False Things You Believe About Hogwarts

Peeves, a naughty little sprite with a passion for pranks, is easy to think of as one of Hogwarts' many ghosts. He is, in fact, a poltergeist — meaning he was never a real person at all. By definition, ghosts in the Harry Potter universe are dead wizards and witches who choose to remain in the corporeal world instead of moving on. Only magical folks have this option, and once it's done, it can't be undone.

In contrast, Peeves was essentially, if unintentionally, created by Hogwarts students. Poltergeists form where there are high level of energy, magic, and emotion – a school full of teenagers is, as a result, a perfect breeding ground. It was only a matter of time before Hogwarts produced a poltergeist, and there's no getting rid of him — as J.K. Rowling herself once put it, Peeves is like "dry rot ... it comes with the building." He's about as old as the school itself, and he'll be there until its end.

Peeves' abilities are especially potent for a poltergeist. Many have tried to expel him over the years, but a face-off in 1876 involving a cannon put an end to these ill-fated attempts. A contract was signed with then-Headmistress Eupraxia Mole, ensuring some level of decency on Peeves' part in exchange for certain privileges. He's tiny, he floats, and he has a knack for showing up at the worst possible time — but he's part of the Hogwarts package.

If you're a bright-eyed first-year Hogwarts student and someone tells you there's a giant squid in the Great Lake, you're probably not going to go anywhere near it. In truth, the idea that the larger-than-life squid is dangerous likely began as a way of keeping students from the depths of its black waters. In reality, the giant squid is probably the least threatening creature in the Hogwarts lake.

Even the misunderstood beast's Chocolate Frog card won't give it a break: It labels the squid as " the bane" of students who want to go for a "dip in the lake." That's not true at all, though. The squid is, in fact, semi-domesticated, and even moonlights as a lake-bound lifeguard. During Harry's fourth year, Dennis Creevey falls out of his boat during the journey to Hogwarts — and the squid plops him right back into the vessel without missing a beat. Given that Dennis later bursts with excitement to tell the story, it couldn't have been all that scary.

The squid has a playful side as well, allowing Fred, George, and Lee Jordan to tickle its tentacles. Perhaps it knows it has a good thing going on, evidenced by the times Harry tosses toast into the lake for the squid to snack on. Free food in exchange for staying chill and handling occasional first-year accidents? That's a sweet deal.

It's hard to imagine Hogwarts without the Sorting Hat. But in fact, the hat wasn't even the first method of student sorting J.K. Rowling contemplated. Complex machines and statues of the founders were in the running, but these options were "too easy" and "not quite right." Eventually, she devised the Sorting Hat. Before the old hat determined incoming students' Hogwarts houses, however, the founders sorted first years themselves. Harry's fourth year Sorting Hat ceremony reveals this tidbit in its welcoming song: "While still alive they did divide/ their favorites from the throng."

Knowing they were not immortal, the founders put their heads together to create a long-term sorting solution. According to the Sorting Hat, "The founders put some brains in [it] so [it] could choose instead." According to legend, it once belonged to Godric Gryffindor, though the magic that empowers it was a four-person effort.

The Hat has chosen students' Hogwarts house ever since. However, the hat does consider the student's own opinions and desires. It focuses as much, if not more, on what students value rather than what they are, meaning that few are doomed to a house they truly do not belong within.

The Gryffindor common room takes center stage in the Harry Potter series, given its title character's presence within the house. But while Gryffindors must recite a password to gain access to the common room and dormitories, not every house works that way. Despite their bitter rivalry, Gryffindors and Slytherins are two sides of the same coin in this regard, as Slytherins also use passwords to protect their living quarters.

In much the same way wizards gain entrance to Diagon Alley, Hufflepuffs must tap the barrels outside their common room's entrance, located near the kitchens. If they tap in any other rhythmic sequence besides "Helga Hufflepuff," the intruder is doused with vinegar.

Ravenclaws have the most challenging time trying to get into their own common room: They gain access by answering riddles. One example of a Ravenclaw riddle is, "Which came first, the phoenix, or the flame?" Luna Lovegood answers the riddle with ease: "A circle has no beginning." Imagine getting that one riddle you just can't crack, and having to wait for someone to save you. The teasing would be merciless.

At first glance, it seems like Hogwarts bans Muggle technology. This wouldn't be surprising, given wizards' rampant distrust of muggles. But regardless of deep-rooted biases towards the non-magical community, Hogwarts doesn't actually ban muggle technology. It's a moot point, in fact: Advanced muggle technology simply doesn't work at Hogwarts. As Hermione tells Ron and Harry in Goblet of Fire, tech goes haywire at Hogwarts due to high levels of magic. 

Some wizards like Arthur Weasley have taken to tinkering with muggle objects to make them run on magic. Wizard radios are an example of tech that has undergone this process on a mass scale: Radios work at the castle because they've been magically altered. Most wizards scoff at anything more advanced, and even believe embracing devices like dishwashers points to magical inadequacy. But in the age of smartphones, it seems likely that even the most staunch pure-blood family might have to make some sacrifices. There is, after all, no magical equivalent to Candy Crush.

Have you ever wondered how the Weasleys are able to afford sending all seven of their children to the hallowed halls of Hogwarts? As it turns out, they don't have to pay at all — and neither does any other Hogwarts parent. Though some families like the Malfoys are able to afford a private school education (and then some), J.K. Rowling revealed in a tweet that the Ministry of Magic fully covers Hogwarts tuition. Can we get this going for muggle colleges? Pretty please? 

This might seem like a major bill for the Ministry to foot, but in fact, it's likely smaller than you'd expect. Back in 2000, J.K. Rowling put the student population of Hogwarts at around 1,000 kids. Fans have been trying to hash that number out ever since, leading to a number of interesting theories. One of the most popular surmises that Harry's class size is unusually small due to the effects of Voldemort's reign of terror. That's a pretty dire reason for Hogwarts' small class sizes ... but it does mean that Hogwarts puts a whole lot less strain on the ministry's coffers. Somewhere, a particularly icky magical politician probably considers this a win.

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of number four Privet Drive are proud to say that they are perfectly normal, thank you, very much — they wouldn't be caught dead inside a magical place like Hogwarts. But that doesn't mean that they couldn't visit their nephew at school if they so desired. Chamber of Secrets offers an especially sad example of this fact: Moaning Myrtle's muggle parents were able to visit the school to retrieve their daughter's body in the 1940s. That's not the only proof of this openness — Harry is terrified the Dursleys might show up during the Triwizard Tournament. Luckily for him, his abusive family wanted no part of the deadly festivities, but there's no indication that Dumbledore would have prevented them from coming if they desired.

Hogwarts appears to be a dilapidated ruin to muggle eyes, deterring all trespassers. One wonders if all muggle parents are on a list somewhere, so Dumbledore can remember who to lift the enchantment for. It seems likely that at some point in Hogwarts' history, someone in charge has probably forgotten to do this, meaning that at least one poor muggle parent has probably had to wander around a barren field of crumbling walls for hours, clutching the cauldron their kid forgot at home.