"Trouxie snacks?" Ron immediately perked up.
When it came to solid food, Ronald had never been beaten by anyone in his life.
Only Crabbe and Goyle from Slytherin had ever managed to beat him in that regard.
"Try this," Harry said, pulling out a red can and handing it to Ron.
"Wow, it's cola!" Seamus exclaimed, surprised. "It's Coca-Cola, not Pepsi!"
"You like Pepsi?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Ah, no, no, no. Why would I drink that dirty water?" Seamus said, disgusted.
Harry extended his hand formally, and Seamus shook it.
"Then I guess we're friends."
"Friends!" Seamus nodded emphatically.
The rivalry between Pepsi and Coca-Cola was like a battle between sweet and savory.
"This is a drink?" Ron asked curiously, looking at the can in his hand. He pulled the tab and poured the cola into a cup.
He stared at the fizzing bubbles, hesitating. "Hmm… this color… is it really drinkable? I mean, I've never had anything better than butterbeer."
"Try it," Seamus encouraged.
Following Harry's advice, Ron nervously took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and drank a generous gulp.
"Wow—" he exclaimed.
"And? Good, right?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "How does it compare to butterbeer?"
"Butterbeer?" Ron took another long sip of the soda. "What's that? I don't know it."
Everyone laughed at Ron's confusion.
Harry shared several snacks with his new friends. It was the first time they had all met, and for the first time in Hogwarts (except for Harry), no one wanted to sleep. They stayed up late, chatting and laughing before finally saying goodnight and falling into a deep sleep.
The next morning, as Harry left the dormitory, he noticed whispers following him. Students asked, "Did you see his scar, you with the glasses?"
Even students from other houses lined up outside the Gryffindor dormitory just to catch a glimpse of him, as if he were a rare creature in a zoo. Wherever he went, they followed, whispering among themselves, with no sense of boundaries.
He didn't mind; he assumed they would get used to his presence eventually.
What really bothered the new students was that Hogwarts had a total of 142 staircases.
Some were wide and grand; others were narrow and rickety. Some led to different locations every Friday; some had steps that suddenly vanished halfway up, requiring careful timing to jump over.
There were also countless doors that refused to open unless politely asked or pressed in exactly the right spot; some weren't even real doors at all, just solid walls that looked like doors. Remembering everything was difficult because the castle itself seemed to move constantly. The people in the portraits frequently visited one another, exchanging friendly conversations.
Harry, however, was used to it; after all, he had been here for six years. Returning to Hogwarts felt like coming home.
A hundred years ago, he had no home—just as he did now. If there was any place that truly gave him a sense of belonging, it was Hogwarts.
Ron was equally amazed by Harry's familiarity with the castle, but after hearing about his exceptional sense of direction, he quickly accepted it.
But the moving corridors weren't the most troubling part for the new students. After all, besides the shifting hallways, there were also ghosts—visible yet untouchable.
Frequently, when a first-year approached a door, a ghost would suddenly appear from behind, giving them a fright.
Of course, Nearly Headless Nick was happy to guide the Gryffindor first-years. But if you were late for class and happened to encounter the mischievous Prankster, it was far worse than facing two locked doors and a heavily guarded staircase.
He would throw a trash can at your head, pull the rug from under your feet, fling chalk at you, or sneak up behind you and, when you weren't looking, grab your nose and shout, "Got your nose!"
Several first-years had cried after Prankster's tricks, fearing they'd be late to class.
No one seemed to notice one thing: Prankster never played tricks on Harry, and he never appeared in Harry's line of sight.
Ron followed Harry everywhere, so much so that he had completely forgotten about Prankster.
Since first-years were still getting used to the castle, the schedule was flexible, allowing plenty of time to explore.
(Hogwarts First-Year Timetable, Source: Zhihu @ChenMa)
When Harry received his schedule, he remarked on how times had changed. "Back when Phineas Black was headmaster, did you all think you'd have time to rest? You all, learn some manners! You little monsters!"
When Harry and Ron arrived at the Transfiguration classroom, only a few students were seated.
It seemed no one had woken up very early, Harry thought; perhaps they had stayed up late talking, like they had.
On the front platform sat a silver-gray tabby cat.
When it saw Harry and Ron enter, its tail twitched, and its eyes narrowed.
"Wow, it looks like Professor McGonagall brought her cat to class?" Ron smiled, walking forward, apparently wanting to pet the cat. "Bet she'll use it as a teaching aid."
Harry grabbed Ron quickly; something seemed odd—the markings around the cat's eyes resembled a pair of square spectacles.
He certainly remembered those square glasses; after all, their owner was the stern-looking Gryffindor professor. And if this cat… could it be that Professor McGonagall was an Animagus?
The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed, so he whispered to Ron: "Sit down, Ron. Even if it's for teaching, Professor McGonagall wouldn't want anyone touching her cat."
"You're right." Ron quickly sat beside Harry, recalling the professor's serious expression and imagining her furious reaction.
"Sss…" he hissed softly; the imagined Professor McGonagall was genuinely terrifying!
/------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------/
Read more chapters on my Patreon: https://patreon.com/SailorTranslations?utm_medium=unknown&utm_source=join_link&utm_campaign=creatorshare_creator&utm_content=copyLink