The following document was discovered on the bathroom floor of the North-Mid Quads Hall on the morning of November 1, 2011. Written in a hurried scrawl on parchment, our editors did their best to decipher the piece, allegedly written after the local Psi-Phi Fraternity’s themed party:

I think the scar really did the trick. Through the glow of the club lights, I could tell Beth was down for some snogging. We locked eyes from across the room, she in her buxom button-down Hermione shirt, me in my Gryffindor-colored sweater and thick-rimmed glasses. You could say sparks flew. As I floated across the dance floor avoiding dougie-ing Slytherins, my heart fluttered as she beckoned ever so gently with a Pumpkin Juice in her hand. I strolled over to the bartender and asked for two more potions. I could tell he didn’t really mean it when he responded: “Fuck off, dipshit.” Must have been some kind of spell.

I swept my bangs out of my eyes narrowly avoiding the Maybelline lightning bolt etched onto my forehead. She looked so sexy in that Hermione outfit. This was my night.

I could feel it in the air despite all the Mudblood sweat hitting my face as I approached her. She began to dance on me. Some kind of waltz or something. Things got a little more exciting. Boy, she got me all hot and bothered. Beth wasn’t acting like this at the theater party on Friday. Potter brings out the best in people.

Then suddenly she fell asleep with her arms around my neck. Damn, the bartender must have had some spell in all that ice he was throwing at us. She was so heavy. But so hot. I couldn’t let this get in the way of rounding Diagon Alley and making it all the way to Gringotts tonight. I got her on the bus when we had to leave and she followed me to NMQ where things got raucous. The neighbors complained of shouts of: 10 Points for Hufflepuff, which they heard throughout the night. To my dismay I woke to stubbly-faced Tom. He should have had two shots of Polyjuice to keep the illusion going a little longer. The things I do for horcruxes…

EVANSTON—Enraged and confused, Ernie Dinkelberg, 38, told Flipside reporters on Monday that he is still frantically searching for an application to Hogwarts.

Dinkelberg, who proudly admitted to having read the Harry Potter saga 47 times, said that although he has pored over the series meticulously, he has resigned himself to the fact that J.K. Rowling never mentions where or when to obtain and submit applications.

“Do I know how to make the perfect Polyjuice Potion? Yes. Do I know how kill an adversarial wizard with an Unforgivable Curse without opening my mouth? Yes. I know Hogwarts is the school for me. I just have to apply,” said Dinkelberg.

Myrna Dinkelberg, Ernie’s mother, said that she is concerned about Ernie, but hopes he soon finds what he’s looking for.

“I’d rather have him in that Hogfarts place than in my basement, you know what I mean?” said Mrs. Dinkelberg. “I just want that loser out of my house.”

Ernie Dinkelberg has taken to waiting by his mailbox for 18-hour periods seven days a week, periodically opening the mail slot and peering inside.

“He needs to get a job,” said Mrs. Dinkelberg.

“The dude’s insane, man,” said Brett Miller, a neighbor of Dinkelberg. “Sometimes, just to screw with him, I’ll, like, leaves sticks and rocks in his mailbox and watch him freak!”

“It’s just like messing with my guinea pig, except way more awesome,” Miller added, while slowly rolling the “most epic fatty this side of the Mississippi,” officials confirmed.

“I just don’t understand,” said Dinkelberg, absently stroking the neck of his battered copy of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. “The Ministry of Magic has left several wands and sorcerer’s stones in my mailbox, obviously trying to hint they want me at their educational establishment. I just wish they’d be more specific about the application procedure.”

Dinkelberg said he understands that Hogwarts isn’t for everyone, and is determined to show his persistence and dedication to the school by continuing his search for an application.

“The kid is an idiot,” Mrs Dinkelberg noted, after downing her 7th shot of whiskey. “Why me? That’s what I’m curious about.”

Although he has yet to make any sort of progress whatsoever, Dinkelberg remains steadfast in his commitment to the school.

“People try to tell me that Hogwarts isn’t real,” said Dinkelberg. “But then I just tell them about Harry’s story. It’s an adventure so pure and mystifying—you can’t just make that stuff up, you know?”

CHICAGO—After sending a campus-wide email that a student has gone missing since accidentally boarding the Platform 9¾ train at Union Station, Northwestern University has discovered that this report was a hoax after the student was found sipping piña coladas and re-reading the fifth Harry Potter novel at the Union Station bar.

“It was not a bonafide instance of magical kidnapping,” said a policeman, using his strongest diction possible.

Widespread concern was felt because of many details in the email. The Northwestern community was captivated after hearing that the student reported she entered the Tri-Wizard tournament, hooked up with Neville Longbottom, and got an A in Organic Potions.

Still, it is a slippery slope to dismiss all reports of magical platforms as false. “It’s an issue that needs to be explored fully,” says Morton “Albus” Shapiro, the University President and reported Harry Potter aficionado.

The little inconsistencies brought the story’s falsehood to light. “I should have known the story was crap when the student said she died and then came back to life. That’s an awful way to end a story… I know, I’m an RTVF major,” said McCormick Weinberg, a junior in the School of Communication.