An investigative report on the difference between Hogwarts’ and muggles’ Hallowe’en celebrations.

By Violette Twiggs, Pumpkin Menace, Powered by sweets, and Self-Appointed Inspector of All Things Spooky. 

Hallowe’en is upon us, dear readers! 

The one glorious night of the year when looking half-dead is fashionable, threatening strangers for sweets is considered a charming tradition, and nobody bats an eye when pumpkins are murdered in the name of celebrating [editor’s note: except The Owl Post’s  former editor]. Ah, Hallowe’en… when looking like you crawled out of a grave is socially acceptable, eating your body weight in sweets is practically a civic duty, and nobody questions why you are carrying a severed head under your arm…

Naturally, it is my favourite holiday. 

Christmas has its carols, Easter has its eggs, and Valentine’s Day has its weird romantic  fools spending perfectly good money on heart-shaped nonsense…
On the other hand, Hallowe’en has monsters, mischief, costumes, sweets, and the opportunity to judge people’s life choices based entirely on their pumpkin-carving abilities. What more could a wixen want?

But while preparing for this year’s festivities, I found myself asking questions that have haunted me more persistently than a particularly clingy ghost:   How does Muggles’ Hallowe’en compare to ours? Why do Muggles spend an entire month trying to recreate magic, only to spend the other eleven months insisting it doesn’t exist?

I promised myself an impartial investigation; I would examine the history, explore Muggle traditions, study their decorations, observe their attempts to manufacture a spooky atmosphere and give both sides a fair chance.

I have already failed at the last part. Let’s begin.

A LITTLE HISTORY BEFORE WE START THROWING PUMPKINS

Hallowe’en didn’t simply fall out of a cauldron one morning, despite what certain people might hope. Its roots stretch back to Samhain, an ancient Celtic festival marking the end of the harvest and the beginning of winter. It was associated with seasonal change, communal fires, and beliefs that the boundary between the living world and the Otherworld could grow thinner, allowing spirits and supernatural beings to cross between them. Some traditions involved disguises, fires, and offerings. The idea of dressing as something frightening may have helped people navigate a night associated with otherworldly visitors. Whether the disguise was meant to confuse spirits or simply make the wearer look considerably less appealing to them is a question I shall leave to the historians.

In other words, our ancestors looked at a dark October evening and thought, Lovely. Let’s add ghosts.

Over time, older traditions mingled with Christian observances such as All Saints’ Day, and “All Hallows’ Eve” eventually became “Hallowe’en”. 

Medieval customs such as souling, alongside Scottish and Irish ‘guising’ traditions, helped shape the door-to-door trick-or-treating we know today. People dressed up, performed, and received food or treats. 

Centuries later, Muggles have refined this into sending their children to strangers’ houses to demand sugar boosted sweets while wearing plastic fangs. Human progress is a remarkable thing. Although I do wonder how many Muggle parents have considered that they are effectively training their children to knock on strangers’ doors wearing disguises and request suspicious confectionery. One can only assume the sweets are worth the risk.

Then there are jack-o’-lanterns, associated with Irish folklore about Stingy Jack, who supposedly tricked the Devil and was left wandering with a burning coal inside a carved turnip. The tradition travelled as people did, and pumpkins entered the picture, as they were much easier to carve than sad turnips… and the world discovered that vegetables are considerably more entertaining when given murderous expressions. [editor’s note: though carving neeps does continue North of the English border].

For anyone wishing to read further, I recommend doing your research, or ask Professors Livingstone or Hargrave. It is important to understand the history of a holiday before you start questioning its traditions. 

Which brings us neatly to the first one… decorations.

MUGGLE HALLOWE’EN: A CRY FOR HELP, OR A VERY EXPENSIVE HOBBY?

Let us give credit where it is due. Muggles try. They really do. 

Every October, they emerge from their houses armed with plastic skeletons, artificial cobwebs, DIY cardboard gravestones, papier maché pumpkins in all sizes and shapes, and enough orange lights and candles to make the street resemble a smashed pumpkin having a nervous breakdown. They build haunted houses, spookily leap out of cupboards, and spend perfectly good money on machines that produce artificial fog. Artificial fog! Imagine being so determined to experience the supernatural that you purchase a machine to make your living room look vaguely haunted!

At Hogwarts, we have actual mysterious corridors. Some of them are practically begging to be investigated. We have moving staircases, ancient portraits, and enough unexplained noises to keep the school gossip industry thriving until graduation.

Muggles have to buy their own atmosphere. We merely have to turn a corner.

I read somewhere that one particularly ambitious Muggle family reportedly spent three weeks constructing a twelve-foot cardboard dragon for their front garden. Twelve feet! Three weeks! And then, it rained. The dragon collapsed. Three weeks of work, destroyed by a cloud. I am not saying a simple weather charm would have helped, but I am certainly thinking it rather loudly.

And what about those fake cobwebs? Muggles actually purchase fake cobwebs to decorate their houses. Do they not have spiders? Are the spiders on strike? Has nobody informed them that an ordinary dusty cupboard can look deeply unsettling without spending six Sickles, or the Muggle equivalent, on a bag of ‘synthetic’ strings?

Their pumpkins, however, deserve a mention. Some are beautifully carved. Others look as though the person responsible attempted to perform surgery after consuming three bottles of Firewhisky. I have seen jack-o’-lanterns with more confused expressions than first-years arriving at the wrong classroom. Still, at least pumpkins are honest. They make no grand claims about being magical. They simply sit there, orange and round, waiting to be turned into soup or something that might frighten the postman. 

Unlike Muggles, who will spend the entire evening dressed as witches and wizards, then look you straight in the face and insist magic is nonsense. Make it make sense.

