Aside from the minorly inconvenient points, like I’m in my late-20s, and the school is fictional. Fictional schools is they give us freedom to imagine, and anyway. You’ll always find a home at Hogwarts. I will, even when I’m old and grey.
Like lots of Millennials, I’ve spent the past 20 years watching the doormat. And the fireplace, and the windows, but especially the doormat. Most of us have never got beyond the disappointment and the hope. What if it actually came? Ignoring the obvious, practical stuff, would you really be happy at Hogwarts?
Sounds like a no-brainer, but I’ve thought about it from the flip-side. Here are some of the things that could cause problems if I packed up my trunk and headed for Platform 9 3/4.
Cat or owl? I have two cats I am very fond of, but would I take them to Hogwarts? Aside from the fact the rest of the family would complain, I would never see the cats again. Willow would spend her days hunting in the Forbidden Forest, which carries all kinds of health and safety rules. Maisie would make her way to the kitchens, then never leave. Those house-elves seem obliging, and Maisie loves her food. Come to think of it, Willow would probably hunt the house-elves, too.
Stomach Ache – with the range of magical sweets available, and passages out of the school which lead straight to Honeydukes, I would have constant stomach ache. And toothache. Then again, Madam Pomfrey might leave me with a bottle of stomach solution. Imagine. All the sweets, none of the pain. I’d be Dudley-sized before the end of the first term.
How would I ever leave the library? Odds are, I never would. Some dangerous herbology book in the Restricted section would swallow me whole when I tried to take it without permission.
Following on from that thought, I’d lose too many house points to have friends. I would take issue at the idea of restricted books, and stage protests. Read-ins. Aside from the damage to other pupils, I would be very unpopular.
Peeves. If that poltergeist played a prank on me, I’d try to prank him back. He’d probably frame me for his activities for the rest of my student days.
Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. Always pleased to meet a fellow Gryffinclaw. I want to be a Ravenclaw. I’m an overthinker, and I’m bright, but I’m also impulse. Determined. I make decisions not on logic, but on what feels right and true. Online tests put me in Ravenclaw, but I always think they fail to find that Gryffindor streak. The trouble isn’t that I don’t know where I belong – the sorting hat would suss that out. The trouble is, I have an allegiance to both. How could I ever belong to one?
Sit in the Quidditch stands when there is warm fire in the common room? You do realise this is the Highlands? It’s a wonder the players aren’t blown off their broomsticks. My general attitude to sport is one game and I’ve seen it all.
Dumbledore would lose his pensive. I’m such an overthinker, it would probably be a school-wide benefit to leave it in my possession.
No Wi-Fi. An embargo on the non-magic world ever finding out about magic. OK, so you’ve got a world of magic at your fingertips, but how frustrating would it be not to share it on Twitter?