🦉 OWL POST EXCLUSIVE 🦉
by Violette Twiggs, Fourth Year Ravenclaw, Future Journalist and Unofficial Self-Appointed Voice of Reason
Ah, exam season ! That magical time when your quill starts twitching like it’s possessed, you forget how to spell “cauldron,” and someone in the corridor bursts into tears over a smudged Astronomy chart…
As the great exam week storm is about to descend on Hogwarts, corridors start echoing with frantic quills, whispered incantations, and the low-level (high?) panic of hundreds of students collectively realising they haven’t opened their textbooks since November. In an effort to preserve what remains of our student body’s sanity, and possibly my own, I have compiled a redacted, no-nonsense guide to surviving Hogwarts Exam Week with your grades, limbs, and dignity intact. Maybe. Now take a deep breath, put that emotional support chocolate frog down, and brace yourself for a whirlwind of spellwork, stationery, and sheer academic audacity.
Let’s begin with a warm affirmation: you are not a Flobberworm. You are intelligent. You are magical. And you absolutely can pass your exams without becoming a sentient pile of parchment and self-loathing. Say it with me: “I am smarter than a pygmy puff on sugar.” (Because you are.)
Start revising now. Not “when the ghost of Albus Dumbledore, himself, visits you in a dream,” but now. Waiting until the night before your exam is essentially inviting chaos to tea. Your brain is not a Remembrall. It cannot simply absorb five months of Magical Theory because you fell asleep on your notes. And no, putting powdered Moonstone under your pillow does not summon the answers in your dreams… Start where you are. Open your notes. Glance at your textbook. You’ve already learned more than you think : your brain is not a cursed teacup, it remembers things. Just give it a nudge. Begin reviewing now, even if “now” is two weeks too late and slightly covered in chocolate frog wrappers.
Create flashcards and use them like the champion you are. Stick them on walls, pillows, mirrors, unsuspecting dorm mates. Every surface is now a study tool. Bonus points if you enchant them to cheer for you or bite any wanna-be cheater. And if you’re musically inclined, turning facts into songs is genius-level studying ! Who would forget the goblin rebellions if they were set to a catchy beat? Approximately singing your revision might earn you some side-eye stares from your pets and dorm mates, but if setting the Twelve Uses of Dragon’s Blood to a catchy tune helps, hum away. Just don’t bring the musical to the exam hall.
Practice wandwork with care and confidence. Accio knowledge! Lumos focus! Practising your spells regularly (and safely) builds muscle memory and makes you feel like a proper potent witch or wizard. But stay cautious… Levicorpus is not a lighthearted levitation technique, and dangling a prefect from the rafters for practice will earn you a detention… and a permanent place on their enemies list. Casting in calm, designated safe spaces prevents unnecessary explosions or flying ink disasters. Always a win. Safely, I said. There is no bonus point for “Most Scorch Marks on the Common Room Ceiling.” Unless you’re a Gryffindor. Then apparently it’s a competition.
Avoid mealtime multitasking. The Great Hall is for nourishment, not nocturnal cramming. There is nothing more tragic than toast covered in jam and regrets as it falls on your immaculate Defense Against the Dark Arts notes. Eat food. Real food. Something besides Sugar Quills and energy potions. Brains run better when fed, and no, licorice wands don’t count as vegetables. If your study snack has the texture of a potion ingredient, maybe put it back down.
Drink more water. Not Butterbeer. Not Muggle liquid sugar sodas. Not some suspicious potion brewed in secret in the second floor bathroom. Water. At best, maybe some tea. You need your brain hydrated if you’re going to remember the Exceptions to Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration.
Sleep is study’s best friend. Eight solid hours of magical brain recovery will do more than any midnight cram session whispered under a blanket. Give your clever self the rest it deserves ; you’ll cast sharper spells, write better essays, and be less likely to mistake a Hippogriff for a large, angry pigeon.
Choose your study group with care. If your friends are using “revision” as an excuse to discuss Quidditch player abs instead of wand motions, flee. Ask questions in class. Professors are more likely to appreciate genuine curiosity than a last-minute cry for help disguised as interpretive dance during your Transfiguration practical.
Stick to scheduled revision… then ignore it in a panic like everyone else. At least pretend to plan. Write “Wednesday: Cry and Chocolate frog” if you must. It’s still structured. And while we’re here: always double-check spellings. Confusing Levicorpus with Liberacorpus has… consequences. If you get these two mixed up, you’ll either free the Slytherin you meant to hex… or dangle your own dorm mate over the breakfast table.
Keep your revision subjects light and magical. Turn History of Magic into dramatic retellings. Draw the properties of magical plants. Use Transfiguration theory to explain how you’d turn your nerves into something useful…like an owl that drops encouragement notes (but watch out if it looks like Accident…Daisy, Prof Banks’ Meowl).. Even Potions becomes better when you think of it as a simple recipe… magic, but with a side of explosions.
Go into your exams prepared, not perfect. You don’t have to know everything, just enough to show what you’ve learned. You’ve sat through the lessons, done the homework (mostly), and made it this far. You’re not a lost gnome… chin up, you’re a student at the greatest magical school in the world, and that counts for something.
If you need a quick boost before the test, take five deep breaths, fix your collar, and channel your inner Head Student, even if you’re a second year with jam on your tie. Confidence is your secret spell. Walk into that exam hall like it’s the Yule Ball and you’re gonna win the best awards (not the prank one). You’ve got this. Your knowledge didn’t vanish overnight, it’s still in there, next to the lyrics of every Leucrotta Magic or Majestic Wombats song ever written. Trust it.
When in doubt: write something. Anything. Even if your answer starts with “Once upon a time, there was a very confused Hippogriff…” Keep going. You might accidentally get full marks for creativity. It’s happened before.
Celebrate the small wins. Finished a practice question? Amazing. Got through a chapter without drifting lost in the doodles you made on the margin of your journal? Legendary. Studied for fifteen minutes without checking the clock ? You deserve a biscuit. Focus on your motivation : Is it glory? Revenge? Parental approval? Beating that smug Gryffindor who called you a “raven-dork” in Year Two?? I digress.
Remember, Hogwarts exams don’t define you ! They just reveal how brilliantly weird your magical brain already is. So revise boldly, hydrate wisely, rest fiercely, and cast confidently. May your ink flow smoothly, your spells land perfectly, and your results reflect how awesome you already are.
You’ve got this. And if you don’t, fake it, like a Ravenclaw who definitely didn’t just learn all of Divination’s syllabus on the stairs this morning.
In conclusion: exams are scary, yes. But so are Acromantulas and we’ve all survived that one Professor Grimstone’s lesson. You’ll make it through. You’ll do brilliantly. And if not brilliantly, at least hilariously, which is half the battle.
And remember: you are a powerful, clever, magical being who has already survived Jeeves, moving staircases, and Dante Briarwood’s bad pranks. You can definitely survive a few parchment-based assessments.
May your parchment remain unsmudged, your robes unscorched, and may your inkwells never leak mid-essay.
Violette Twiggs
(Still sassy. Still stressed. But doing better than that Slytherin who vanished their notes.)
