I went to Hogwarts. I haven't read or watched any Harry Potter anything, so I'm sure everything that happened is shockingly inaccurate, but eh.
An instructor put me in a magic chair and told me it was gonna make me pass a series of tests to determine my base ability. There were 25. I don't remember most of them, only the one where I had to trick a bespectacled goat into falling asleep, and another one where I had to defeat a living cake that breathed poison gas. I'm not sure how I managed the goat one, but for the cake I snuck around it and tore it apart with a couple forks.
Long story short I passed all the tests, which blew the instructor's mind. Turns out there were five categories with five tests each, and acing one category was worth one point. The instructor tells me the current principal of the school has 3 points, and that the people who hate the principal have two points and atttempt the magic chair every month to try and get to 3. With my five points I should by right be promoted over everyone's head and chances are no one would be skilled enough to challenge my position in my lifetime.
"But I don't know any magic. How could I be the principal of a magic school?" The instructor agrees that it's a problem. He proposes to put me in remedial magic class; I got nothing better to do, so I accept. Besides, once I can prove I can cast a spell or two I'll probably get to run the place, so why not?
Remedial magic classes happen in a bizarre, narrow classroom. From side to side it's literally wall, desk, desk, desk, aisle, wall. It's full of dumb kids. By the time the teacher starts talking I feel like going to that school at all was a huge mistake, and I wake up.