Woken in the Middle of the Night, He Was in No Mood to Make Way for the Chosen One

Cedric hurried down the stairs, his footsteps quick and sharp, but the crowd below didn't notice him.

The drunken wizards who usually gathered to brag were all on their feet today, packed into a tight circle and chattering about who knew what.

Cedric could make out one exceptionally tall figure. Among the wizards, he stood out like a lighthouse. He had to be at least three meters tall.

Three meters? Even if you were Godzilla reincarnated and fifty meters tall, you had no right to disturb my sleep.

Seeing that the wizards still hadn't noticed him, Cedric pressed his wand to his throat.

Sonorus. A spell he'd just learned.

"What are you doing?"

His piercing voice exploded through the bar. Every wizard in the circle clapped their hands over their ears and looked up, searching for whoever had shouted.

Then they spotted Cedric at the foot of the stairs, wearing pajamas under his coat and glaring at them.

Oh, no... We woke him up.

Ron, the bar's owner, quickly shot the stunned wizards a look.

Those who'd made a racket before had been warned by Ron and lost a good meal over it. They all shut up at once and sat properly in their seats, like schoolchildren caught misbehaving by their teacher.

The bar, which moments ago had sounded like a fan meet-and-greet, fell quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

As the crowd parted, the people they'd surrounded came into view.

The towering man needed no introduction. He'd been visible from the start.

Only now did Cedric see the skinny little boy beside him.

The boy wore glasses and craned his neck toward the stairs, looking as though he had no idea what had happened.

At the sight of the familiar pair, Cedric's irritation at being woken cleared his head for a moment.

Oh. Come to think of it, it's late July.

So that giant must be Rubeus Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper sent to fetch Harry Potter?

Right. This guy's my "rival."

Cedric gave Hagrid a long look.

A gamekeeper? He's there to keep people like me in check, isn't he?

Besides, from what Cedric remembered of the books, Hagrid was a fanatical advocate for the protection of Fantastic Beasts. That made him even harder to stomach.

Those beasts looked so delicious, yet Hagrid refused to eat them and protected them instead. What could be a bigger waste?

One day, Cedric would have to show Hagrid just how delicious Fantastic Beasts could be.

As for the little runt beside him...

Cedric glanced at the tiny boy tucked so close to Hagrid that he was easy to miss.

His slight frame made it obvious that Harry Potter was malnourished. He hadn't had the chance to grow properly.

They were the same age, yet Cedric was a whole size broader than him.

Still, Cedric had nothing much to say to Harry Potter.

Harry had been born with a mission. He was the Chosen One.

He probably had little in common with someone like Cedric, who spent his days thinking about food and making money.

With that thought, Cedric gave Harry Potter a small nod, turned around, and headed back upstairs.

Time to go back to sleep.

A child needed enough sleep to grow. If he wore himself out and ruined his chances with the older girls—and the girls his own age—that would be a terrible loss.

Only after Cedric disappeared up the stairs did Hagrid come out of his daze.

"Ron, who was that boy?"

Hagrid scratched his head.

Perhaps he'd imagined it, but he could have sworn the good-looking boy had glared at him. Had Hagrid frightened him?

"You don't know who he is? You must've been busy lately if you haven't heard what's been happening in Diagon Alley."

Ron chuckled.

"And don't call him a boy. He's starting at Hogwarts this year too, but you'd best be polite and call him 'sir.'

"He's quite something. Right now, he's the biggest star in Diagon Alley."

"A star?"

Hagrid nodded thoughtfully.

The boy had been good-looking. Even Hagrid, whose taste was a little odd, had to admit that.

"So has he made something remarkable?"

The wizarding world had stars too. There were the famous Weird Sisters, for instance. They used banshees as their gimmick and played genuine death rock. Their lead singer, Myron Wagtail, was a household name.

Beside him, Harry Potter's eyes widened at Ron's introduction. He pricked up his ears, wanting to know just who this person his own age was.

From the moment he'd seen Cedric, Harry had felt a stab of inferiority, as though a knife had pierced the heart that already believed he was worth nothing.

Cedric was so good-looking, carried himself with such an air of refinement, and seemed so respected—at least to Harry.

Even his coat looked astonishingly fine.

Harry would have sworn that Aunt Petunia's most treasured evening gown wasn't half as beautiful as that coat.

Longing welled up in Harry's heart.

If only I could be like him.

By then, Harry had already made Cedric the person he wanted to catch up to.