My child will not be attending Hogwarts, thank you very much

I grew up adoring the world of Harry Potter. But as a parent, I will not be sending my child to Hogwarts, thank you very much.



I’ve recently emerged from the darkness of freedom, midweek drinking, and anonymous sex of singledom to become a parent. This process of evolution has awarded me three things. I’m responsible for a tiny me, I’m able to wear shorts everywhere, and suddenly I have opinions on things.

Opinions that ruin everything.

Here’s one. Prior to my meta-mum-phosis, I was a Potterverse devotee, I would protect the holy words of our Lord and saviour/Twitter flame artist, JK Rowling, with the power of a thousand devil’s snares. I had no choice. Much like the angry millennials who grip Kalashnikovs in the mountains of Afghanistan, I was programmed at a young age. The gaps in logic didn’t exist, because it didn’t matter. It was my youth, and if you have a problem, mate, I’ll get all my friends who have allied under a fictional flag to fight you.

Hufflepuff or death.

However, now that I’m of children, I’ve gone from Harry to James, this wisdom which kind of makes me point the fingers at the Potters and the rest of their generation. Hogwarts is not a very safe place to send your children to prepare them for their future lives, especially if they just end up working in that goblin bank. Yes, I’m that person at the parent/teaching meeting with a shrieking shack to burn down, but you lot are failing your responsibility as parents, and I have the floor.

Alright, peep this hypothetical.

You have a child. That child is gifted. You want to send that child to a gifted school. You find out that there is but one school who will take child in the entire country. It doesn’t matter, child was accepted, and well done you.

On the first day, your child is split into four separate houses, four identities based primarily on assumption. Your child is not asked where they’d want to go, a decision is made for them. The decision is made by a party who has only met your child once. Children, as we know, change. They’re an unfinished blob of clay, and trying to pigeonhole them is stupid. They don’t know, so why are you forcing them to stick to one thing? Hmm?

Using the canon example, what if you’re placed in Slytherin and you’re not a murdering satan worshipper? Or in Gryffindor and you’re not a pompous, glory-seeking megadouche? Or if you’re in Ravenclaw and have something of value to add? Do you want a personality-based class system, Hogwarts? Because this is how you get a personality-based class system.

Anyway. So, back to you. Young Wizard Kevin, your Wizard Kevin, trots off to a school via a secret train. Seems fine. You hope for the best.

In the first year, a teacher dies. That and giant dangerous beasts roam the premises for some reason.



In the second year, Kevin is attacked by spiders and a giant snake.

In the next, the head torturers from a place not dissimilar to Guantanamo Bay nearly take over the school.

After that, a classmate is murdered in front of him at the cross-country by a serial killer who was targeting the faculty. Later, your son will be asked to stand up to said serial killer because everyone peer pressured him to do it.

At what point, as a parent, do you stop sending Kevin to that school?

Well, parents of the Potterverse, I say shame on you. You should have worn muggle rubbers, because the fact that the school never struggles for students says it all really.

Tsk tsk tsk.

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