“Muggle snacks?” Ron perked up immediately.
When it came to eating, Ronald had never lost in his life.
Only Crabbe and Goyle from Slytherin could surpass him in this regard.
“Try this.” Harry pulled out a red soda can and handed it to Ron.
“Wow, it’s Coke,” Seamus exclaimed in surprise. “It’s Coca-Cola, not Pepsi!”
“You like Pepsi?” Harry raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, no, no. How could I like that dishwater?” Seamus said with a disgusted expression.
Harry extended his hand solemnly. Seamus, seeing this, also extended his hand and shook Harry's.
“In that case, we’re good friends now.”
“Friends!” Seamus nodded emphatically in agreement.
The rivalry between Pepsi and Coke was no less intense than the battle between sweet and salty flavors.
“Is this a drink?” Ron curiously examined the can in his hand, pulled the tab, and poured the Coke into a cup.
He stared at the fizzing bubbles, hesitating. “Yikes, this color—is it really drinkable? I mean, I’ve never had anything better than butterbeer.”
“Just try it,” Seamus urged.
Ron picked up the cup, and the potion-like dark color made him hesitate. The bubbling liquid didn’t help either.
“I have to ask, is this stuff really not some kind of potion?”
“Take a sip,” Harry said.
With his friend’s encouragement, Ron put on a brave face. He closed his eyes and took a big gulp.
“So, how is it? Pretty good, right?” Harry raised an eyebrow. “How does it compare to butterbeer?”
“Butterbeer?” Ron took another big gulp of Coke. “What’s that? Doesn’t ring a bell.”
Hearing this, everyone burst into laughter.
Harry then brought out a pile of snacks to share with his new friends. It was their first time meeting, and for most of them, their first day at Hogwarts (except Harry). No one felt like sleeping. They chatted until late into the night before bidding each other goodnight and falling asleep.
The next morning, when Harry stepped out of the dormitory, he noticed a trail of whispers following him.
“That’s the one with glasses. Did you see his scar?” people murmured.
Students from other houses even queued up outside the Gryffindor common room, treating him like a rare exhibit at a zoo. Wherever he went, they followed, whispering behind him with zero regard for boundaries.
Harry didn’t mind. He figured they’d stop once they got used to his presence.
For the new students, the staircases of Hogwarts were their biggest headache. There were a total of 142 staircases.
Some were wide and grand; others narrow and wobbly. Some changed destinations every Friday. Others had steps that vanished halfway up, requiring one to remember where to jump.
There were also countless doors—some that wouldn’t open unless asked politely, others that required you to press a specific spot. Some weren’t doors at all but solid walls pretending to be doors.
Remembering the layout was nearly impossible, as everything seemed to keep moving.
Even the portraits moved around, visiting each other and having lively conversations.
Harry, however, was unfazed. After all, he’d been here for six years. Returning to Hogwarts felt like coming home.
A century ago, he had no home—just like now. If there was a place that gave him a sense of belonging, it was Hogwarts.
Ron, on the other hand, marveled at his friend’s sense of direction. After Harry mentioned he had an excellent sense of direction, Ron accepted it without question.
But the moving staircases weren’t the hardest part for new students. The ghosts were.
Often, just as a student was about to open a door, a ghost would pop out, giving them a fright.
Nearly Headless Nick was always happy to guide Gryffindor first-years, but encountering Peeves the poltergeist was far worse than a locked door or a tricky staircase.
Peeves would drop wastebaskets on your head, yank carpets out from under your feet, throw chalk at you, or sneak up behind you to grab your nose and scream, “Got your nose!”
Some first-years were so tormented by Peeves that they burst into tears, worried they’d be late for class.
Strangely, Peeves never bothered Harry and didn’t even appear in his vicinity.
Ron stuck close to Harry, so much so that he forgot about Peeves entirely.
Since first-years were still adapting to the school, their schedules were light, leaving them plenty of time to explore Hogwarts.
When Harry received the timetable, he couldn’t help but think how times had changed. In Phineas Nigellus Black’s era as headmaster, students wouldn’t have any free time.
“All of you, go learn proper manners! You uncivilized trolls!”
When Harry and Ron arrived at the Transfiguration classroom, only a few students were seated.
It seemed no one had woken up early. Harry thought they might have stayed up late, just like he and Ron had.
On the podium at the front of the room sat a silver-gray tabby cat.
When Harry and Ron entered, the cat’s tail twitched, and its eyes narrowed into slits.
“Wow, it looks like Professor McGonagall brought her cat to class?” Ron grinned and walked forward, seemingly intending to pet the cat. “I bet she plans to use it as a teaching aid.”
Harry quickly grabbed Ron’s arm, sensing something wasn’t right. The markings around the cat’s eyes resembled a pair of square glasses.
He knew those glasses well—the stern Gryffindor Head of House wore them. Could this cat… No, wait. Was Professor McGonagall an Animagus?
The more Harry thought about it, the more likely it seemed. He whispered to Ron, “Sit down, Ron. Even if it’s a teaching aid, I doubt Professor McGonagall would want anyone touching her cat.”
“You’re right.” Ron quickly followed Harry to a seat. He recalled Professor McGonagall’s stern expression and imagined her angry.
“Hiss…” He took a sharp breath, his imagination of an angry McGonagall thoroughly scaring him.
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