Imagine Ron Weasley introducing you to Butterbeer.
“Come on, you’ve got to try it.” Ron pushed forward the large glass of Butterbeer closer to you, a bit of the foam from the surface splashing onto the wooden table. He didn’t even sweat it, napkins were enchanted to come and clean up whatever was spilt immediately.
“This is too much Ron, I don’t know if I’ll like it and then you just paid for nothing.” You protested.
“I’ll just drink it,” He said, ignoring that he had a full one of his own. “Or I’ll give it to Seamus or Neville or something to drink, but you’ve got to at least try it.”
You finally gave in. What could a sip hurt? It clearly wasn’t poisoned or else Ron wouldn’t have given it to you. You raised the cup slowly, let the glass go between your lips and poured the frothy liquid right on down.
It took a minute for the taste to really register, and your face started to turn a bit red. Ron knew that look and laughed, clapping as he did so. “Told you so, told you so. Drink up, there’s still loads of sweets at Honeydukes you have to try.”
