Hogsmeade Council, Hogwarts decide nothing

Following another dead-end discussion between University officials and the Hogsmeade Council, the decision to move the Hogwarts Express station two-Dumbledore-lengths south to make way for the school’s new Center for Tea Leaf Studies and Magical Mental Health has been postponed indefinitely. This is the 17th time in the past four months that such a meeting has completed absolutely nothing. Trust us; we’ve reported on all of them.

While Hogsmeade officials expressed indignation that the University was not showing how this deal could possibly help the town, Headmistress Shirley Tilghman insisted that she was prepared to contribute a Dalmatian, two chipped cups and a three-year supply of Bert’s Beeswax Body Soap to the town should they accept the proposal.

David Foldgarb, member of the Hogsmeade Council, blasted the Headmistress for her inadequate proposal. “In the past three years, Hogwarts has always made its yearly Beeswax Body Soap contribution. Making it a part of this unrelated deal is truly barbaric.”

Tilghman took umbridge at the slight. “We at Hogwarts know that by expanding our divination studies department by the construction of a new institute for tea leaf studies we can both provide new artistic opportunities for our students and provide a real service for the town.”

“But think of the children!” Foldgarb explained. “And the old people, and the invalids, and the cripples! They’re not going to be able to make it that much farther to the train. And then they’ll be stuck in Hogsmeade! There’s nothing to do here! And then our reputation will get worse, and people will just know the town as ‘that place next to the school.’ And we’ll be locked into putting up with whatever stupid plans Hogwarts has for the rest of our natural lives!”

Tilghman insisted that the new Center was integral to the present functioning and future development of the school. “I would like to think we could begin to attract students with spiky pink hair, six fingers and maybe an ugly birthmark or two,” she said. “In fact, our admission process is being revised to accommodate the crowd that our new Center is expected to bring in.”

Most of the discussion involved old people speaking at great length. Consequently, the only people awake at the end of the evening were Tilghman herself and her lawyers, who kept themselves awake by tying scraps of sandpaper to their thighs.

In fact, the only action of the evening came when Roger Dartinmell, during a lull in the discussions, suddenly exclaimed, “Milkstool! Milkstool! Blubbermouth! Oddment! Tweak!” Dartinmell was escorted from the premises following the outburst.

As for the Dalmatian, it remained unclaimed at the end of the meeting.

Editor’s note: This article in its original form contained approximately 1,000 additional words of unimportant twiddle-twaddle that is only read by convicts and budgies that use this newspaper as cage lining. Because you do not have infinite patience, dear reader, we have removed these segments from the published article. You may thank us in unmarked bank notes delivered to our offices.

This article is part of The Daily Princetonian's annual joke issue. Never trust the news.