By Violette Twiggs, 5th year Ravenclaw, your favorite truth-telling journalist
Surviving your first week at Hogwarts so far? Congratulations, miracle child. You’ve survived the first few weeks without spontaneously combusting, being eaten by a tree, or accidentally turning your roommate into a toad. Barely. But judging from what I’ve seen traipsing through these halls, my first “First-Year Survival Guide” clearly wasn’t enough. So before you strut around like you own the castle, let me deliver a bit of reality. Hogwarts is definitely not your average school. It is alive, unpredictable, and very eager to chew and spit out clueless students who think they are clever.
Consider this my generous gift to you: a list of 50 things you absolutely should not do here, unless your lifelong dream is “getting sent to the hospital wing” or “becoming gossip fodder for the next century”. Of course, this list is not exhaustive, and I’m sure I could easily list 50 more if I had the time and not a full pile of homework waiting on my bed.
But let’s go for a major ‘do not’ rule as introduction… In case of doubt, whatever it is, do not touch it, poke it, hex it or even acknowledge you saw it.
You’re welcome.
- Do not ask the ghosts how they died. Some mysteries are meant to stay mysterious. Asking will only result in endless moaning and zero useful answers.
- Do not ask the ghost for dating advice. Their life lessons are mostly tragic and filled with endless sobbing. Your heart will not thank you.
- Do not name-drop famous wizards in every conversation. Nobody cares that your cousin’s neighbor’s friend’s owl once saw Merlin’s beard comb. It doesn’t make you interesting, it makes you unbearable. Hogwarts has enough egos without you inflating yours.
- Do not ask Sir Caddlewomp’s painting about his horse. The man will go on for hours about “the noblest steed ever to gallop across the kingdom” when, in reality, the horse’s name was Pickles and it once fainted during a parade because it got spooked by a cabbage.
- Do not try to bribe the portraits. They don’t want your Chocolate Frogs. They want peace or juicy gossip and any embarrassing stories you may tell will spread faster than wildfire.
- Do not test spells from random library books on your roommate. Tentacles, hair growth, or a sudden purple face is never cute. Stick to practice on inanimate objects.
- Do not whistle in the library. Miss Bergson can hear it from six floors away, and she has the glare of someone who has personally hexed louder people into silence. Trust me, she will find you, and you will regret your musical ambitions.
- Do not sneak snacks into Potions class. The cauldrons do not mix well with extra chocolate. One bite and your snack may explode in your face.
- Do not swap wands with a friend. It seems fun until the spells misfire. Eyebrows, hair, or even your lunch may disappear.
- Do not copy spells off the bathroom wall graffitis. That is cheating and also unsanitary. Besides, your spell may end up looking like a rainbow explosion.
- Do not treat Divination as nap time. And don’t justify it on ‘practicing oneiromancy’. The predictions will become dramatic, and Prof Galagher will glare at you with maximum intensity.
- Do not challenge the Transfiguration professor to transform. Banks will take on your word and will destroy your confidence. Goose Style. Avoid humiliation.
- Do not mistake Priaulx’s class for ‘Astrology’, or ask if the stars can predict your future. She will give you a thirty-minute lecture about cosmic importance, and why to not mistake Astronomy and Astrology.
- Do not doodle on your desk in Charms. Magic has a sense of humor, and suddenly that heart with initials becomes permanently enchanted graffiti.
- Do not ask Professor Moore if doodling counts as a project. She will calmly remind you that your scribbled stick-figure dragon does not, in fact, evoke “existential angst,” no matter how convincing your shrug is.
- Do not try to sneak your pet into Potions class. Last thing you need is Fluffy now glowing neon green and demanding only gourmet tuna.
- Do not enchant your quill to do your homework. The quill will write, sure, but it will also sass. Your Potions essay will come back annotated with “this idiot still can’t spell cauldron.” ot it will take creative liberty and submit something titled “Why My Professor Smells Like Turnips.”
- Do not treat Muggle Studies as a chance to belittle Muggle-borns. They know more than you, and they’ll roast you mercilessly.
- Do not eat the mystery pudding during the feasts. It looks suspicious for a reason. One bite and your taste buds may never forgive you.
- Do not mix Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans with real food. Surprise flavors like earwax are not optional fun. Your stomach will revolt.
- Do not stick gum under the tables in the Great Hall. The house-elves are aware of every single chewer, and rumor says they keep a list. Do you really want to end up on the Naughty Gum Chewers Register?
- Do not feed the owls treacle tart. They will either dive-bomb you for more or leave you a very sticky, feathery disaster on the great hall table. Either way, enjoy cleaning your robes.
- Do not try to charm the ceiling of the Great Hall. It already has a personality. Add one more spell, and you’ll be eating your breakfast under raining spaghetti.
