years of...eh. But who knows? Anything is possible (I doubt it).
Time to settle in and unpack my trunk. My armadillo just vomited all over the bedspread and my roommate just sat on my wand. Pretty sure it’s broken.
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