Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 1000: Extra – Harry Potter

With the start of term approaching at Hogwarts, Diagon Alley had entered its busiest season. Every day, crowds of young witches and wizards poured in through the Leaky Cauldron.

Among all the shops, the most popular destination for young students was—unsurprisingly—the candy store.

And when it came to the most famous candy shop in all of Diagon Alley, that title undoubtedly belonged to the one right next to the ice cream parlor.

Mostly because of its former owner—none other than the wildly popular professional Seeker of recent years, the “Chosen One” himself: Harry Potter.

This time, the nickname “Chosen One” wasn’t just some exaggerated title from years past. To Quidditch fans, he truly lived up to the name.

In the recently concluded Quidditch World Cup, Seeker Harry Potter and his wife Ginny Potter had teamed up to bring home Britain’s first championship in centuries.

Quidditch World Cup Champions.

Even now, many fans still couldn’t quite believe it.

According to rumors, someone had seen Headmistress Minerva McGonagall singing at the top of her lungs in the Astronomy Tower late at night—but whether that was true remained to be confirmed.

Mostly because the person who first spread the story mysteriously vanished the same day.

But regardless, Britain had won. They had finally taken home a Quidditch title—something they hadn’t done in generations.

As a result, Diagon Alley had stayed lively for weeks, and anything even remotely related to Quidditch had become impossible to keep in stock.

Sirius, prompted by a reminder from Lupin, had stocked up on Golden Snitch and broomstick-shaped candies.

Unsurprisingly, thanks to the name Harry Potter, they’d sold like wildfire.

Sirius had made a killing... not that he really cared about the money.

After all, he was probably the only person who’d choose to close his shop for a break during Diagon Alley’s peak season.

“Long time no see, Harry!”

At 12 Grimmauld Place, Sirius released Harry from a firm hug.

Harry had returned after receiving an invitation to attend the Hogwarts Start-of-Term Feast as an outstanding graduate.

He hadn’t hesitated for a second—he’d requested leave from the team and come straight back.

After months of grueling training, he’d been eager for a chance to relax. This felt like the perfect one.

“You’ve really outdone yourself—James never managed to go pro.” Lupin walked over, studying Harry with admiration. “I’ll admit, when you let go of your broom I nearly had a heart attack, but it was absolutely brilliant.”

“I remember that too.” Ron gave him a hearty clap on the shoulder. “Right after England won last year, Minister Bones couldnʼt stop smiling.”

After Harry returned, several old friends who’d caught wind of it also stopped by.

Lupin, Tonks, the entire Weasley family... the big house was packed. And in addition to them were some of Harry’s Quidditch friends—Oliver Wood, Cedric, Harris, and more...

It’s worth noting that after the Voldemort incident had finally come to an end, Cedric had decisively quit his job at the Ministry and joined a professional Quidditch team, becoming a Seeker just like Harry.

The two of them were now rivals.

Unfortunately, Cedric had joined his team a bit later than Harry and missed out on the national team selection, a regret that had stuck with him for quite some time.

Still, when Harry and his team won, Cedric had been genuinely happy for him.

...

The last time 12 Grimmauld Place had been this lively was back when the Order of the Phoenix was still active.

Everyone had lunch together and chatted for hours, only gradually leaving as evening approached.

“By the way...” Harry glanced at Cedric, who had just stepped out the door, then lowered his voice. “Cedric, you came back because of that message too, didn’t you?”

“If you mean Kyle’s letter...” Cedric looked around, then gave a small nod. “Yeah.”

“So the news is real.”

“The Triwizard Tournament—it seems so,” Cedric said, nodding. “I heard from Fred and George that the Ministry’s been unusually busy lately, especially the Department of International Magical Cooperation.”

“Speaking of which, your friend Hermione works there, doesn’t she? You should actually know more than I do.”

“Hermione... yeah, that’s right.” Harry gave an awkward smile.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t asked, but Hermione had only sent back a very short letter:

‘No comment.’

Which made sense. Even though she worked in that department, with her personality, there was no way she’d leak anything—especially something as tightly controlled as the Triwizard Tournament.

“All right.” Cedric glanced at Harry again, seemed to guess the situation based on Hermione’s personality, and didn’t press further.

“Yeah, the tournament’s back,” he said firmly.

Not everyone was as strict about rules as Hermione—take a certain friend of his, for instance.