- Do not throw Dungbombs in the Great Hall. It will not be funny when your mashed potatoes smell like sewage for a week.
- Do not tickle the Whomping Willow. It will hit you, your friends, your enemies and possibly your dignity. Stay at a safe distance, Avoid temptation, avoid hospital visits.
- Do not duel in the bathrooms. There is soap, water, tiles, and absolutely no escape plan. Chaos guaranteed.
- Do not lick the walls. It is sticky, cold, and absolutely not part of any approved magical experiment. Also, Eww.
- Do not ask the Centaur groundskeeper if you can ride him. Centaurs are proud creatures. They are not ponies and they do not tolerate silly human ideas.
- Do not wave at the giant squid like it’s your pen pal. It’s not your buddy. It’s not waiting to high-five you. It’s a sea monster with tentacles longer than your family tree. When it waves back, it waves water, gallons of it, straight into your face, your robes, and your reputation.
- Do not try to outsmart the staircases. They have been twisting, turning, and betraying students since before your great-great-grandparents were born. You are not clever, you are simply the next victim.
- Do not knock on the walls hoping to find secret passages. You will find nothing but bruised knuckles and confused portraits watching you like you’ve lost your mind. Soon enough, half the castle will be whispering, “There goes the Brick Botherer.”
- Do not ask the suits of armor to sing. They will absolutely perform, and then you will have to live with off-key clanging echoing down the corridors all night.
- Do not try to keep a Cornish pixie as a pet. They are tiny blue nightmares who will redecorate your room by destroying it. And they bite.
- Do not try to ride your broomstick indoors. Nothing says “legendary” like smashing into a chandelier and getting tangled in candles like a festive piñata. You’ll break a vase, knock over three portraits, and be tackled by a prefect before you even do a loop. Save your broom stunts for the pitch, wannabe superstar.
- Do not test “Alohomora” on random doors. Some lead to broom closets. Some lead to angry magical creatures. Guess which one you’ll find first.
- Do not try to sneak into the staff room. You’re not ready to face this. What you may overhear will either scare you for life or give you nightmares about grading policies.
- Do not assume every hallway leads somewhere. Some lead back to where you started. Some lead into broom closets. Some lead directly into shame.
- Do not juggle cauldrons. Heavy, dangerous, and bubbling with toxic sludge. Please juggle literally anything else.
- Do not assume curfew doesn’t matter. At Hogwarts, “after hours” is basically code for “extra dangerous.” The ghosts get weird, the portraits get nosy, and the staircases get ideas. Even the giant squid probably judges you from outside the lake. Stay inside, stay safe, and let the prefects enjoy their nightly patrol power trip.
- Do not tell a Gryffindor they are “basically Hufflepuffs with anger issues.” It is a recipe for drama, screaming, and possibly a duel. Stay safe.
- Do not try to beat a Ravenclaw at trivia. You’ll be humiliated in seventeen different languages and three obscure runic dialects.
- Do not ask a Slytherin “what’s your plan?” If they tell you, you’re already part of it. If they don’t, you’re still part of it. Either way … you’re doomed.
- Do not tell Hufflepuffs they’re “just nice.” They’ll smile sweetly and then bury you in baked goods until you can’t breathe. Death by biscuit is still death.
- Do not prank Prefects. Revenge will be subtle, slow, and utterly terrifying. You will regret every second of it.
- Do not interrupt the Headmaster’s speech. That is the kind of move that lands you on the wrong side of history, because the speeches are sacred, long-winded, and terrifyingly protected.
- Do not call the Sorting Hat “old and dusty.” It has been judging souls for centuries. It can and will roast you better than any comedian alive.
- Do not suggest that Quidditch “doesn’t make sense.” That is basically treason. You will be exiled socially and possibly hexed on the pitch.
- Do not wear socks with sandals in the castle. Hogwarts has seen dragons, trolls, and cursed objects, but even it has limits. Fashion crimes are where the line is drawn. Only Vikander was brave enough to risk it and survive. But you don’t have his defense skills.
- Do not say “How bad can it be?” out loud in Hogwarts. The castle hears you. The castle answers. And it always escalates.
- Do not think Hogwarts is safe. It is not, and it never will be. But at least you’ll have stories to tell.
So there you have it. Fifty excellent ways to avoid embarrassing yourself, losing a limb, or ending up in a story that starts with “Once upon a time, a foolish student thought they were funny…” Hogwarts is already dangerous without your help.
Stay alert, stay sharp, and if you ignore this list, at least make it entertaining enough for me to write about later in the school newspaper.
Sincerely yours,
Violette Twiggs (still alive, miraculously)