You're A Wizard, Cornelius
Many of my readers might be shocked to learn this, but the first five years of my magical education were not spent at Hogwarts like most of my fellow Witches and Wizards in The United Kingdom have, but The Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry instead. Some of my nastier opponents and muckrakers have claimed that this fact is indicative of an alleged lack of British pride, when the truth is anything but. At the end of the day, I love my country, even if they don't always feel the same fondness for me.
As Minister of Magic, you have to serve as the representative of your entire government, and that entails International Magical Cooperation. This includes meeting with all the individual members of The International Confederation of Wizards to resolve disputes between one another's country (while I remain on good terms with Representative Wiseau I still maintain that "Spoon Incident" was entirely his own fault) or attending The Quidditch World Cup (alternatively pretending to be happy or upset for your fellow Ministers depending on how the game goes). And that's only the overseas responsibilities that came with my position, the homeland issues were a nightmare!
Thank goodness I tended to delegate authority well as Minister, otherwise I would have crashed and burned rather quickly. As a matter of fact, that's my best advice to anyone aspiring to take on the responsibility of Minister. That, and it is important to listen to your people when they're telling you repeatedly to perhaps look into the possibility that a certain snake-faced supervillain is back, but that's a lesson for later.
Anyway, back to my schooling. There were two reasons why I attended Ilvermorny rather than Hogwarts at first. Firstly, my Father felt the way the school was being run was unsatisfactory. I don't remember all of the specifics, but it had something to do with Professor Dippet's tendency to "spare the rod, spoil the child," whatever that means. Secondly, The Dark Lord was on the move, and according to the June, 1936 edition of The Daily Prophet, was last sighted near Dufftown, Moray.
It must seem impossible for my younger audience to fathom, but before Voldemort's time there was another Dark Wizard who terrified us all, and his name was Gellert Grindelwald. Historians have debated for years which between the two is worse, but no matter what your opinion is on the matter, no one can deny that Grindelwald is one of the most terrifying figures in Wizarding history, and that's saying something. His eccentric appearance with the bizarre hairdo, sunken-in heterochromic eyes and mustache did a pretty fantastic job of hiding the power-mad sadist within him.
Being privy to certain documents that most Magical residents are not allowed access to, I've seen the "evil plans" he drafted for later use and am thankful that every day he was defeated and swiftly imprisoned before he got the chance to put them into practice. There are literally rooms and rooms of notebooks he filled with his sick parody of world peace. The man actually recruited famous architects in order to build the infamous Nurmengard and took the time to write down every single miniscule detail of how his empire would function from the minor bureaucratic technicalities to elaborating on how mass upheaval of conventional Wizarding law would result from his supposed "benevolent dictatorship."
There happens to be a book on my very shelf that details Grindelwald's life story as written by the incomparable Eldred Worple that I sadly cannot claim to have read more than once. It is entitled My FIght For The Greater Good. While I am more than familiar with his superb work (thanks to a certain mutual friend) and typically enjoy his enthusiastic "life stories," the interviews Worple held with Grindelwald were downright unsettling.
Similar to my crippling fear of Lethifolds thanks to a certain illustration thanks to "Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them," the book also contains sketches and little notes Grindelwald drew in his diary as a child and teenager. Some are normal such as techniques for spells or potion recipes, various re-drawings of The Deathly Hallows symbol, and one curiosity entitled "G + A = 3" indicating a childhood crush. Others are detailed sketches of dissected animals, himself performing sexual actions with various people, scrawled messages of abuse (possibly directed at himself?), and screaming faces with hands enclosed around the throat. Not a badly told story by any means, but I am not a fan.
For my money, the essential difference between Grindelwald and Voldemort is how they crafted their image. Voldemort mainly operated whilst hidden under the shadows, preferring stealth and intimidation to outright declarations of war. Grindelwald, however, smiled giddily and quoted religious verses as he murdered anyone who stood in his way. And as self-important and methodical as Voldemort was in life, it is unlikely he would have had posters passed out on the street that bragged "Grindelwald Productions ™ Proudly Presents: For The Greater Good: World Tour. Coming Soon To _(Fill In Location Here)!"
While Grindelwald kept his reign of terror confined to Eastern Europe for the most part, he occasionally arranged razes on strategic locations around the world in order to remind everyone that he was still there. One such raze took place in Hogsmeade, resulting in the deaths of nineteen shopkeepers. That was enough to set my Father off, refusing to send me to Hogwarts citing numerous other nasty incidents that were occurring thanks to The World Tour and instead writing to Ilvermorny and asking if they would accept me instead.
In despite of Grindelwald's coup taking over the news and keeping The British Ministry on their toes, my childhood was pretty normal otherwise. The summer before I was shipped off to Ilvermorny was full of excitement as I received my acceptance letter and we were off to Diagon Alley for my wand. I am rather proud of it if I do say so myself. Fourteen Inches, Horned Serpent Core, Oak, Curved at the Handle. Took me thirty-seven tries at Mr. Ollivanders, but you can't rush art, that's what I say.
On September 1st, 1936, my Grandparents, Mother, and Father are all gathered together, giving me last-minute reminders, kisses, hugs from my Mother's side, and respectable handshakes from my Father's side of the family. Right before I boarded for The Knight Boat, Grandpa Robert stopped to hug and kiss me for what he promised was the last time that day (it was not) and slipped me a package.
"It's an early birthday present. Trust me, the girls will all go crazy for you!" he whispered. And with a groan of embarrassment combined with a roll of the eyes and bemused shake of my head that echoed my Mother's almost perfectly I give him a little bow, he gave me one in return, and I boarded my one-way trip for Ilvermorny, my family waving at me until they were all tiny little specks.
I wish I could say the five following years were more interesting, but other than a few exam-related mishaps I had a pretty typical school experience. Here is all the information that I feel is noteworthy: I had the opportunity of being approached by both The Thunderbird and Horned Serpent Houses, and although it was a toss-up I decided to follow my wand and chose Horned Serpent. I wasn't exactly popular but was fairly well-liked by my peers thanks to my status as a well-dressed exchange student from Britain, and had my first foray into politics as I was narrowly elected class president.
I wish there was more to tell you, but really I look at my Ilvermorny Years with the deepest of fondness and there is little I would change. At least be grateful I'm not droning on and on about my school like a certain American President I could name in MY biography *Cough Cough Rhymes With Splinton.* We get it, Bill, you went to college. Big whoop. Does that fact really justify 1008 pages? Frankly, who really sits down and reads books that are more than 800 pages, anyway? Ah, I might be getting off track.
However, it all ended in 1941 with Grindelwald's World Tour ending in America with a literal bang as Ilvermorny was razed by his followers during our O.W.L's. To this day I personally blame my "Acceptable" Transfiguration grade on him, couldn't he at least have waited until after our examinations were all done before having a Giant use the school statue as a toothpick? Truly, he was history's greatest monster.
Few casualties this time around thanks to the Aurors, but with Ilvermorny in disrepair we were sent off to other Wizarding Schools in the hope that our fair Ilvermorny would be as good as new real soon. I was told that Hogwarts was more than happy to take me back, much to my Father's chagrin and my Mother's delight.
So, with my Grandpa's early 11th birthday present on my head (was hoping for a cake, honestly), I entered Platform 9 & ¾ for the first time of my life and rode on The Hogwarts Express to my new future. It was there that I met my star.
