Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—founded around 990 AD—is one of the eleven known wizarding schools in the world and is widely regarded as among the finest magical institutions in existence.
During the summer holidays, the vast stone corridors of the castle are usually silent, with only the occasional flutter of owls or the rustling of leaves from the Forbidden Forest breaking the stillness. But this time, something had changed. The quiet of Hogwarts was broken early—by none other than Cedric Diggory.
It was early morning, the sun just beginning to warm the gray sky, when Cedric burst out of the Hufflepuff common room, a cheerful smile spread across his face. He greeted every portrait and ghost along the way, as if each were an old friend.
The first person Cedric encountered was none other than the castle caretaker, Argus Filch.
"Hello, Mr. Filch! I'm Cedric. I checked in early. If there's anything you need help with, don't hesitate to call me!"
Filch narrowed his bulging eyes, which resembled fish bubbles, while clutching his ever-present cat, Mrs. Norris. He regarded Cedric with suspicion.
"I know who you are," he grumbled. "Just follow the school rules and we won't have a problem."
Cedric nodded sincerely. "Of course! I've read Hogwarts: A History thoroughly. I promise to abide strictly by the school rules—you'll never have to worry about me!"
Just then, a subtle chime rang in Cedric's mind.
[Declaration: Advocated abiding by school rules. Experience points +100.]
His grin widened ever so slightly. He loved the feeling of progress—whether in academics, Quidditch, or something else entirely. If it earned him experience points, everyone—even Filch—was a potential ally.
Filch squinted at the boy. Something about Cedric's sunny demeanor made the usually cranky man pause. Over the years, he'd become accustomed to suspicion, glares, and avoidance. Children rarely looked at him kindly. Most feared him; others resented him.
But Cedric's eyes were pure—unclouded by fear or condescension. For a moment, Filch was disarmed. A warmth stirred in his chest, like a dark, hidden creature suddenly exposed to sunlight.
"I... alright then," Filch muttered. "If you ever need anything, come find me. Not many know this place better than I do."
"Thank you, Mr. Filch! See you around!" Cedric gave a cheerful wave before skipping off down the corridor.
[Note: No repeated experience gain from the same interaction in one day.]
Filch stood in stunned silence, watching Cedric's figure disappear around the corner. When he finally turned to leave, his own footsteps felt lighter, almost sprightly.
As Cedric jogged around another corner, a sudden chill washed over him.
He looked up—and there stood Professor Severus Snape, the feared Potions Master, Hogwarts' double agent and misunderstood hero.
Back when Cedric had read the Harry Potter books in his old life, Snape had been a character he first loathed, then pitied, and finally respected deeply. Knowing Snape's hidden pain and loyalty made him see the man in a different light.
"Close your eyes!" Snape snapped, his dark presence expanding like a looming shadow.
Cedric quickly complied, realizing the look of recognition and emotion in his eyes might have been a little too intense. Snape, ever sensitive to perception, had clearly noticed.
"Apologies, Professor Snape," Cedric said politely, adjusting his expression to one of respectful curiosity. "I'm Cedric, here on early check-in. I know you're an expert in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Charms, and Occlumency. I look forward to learning from you."
Snape eyed him warily, scanning him from head to toe. After a moment, he spoke.
"Then perhaps you are not one of the dunderheads I so often encounter."
Cedric smiled. "I don't think I'm stupid, Professor. And I've already begun studying Potions—especially One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi."
Snape raised an eyebrow. "What do you get when you add powdered narcissus root to mugwort infusion?"
"The Draught of Living Death—a powerful sleeping potion," Cedric replied without missing a beat.
"Where would you find a bezoar?"
"In the stomach of a goat—or a cow, to be specific," Cedric responded.
Snape's eyes narrowed, and he upped the ante.
"Give me the recipe for a standard healing potion."
"Two sprigs of wormwood, ten grams of unicorn tail hair, and ten grams of whitegrass."
Snape didn't respond immediately, but something in his gaze softened.
Cedric's answers had gone beyond first-year knowledge. They even surpassed what was typically covered in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, veering into Advanced Potion-Making territory. Clearly, Cedric had studied extensively on his own.
"Very good," Snape finally said. "You may consult me if you have questions. But do not waste my time with foolish ones."
[Passed Professor Snape's test. Experience points +1,000.]
Cedric's heart leapt. The reward was ten times larger than what he had earned earlier. It was nearly half the value of all the points he'd accumulated studying at home before Hogwarts.
He remembered he hadn't triggered any rewards at Professor McGonagall's check-in—it must've been due to the formal nature of the application. But this—this was true student engagement, and the system clearly valued authenticity over obligation.
Cedric's understanding of how the system worked was improving.
Grinning, he thumped his chest playfully. "Don't worry, Professor Snape. I'll make you proud."
Snape allowed himself a tiny twitch at the corner of his lips.
"Confidence... not misplaced," he murmured.
Though the ancient well of his soul remained cold and still, Cedric's warmth had lit a flickering glow inside it—like sunlight reaching into forgotten depths.
And so, within just one morning, the staff of Hogwarts had begun to talk. Whispers floated through the corridors.
There was a boy—a Hufflepuff—who was cheerful, intelligent, respectful, and bright as the sun.
His name was Cedric Diggory.
And even Headmaster Albus Dumbledore had taken notice.