Quidditch match on Polk Place, anyone?

I pulled out my Marauder’s Map yesterday, (you probably call it a “campus map”), and decided it’s time to come clean: UNC students, we go to Hogwarts.

The twisted arrangement of corridors and rooms in Davis Library is reminiscent of an ancient castle. Why are there so many locked doors, hidden towers and staircases to nowhere?

The torturous staircases occasionally deposit you in a small first floor hallway with no access to any of its doors. Of the study rooms on the upper floors, 90 percent are locked at all hours.

And of the brave souls who venture around the building at 11 p.m., how many have probed the seventh floor bookshelves to locate a text when suddenly — bzz! — the light above fizzles and dies?

It is no coincidence that students often refer to Davis as “the dungeon.” Where else would Snape hold his Potions classes if he suddenly apparated onto campus? Only the dark, echo-less depths of Davis would be halfway appealing to his greasy, monotonous self.

No need to continue questioning the abundance of locked entrances on floors three through eight. You obviously have not offered the proper passwords to enter the Houses’ common rooms (and I’m not telling).

Ever wanted to visit Fluffy, the three-headed dog? Listen to the elevator buzzing between floors and go with the loudest one. Bring a flautist.

Should you be so bold as to investigate the eighth floor and peer behind a particular sliver of glass of one of the spiral staircases, why, my friend, you have just located Dumbledore’s office.

Sit for a spell in the first floor reference section, beneath the curved glass ceiling, and take heart that you are within the vicinity of the Great Hall with its chameleon abilities.

If you sometimes replace a book in the wrong area of a shelf and suddenly see a movement from the corner of your eyes, you have spied Madam Pince silently admonishing your erroneous ways.

And should you need more proof our campus shields a population of Quidditch-obsessed magicians, meander to the end of Gimghoul Road. How many universities host a legitimate castle in their midst?

If you do not know what I am talking about, stop reading now, silly Squib.

You probably saw the “No Trespassing” sign squelched into the earth at the cusp of Gimghoul Road. Perhaps you obeyed it and stared wistfully at the castle before walking away.

Well, that was stupid. “No Trespassing” signs are just the Wizards trying to shoo away annoying Muggles. Anybody who attended the Quidditch World Cup knows that.

The Order of the Gimghoul, UNC’s supposed secret society, is headquartered in that castle — or so they want you to think.

But the Marauder’s Map never lies, children. And yesterday I saw a dot labeled Neville Longbottom on the outskirts of the castle, probably gathering some Mandrakes. They are in season, you know.