“Kyle’s Hogwarts’ representative this year. He’s in charge of everything related to the tournament. He invited me to come back and watch.”

“But I thought Headmaster Dumbledore said the Triwizard Tournament had been cancelled?” Harry asked.

After all, Voldemort had taken advantage of that tournament to abduct him and make his return. It had only been restarted once before being shut down again.

“In theory, yeah.” Cedric shrugged. “But Voldemort’s gone, and Kyle thinks the tournament should continue. The International Confederation of Wizards agreed.”

Kyle thinks it should continue, and the Confederation just... agreed?

Harry couldn’t help smacking his lips in disbelief, instantly reminded of how things used to be with Dumbledore.

And last year, at the Quidditch World Cup, Kyle had been seated front row in the top box—right next to the Minister of Magic and the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

And not a single person, not even Minister Bones, seemed to think anything was strange about it.

“Harry, Harry, are you still with me?”

Cedric’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Ah...” Harry looked up quickly. “So, is the Triwizard Tournament being held at Hogwarts again?”

“Of course not,” Cedric said. “The tournament rotates between the three schools. Kyle said this year it’s being hosted at Beauxbatons. He suggested we go as honored alumni, along with Hogwarts’ Champion. What do you think?”

“Sounds great,” Harry nodded with a smile. “I’ve always been curious what Hogwarts uses for transportation. It must be more impressive than boats and carriages, right?”

“Well... if Kyle’s leading the delegation, who knows,” Cedric muttered, rubbing his forehead.

In theory, Hogwarts’ official transport should be the Thestral-drawn carriages.

They might seem common around school—especially for second-years and up, who ride them every term—but in other parts of the world, Thestrals are rare magical creatures. Some countries don’t have a single one.

They made a perfect symbol of Hogwartsʼ prestige.

But this time the delegation leader was Kyle. Cedric had honestly considered the possibility that Kyle might just throw them all on the Knight Bus to France, purely for convenience.

“Forget it... See you then, Harry.” Cedric sighed, trying to suppress the horrifying image of that bus.

“See you,” Harry replied.

“But you’d better disguise yourself,” Cedric added, giving Harry a once-over. “Your fame now probably outshines Viktor Krum’s back in the day.”

Harry tugged at the corner of his mouth, thinking of how terrifying those overly enthusiastic fans had been when he first came back.

The Chosen One, Potter—far more popular than The Boy Who Lived. Even though he kept insisting their World Cup win was mostly luck, no one believed him. No one cared, either.

These days, no matter where he went, someone was asking for an autograph. It was the first time he realized just how many wizards there were in Britain.

“Sometimes I wish I weren’t famous. Honestly, I’d rather be back at Hogwarts this year.”

Half-jokingly, he said, “If I could get past the Age Line, maybe I’d even get picked as a Champion.”

“I think you would,” Cedric said with a grin.

...

A while later, 12 Grimmauld Place had returned to its usual quiet.

After seeing off the last of the guests, Harry and Ginny found Sirius in one of the rooms.

All the furniture had been cleared out—leaving nothing but walls covered in clippings and photos.

All of them featured Harry... and Ginny too.

Every time Harry looked at that wall, he couldn’t help but feel his teeth ache a little.

“I’m begging you, Sirius... can’t you just take all this down?”

“Why? It’s your legacy,” Sirius replied without turning around.

“It’s not about that. I just feel like... never mind.” Seeing Sirius’s clueless expression, Harry let out a sigh and dropped it.

He’d brought it up before. If it were going to work, the room would’ve been cleared long ago.

“I’m planning to go to Beauxbatons for the tournament in a while. Want to come?” he asked, changing the subject.

“If you’ll let me tag along...” Sirius didn’t answer directly, but shot a teasing glance at Ginny.

“Why wouldn’t he? We’re family,” Ginny said before Harry could respond. “Mum and Dad are going too.”

Her tone was matter-of-fact, and Harry nodded right along. “Perfect—you can help out. Those obsessive fans are terrifying.”

“Ah, right...” Sirius looked at Harry and Ginny with a faraway look for a moment, but quickly pulled himself together.

“But,” he said, as if nothing had happened, “I thought you’d be used to fame by now.”

“Voldemort didn’t stick around for two centuries,” Harry said. “In Kyle’s words, winning the Quidditch World Cup is a lot harder than defeating Voldemort.”

At that, he couldn’t help but laugh.

Sirius laughed too.

And honestly, in a way... it kind of felt true.