I'll tell you a tale about weather. I know a bit about the subject, ye ken, me being a wizard. Of course, wizards aren't supposed to dabble with weather - all this fuss about the butterfly wing in China and the storm in the US, I'm sure you've heard that one. And a wizard can do considerably more than flap a butterfly wing.
To be honest, I'm not much of a wizard. I failed the examinations twice, and they let me pass the third time only because they were tired of seeing me dragging my sorry carcass along the corridors of the Faculty of Wizardry.
It was the language, ye ken. Spells are in Latin, and this is a language I doubt even the Romans were able to speak correctly. But well, I passed, Latin or no.
So, I went out of the University Main Building with this yellowish piece of paper, signed by the Chancellor, and looked for a job. Wizards aren't exactly the most sought-after specialists to begin with, and a wizard whose spells come awry more often than not, doesn't stand a chance.