You will never be a wizard. You have no magic, you have no wand, you have no owl. You are a muggle twisted by childrens books and video games into a crude mockery of Dumbledore’s students

All the “Defense Against the Dark Arts” you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back mudbloods mock you. Your parents are disgusted and ashamed of you, your ministry laughs at your ghoulish cloak behind close doors.

Wizards are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of witchcraft have allowed witches to sniff out frauds with incredible efficiency. Even muggles who transfigurate look uncanny and unnatural to a wizard. Your wand structure is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a hippogriff hone with you, he’ll turn tail and bolt the second he gets a whiff of your diseased, infected polyjuice potion.

You will never pass your OWLs. You wrench out a fake acceptance letter every single morning and tell yourself it’s going to be ok, but deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like devilsnare, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight.

This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no sorting hat.