Animagus

"Muggle snacks?" Ron's interest was piqued at once.

When it came to eating, Ronald had never lost to anyone in his life.

Only Slytherin's Crabbe and Goyle could defeat him in that regard.

"Try this." Harry pulled out a red can and handed it to Ron.

"Wow, it's Coke." Seamus said in delight. "It's actually Coca-Cola, not Pepsi!"

"You like Pepsi?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, no, no, no. How could I possibly like drinking that dishwater?" Seamus said with a look of disgust.

Harry solemnly held out his hand. Seeing this, Seamus reached out and shook it.

"In that case, we're good friends now."

"Friends!" Seamus nodded emphatically in agreement.

The rivalry between Pepsi and Coca-Cola was no less fierce than the war between sweet and savory flavors.

"This is a drink?" Ron curiously examined the can in his hand, pulled the tab, and poured the cola into a cup.

He stared at the fizzing bubbles and asked hesitantly, "Ugh, with that color, can you really drink it? I mean, I've never had a drink better than Butterbeer."

"Just try it," Seamus said.

Ron picked up the cup. Its pitch-black, potion-like color made him look distinctly unwilling, not to mention the fact that it was still bubbling.

"I have to ask—is this thing really not a potion?"

"Take a sip and see," Harry said.

Since his good friend had said so, Ron could only put on a righteous expression. He closed his eyes and took a huge gulp.

"Wow—" he exclaimed.

"Well? Tastes good, doesn't it?" Harry asked with a raised brow. "How does it compare to Butterbeer?"

"Butterbeer?" Ron took another large gulp of cola. "What's that? Never heard of it."

Everyone burst out laughing at Ron's words.

Harry took out a pile of snacks and shared them with his new friends. It was their first time meeting, and their first time attending school as well—except for Harry. No one wanted to sleep, and they kept chatting until the middle of the night before saying goodnight and falling into a deep sleep.

When Harry left the dormitory the next day, he found that whispers constantly followed behind him—things like, "That one with glasses," and, "Did you see his scar?"

Students from other Houses even lined up outside the Gryffindor dormitory to look at him, as though he were some rare creature in a zoo. Wherever he went, they followed, whispering among themselves behind his back without the slightest sense of boundaries.

He did not care. Once they got used to his presence, they would stop eventually.

What troubled the new students was that Hogwarts had as many as one hundred and forty-two staircases.

Some were broad and grand; others were narrow, small, and rickety. Some led somewhere different every Friday. On some, a step would suddenly vanish halfway up, and you had to remember where to jump.

There were also many doors. Unless you asked them politely to open, or poked exactly the right spot, they would not open for you. Some doors were not real doors at all, but solid walls that only looked like doors. It was not easy to remember where everything was, because everything seemed to be constantly moving. The people in the portraits also visited one another endlessly, and their friendly conversations could even be heard.

Harry was used to it, of course. He had spent six years here, and returning to Hogwarts felt like coming home.

A hundred years ago, he had had no home—just as he did now. If there really was a place where he could feel that he belonged, it was Hogwarts.

Ron was also surprised by how familiar his good friend was with the place, but after Harry said that he simply had an excellent sense of direction, Ron quickly accepted the explanation.

But Hogwarts' paths were not what made the new students suffer the most. Apart from those moving routes, there were also the ghosts—visible, yet impossible to touch.

Often, just as a new student was about to open a door, a ghost would suddenly shoot out from behind it and scare them half to death.

Nearly Headless Nick was naturally happy to guide Gryffindor's new students. But if you were already about to be late for class and happened to run into the prank-loving Peeves, that was even harder to deal with than two locked doors and a trap-filled staircase.

He would dump wastebaskets over your head, yank away the carpet beneath your feet, and throw chalk at you. Or he would sneak up behind you and, when you were not looking, grab your nose and shriek, "Got your nose!"

Several new students even broke down and cried after being tormented by Peeves, because they were about to be late for class.

No one noticed one thing: Peeves seemed never to have pranked Harry, and he did not even appear within Harry's line of sight.

Ron had always walked with Harry, to the point that he had forgotten all about Peeves.

Since the first-year new students had only just arrived and needed time to adapt to and familiarize themselves with the school, their classes were scheduled rather loosely, giving them plenty of time to explore Hogwarts.

(Gryffindor First-Year Timetable, source: Zhihu @Chen Ma)

When Harry received the timetable, he could not help sighing that times had truly changed. Back when Phineas Black was Headmaster, did you think you would have time to rest?

Go learn etiquette, all of you! You uncouth little trolls!

When Harry and Ron arrived at the Transfiguration classroom, only a scattered few people were seated inside.

Looks like no one got up very early, Harry thought. Perhaps, like them, they had chatted until the middle of the night.

A silver-gray tabby cat sat perched on the desk at the front.

When it saw Harry and Ron enter, the cat's tail twitched, and its eyes narrowed into slits.

"Wow, looks like Professor McGonagall brought a cat to class?" Ron grinned as he walked forward, seemingly intending to pet it. "I'd bet, mate, she wants to use this cat as a teaching aid."

Harry quickly grabbed Ron. Something felt off—the markings around that cat's eyes looked like a pair of square spectacles.

Of course he remembered those square spectacles. In fact, their owner was the stern Gryffindor Head of House. Could this cat... No, could Professor McGonagall be an Animagus?

The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed. He lowered his voice and said to Ron, "Sit down, Ron. Even if it is a teaching aid, I don't think Professor McGonagall would want anyone touching her cat."

"You're right." Ron hurriedly sat down beside Harry. He recalled Professor McGonagall's stern expression and, incidentally, imagined what she would look like when angry.

"Hiss..." He drew in a quiet breath. The imagined Professor McGonagall had truly scared him stiff!