Dear Diary,
So, Hogwarts. Everyone knows it, right? The big fancy magic school where Orphan Number 997 went and killed the guy with no nose. Seriously, why doesn’t he have a nose? Like, what happened there? Did Quirrell trip and flatten it or what? Ugh. Anyway, Hogwarts gets all the attention because it’s where all the “chosen ones” go, and that’s what the Ministry cares about. But guess what? Not every kid in the Wizarding World goes to Hogwarts. Nope. The rest of us? We get dumped into public schools. And let me tell you, the state of those schools is… well, let’s just say Hogwarts doesn’t have to worry about competition.
Take my school, Hanphil, for example. Case in point: today.
So there I was, minding my own business, writing in you (hi), when two pervy losers decided it’d be fun to try and magically lift my skirt. Like, seriously? One of them even had the nerve to say he was “looking for a horcrux.” Gross. So I flicked my wand and hit one of them with an Engorgio spell—right in the heart. Literally turned the creep into a giant, pulsating heart. His little buddy started freaking out, claiming he “voted for Kamala” like that was going to save him. Idiot. Shrunk him down to nothingness. Problem solved.
Anyway, after that whole mess, I headed to class. Late, of course. Miss Jenjinker gave me her usual “disappointed” look and asked why I was late. I told her a teacher stopped me. She asked which one. I may have said “Mr. Yourhusbandisgay.” She didn’t think it was funny. Detention. Whatever. She’s so bitter about her divorce it practically seeps into her coffee.
Sat down next to Jerry and Walt. Jerry was boring, as usual, and Walt was carving another dick into the desk. He calls it “art.” I call it vandalism, but hey, we all need hobbies, right?
Jerry’s such a bore. He tries, though. He even brought up the time we got attacked by the Angry Molesting Tree. It was not funny. I still have a splinter… you know where. Walt said his brain gave him a vagina for ten seconds just to empathize. He’s weird like that.
And then there’s Gertrude Pafuk. Ugh, that girl. She’s like a blonde mosquito—buzzing around, making everything worse. She’s rich, annoying, and has two minions, Jenny and Easel, who follow her everywhere. She tattled on us to Jenjinker today for talking during class. Of course, Jenny backed her up, and Easel was too busy debating whether or not they’re into twinks. Gertrude had this whole “good hot men” vs. “bad twinks” card system ready to go. Who does that?
Anyway, I told her to die a painful death, and she responded with baby talk about dirty diapers. I hate her so much.
Oh, and then there was this new guy in class today. Keele something. He sits at the back, has a heart tattoo, and apparently no tolerance for bullshit. Out of nowhere, he just went off on everyone. Told us all to act more mature and stop being idiots. Even Jenjinker agreed with him. It was… kind of hot? Not sure. The romantic music in my head started playing for a second until—ouch—that stupid splinter reminded me it’s still there.
Debra’s Diary
Date: Still That Same Long Day
Dear Diary,
PE. Or as Professor Bankooker calls it, “Physical Endurance: A Lesson in Magical Superiority.” I swear, that guy hates everything. Muggles, life, joy—his list of dislikes probably includes puppies and sunshine. Anyway, today he was in rare form, spitting and popping his eyes as he ranted about how “true wizards” need to train their bodies as well as their magic to keep the bloodline strong or whatever. Dude really needs a vacation.
We were doing broom drills, which is PE code for “fly around like idiots while trying not to die.” Bankooker didn’t care. He was too busy yelling at a Hufflepuff who tripped over his own shoelaces. Typical day.
Then there was Keele. He was standing by himself, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. I figured this was my chance. Something about him just… intrigues me. So I walked over.
“Hey, Keele, right?” I said, casually leaning on my broomstick like I wasn’t overthinking every word.
He glanced at me. “Yeah.”
“Cool. I’m Debra. You new here?”
He nodded but didn’t say anything else. Great conversationalist.
“You’re, uh, really good at shutting people up. That thing you did in class earlier? Iconic.”
That got a smirk out of him. “Thanks. Someone had to say it.”
And then, because I can’t leave well enough alone, I asked, “So what’s your deal? You transfer from Hogwarts or something?”
Keele hesitated, then shrugged. “Nah. I’m… a Muggle.”
Wait. A Muggle? In Hanphil? That made zero sense. This school is, like, cartoonishly racist towards Muggles. Even my best friends Jerry and Walt—who I love—aren’t exactly progressive. So how was Keele here?
“Wait, what?” I said, forgetting to play it cool.
“Yeah,” he replied, casually spinning his broomstick like it was a baseball bat. “Don’t ask me how I got in. Some Ministry program or something. They want to see if Muggles can ‘integrate.’” He rolled his eyes. “Spoiler: we can’t.”
I was about to ask more, but before I could, Millis Willis—our star Quidditch player—tried to show off with a broom trick. It did not go well. One second, he was doing loop-de-loops. The next, he hit himself square in the nuts with his broomstick. Hard.
“Sweet Merlin!” Millis wailed, clutching himself as he fell to the ground.
Everyone burst out laughing—except for Bankooker, who looked like he wanted to Avada Kedavra himself. “Willis, get to Madam Hera’s office! And the rest of you—stop cackling like idiots and get back to practice!”
Millis hobbled off, and Jerry turned to me, grinning. “You know, I was thinking about trying out for Quidditch.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You? On a broom?”
“Yeah, why not? I’ve got great hand-eye coordination.”
“Jerry,” Walt said, “you tripped over your own wand yesterday.”
“That was a one-time thing!” Jerry protested. “Besides, I could totally make Keeper. All you have to do is sit in one spot and block stuff. Easy.”
“Or you could just admit you want to wear the fancy robes and impress girls,” I teased.
He turned bright red. “That’s… not the only reason.”
Walt smirked. “Yeah, the other reason is getting hit in the nuts like Millis.”
Jerry groaned, and I couldn’t help but laugh. Keele, meanwhile, stayed quiet, watching the chaos like an outsider looking in. I wanted to ask more about the whole “Muggle in a racist wizard school” thing, but Professor Bankooker barked at us to mount our brooms, and I had to let it go. For now.
But seriously, Diary, what’s his deal?
More soon,
Debra