WITCHES GET WARTS, WIZARDS GET WISDOM APPRAISAL

My investigation has uncovered another scandal: Muggle artistic discrimination.

When Muggles draw a wizard, he is a noble, mighty old gentleman with flowing robes, a magnificent beard, and the serene expression of someone who has never once lost an argument.

Now, ask them to draw a witch, and suddenly, she becomes depicted as flying an old twisted and filthy broom, with an equally same old and filthy black cat, she has green skin, a hooked nose, fourteen warts, and the general appearance of a turnip that has been left in a cellar since the Middle Ages.

EXCUSE ME? WHAT? MUGGLES?! I NEED EXPLAINATIONS!

Does the beard grant wisdom? Is there an examination? Does a man wake up with three inches of facial hair and immediately become qualified to advise leaders?

And why does a wizard’s pointy hat make him look distinguished, while a witch wearing the exact same hat looks like she is about to poison a village well?

Muggle illustrators, I have questions, and I am prepared to make them everyone’s problem.

Wizards are allowed to be powerful, elegant, noble, mysterious, and terrifying. Witches are too often condemned to the role of wicked hag, as though magical ability comes with a complimentary curse on one’s skincare routine…

Let the record show that witches can be mighty, wizards can be wicked, both can be elegant, and either can dress like a wardrobe exploded. Magic is not a gendered accessory, and neither is good fashion.

I propose a new Muggle Hallowe’en regulation: for every ten illustrations of a wise old wizard with a beard, one must feature a terrifying witch looking absolutely fabulous, and another must feature a wizard whose hat is doing more work than his brain.

HOGWARTS: WHERE THE SPOOKINESS IS INCLUDED IN THE TUITION

Now, I know what you’re thinking. Surely Hogwarts must do something special for Hallowe’en?

Oh, dear reader. Hogwarts does not simply do Hallowe’en. Hogwarts makes Hallowe’en look as though every other celebration has arrived wearing mismatched socks.

First, there is pumpkin carving. Students gather to transform innocent vegetables [editor’s note: pumpkins are technically a fruit or berry] into works of art, frightening faces, and occasionally something that looks like it has just been told it failed its Charms exam.

I once heard of a student who carved a pumpkin so magnificently terrifying that a passing first-year apologised to it. Another allegedly gave theirs a smile so unsettling that even the carver refused to sit with it at dinner. I cannot verify these reports, but I can verify that some students should never be trusted with sharp objects and artistic freedom at the same time.

Then comes trick-or-treating around the school. Sweets, costumes, and the chance to engage in festive mischief, even with professors! Naturally, it is expected that everyone behaves responsibly. We must preserve the fine distinction between a harmless Hallowe’en prank and becoming the reason a professor invents an entirely new detention category.

And then, the Hallowe’en Bash!

Muggles have costume parties. Hogwarts has a castle full of witches and wizards who can bring an extraordinary amount of creativity, dramatic flair, and questionable judgement to a single room. There are the most outstanding costumes, music, dancing, the most magnificent venue decor that makes our great hall almost unrecognizable and at least one person who claims their outfit is an artistic statement when it is clearly the result of losing a fight with a curtain.

A rumour has reached my ears that a student once spent an entire evening insisting their costume was a fearsome mythical beast, only for someone to ask whether they had simply wrapped themselves in a bedsheet and misplaced the eyeholes. I shall not identify the student. I am a journalist, not a monster.

I am also looking forward to the grand Hallowe’en feast, because I believe all serious investigations should conclude with food. The Great Hall transforms into a spectacular setting, the decorations create the perfect atmosphere, and the tables fill with food worthy of the occasion. Muggles may have themed dinners, but I have yet to see a Muggle dinner party that can compete with an entire magical castle celebrating together.

Pumpkin carving. Trick-or-treating. The Bash. The feast. Four excellent reasons to spend Hallowe’en at Hogwarts, and not one requires a cardboard dragon or an artificial fog machine.

THE FINAL VERDICT: MUGGLES, PLEASE TAKE NOTES

I will concede that Muggles have history, creativity, and some rather impressive pumpkin-carving skills. Their traditions are fascinating, and their enthusiasm is almost touching.

But their relationship with magic remains deeply confusing.

They spend October pretending to be witches, wizards, vampires, ghosts, and monsters, while spending the rest of the year explaining away anything extraordinary as a trick of the light. They buy fake cobwebs, artificial fog, and cardboard castles to recreate the atmosphere we have simply by walking to class.

And apparently, they still think wizards deserve magnificent beards while witches deserve warts. A tragic state of affairs. 

At Hogwarts, Hallowe’en is not a desperate attempt to imitate the extraordinary. It is an opportunity to celebrate the extraordinary we already live with. The castle provides the atmosphere, the students provide the imagination, and the festivities provide every excuse imaginable to eat too much, get full on sugar, dress outrageously, and make memories with friends.

So, Muggles, by all means enjoy your plastic skeletons. Cherish your cardboard dragons. Continue carving pumpkins that look like they have witnessed unspeakable horrors.

But if you want a proper Hallowe’en, nothing beats Hogwarts.

We have the magic, the costumes, the treats, the Bash, and the feast. We have enough mystery to keep the school rumour mill spinning until Christmas. And we have absolutely no need to buy fake cobwebs.

Hogwarts is the place to be for Hallowe’en.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a very important investigation to conduct into the contents of the feast menu with Abner. My methods are rigorous. My standards are high. My fork is ready.

Happy Hallowe’en, you all delightful little menaces!

V. Twiggs, Wickedly curious. Frightfully opinionated. Sweet-toothed. Green-skinned? Wart-covered? Absolutely not. Some of us have standards. 

P.S. Stay spooky, eat too much candy, and remember: Hallowe’en only comes once a year, so make the most of it!