Minerva McGonagall's Advice to Hogwarts Graduates

Minerva McGonagall’s Advice to Hogwarts Graduates

Wear a flea collar.

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, flea collars would be it. The long-term benefits of flea collars have been proved by both Healers and Muggle veterinarians, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own, admittedly vast, experience. I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But trust me, in 40 years, when you catch teenagers talking about what a dried up old maid you are and speculating about whether you’re a virgin, you’ll look back and struggle not to laugh in their faces.

Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to keep Mr. Potter and his friends out of trouble by consulting Sybil Trelawney. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that hit you squarely in the chest just when you thought the worst thing that could happen this late in the evening was another shouting match with the Toad.

Do one thing every day that scares you. Facing a pack of Aurors who are unjustly arresting a friend or colleague will do nicely.

Sing. Whether you do it at the sorting feast or in the alley behind the fish market, it will do your soul good.

Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. Tell off anyone who is reckless with yours. Or anyone who’s reckless with the hearts of your friends, even if it is a friend or with the hearts of your students, even if it is a student.

Floss. Oh and use those teeth-cleaning chew-treats. The Magical Menagerie has an excellent brand.

Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead; sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself. And the occasional toad-woman, of course.

Remember compliments you receive. Dock points for the insults.

Keep your old tartans. Throw away your old "girly" robes.

Stretch. But try not to claw the furniture while you’re doing it.

Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. Schedule an appointment with me on Career Advice Day, and we’ll discuss your options and your strengths.

Get plenty of catnip. Be kind to your paws. You'll miss them when you have to return to human form.

Maybe you'll marry; maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children; maybe you won't. Maybe the love of your life will be murdered by Death Eaters; maybe he’ll become the most powerful wizard in the world. Keep the fangirls guessing.

Enjoy your body, whatever form it’s currently in. Use it every way you can – except on the back fence, so wipe those smirks off your faces, Messieurs Weasley.

Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room. The Yule Ball is good, too.

Read the directions. Mucking about haphazardly in my class will not be tolerated. Much of life is the same way.

Do not read high-class cat magazines. They will only make you feel smug about your superior points and markings.

Be nice to your Housemates. They're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future. Be nice to people from the other houses as well. Even to the Slytherins and even if you are a Slytherin.

Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Be ready to fight by their side against any odds – or to keep your head down and hold things together while they’re gone if that’s what’s needed.

Live in New York City once. Live in Northern California once. Then go back to Scotland and thank all the Powers that there are still civilized places in the world.

Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. Some people will always cheat at Quidditch. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, wands and cauldrons were reasonably priced, politicians were noble, Quidditch matches were played fairly, and students respected their professors.

Respect your professors.

Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you come from a wealthy, pureblood family. Maybe you can sit outside someone’s door mewing plaintively until they take you in. But to be your own person – human or otherwise – you must eventually make your own way.

Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 70 it will look 150. Just pin it up in a simple bun and go on with the business of the day. But make an effort to keep your fur glossy.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the litter box, cleaning it off, painting over the ugly parts and laying it at your feet, like a fresh-killed mouse.

But trust me on the flea collar.