“That’s not how you become a leader,” Tris scoffed.
“What do you mean?” Blaise asked with a frown, clearly confused.
“A true leader leads by example and personal charisma, inspiring others to follow voluntarily. You don’t command loyalty through schemes or backhanded tricks.”
Blaise and Theodore looked utterly baffled, both of their faces blank.
Tris gave their vacant expressions a look of mild disdain, considered for a moment, and said, “You know Voldemort, right?”
“You!” Theodore’s face turned deathly pale.
His mouth popped open, his eyes wide with shock.
Though Blaise’s dark complexion hid any change in color, his eyes and mouth were just as wide.
Tris understood why they reacted that way.
Even though Voldemort had fallen ten years ago, the wizarding world was still terrified to speak his name.
Even staunch opponents like the Weasleys avoided saying it outright.
Whenever Tris was in front of his parents, he never used Voldemort’s name, substituting “the Dark Lord” instead.
Having both grown up in wizarding households, Blaise and Theodore were equally incapable of hearing that name without flinching.
Ignoring their shock, Tris continued, “Even Voldemort relied on displaying astonishing talent during his days at Hogwarts to attract a huge following. He didn’t start out demanding obedience with ruthless cruelty.”
“How… how could you—how dare you speak that name!” Blaise stammered out first, pointing a trembling finger at Tris, nearly jumping out of his skin.
“Ha! You don’t even dare utter the name of a guy who was defeated ten years ago, and you want to be a leader?” Tris made no effort to hide his mockery.
“With backbone like that, you’d better go home and raise pigs.”
Without waiting for a response, he grabbed his pajamas and headed into the bathroom.
Tris was fairly thorough when taking a shower, but he was still a boy, so he finished washing up and stepped out before long.
He found Blaise and Theodore sitting on their respective beds, still looking thoroughly stunned and bewildered.
Guessing his words had dealt a small dose of existential shock to the two, Tris didn’t bother engaging any further.
He climbed into bed to sleep.
Tomorrow, his life as a student would officially begin.
And then there was the workout quest required by the System.
Previously, he had spread the workout tasks across the entire day, keeping the intensity relatively low.
But completing them outside of class hours meant he’d have to crank up the pace.
Seeing his two roommates still lost in thought with no intention of turning off the lights, Tris shook his head helplessly.
He picked up his wand from beside his pillow and gave it a gentle flick.
The sleep mask he had prepared earlier on the nightstand flew over and settled over his eyes.
Perhaps he was truly exhausted from the long train ride, or maybe it was the fifty push-ups taking their toll, but the moment Tris’s head hit the pillow, he fell fast asleep.
He remained completely unaware of the complex expressions on Blaise and Theodore’s faces after witnessing his casual display of magic.
He slept dreamlessly through the night and woke up early the next morning.
Whether Blaise and Theodore had slept poorly or their body clocks hadn’t kicked in yet, they were both sleeping like dead pigs.
Lacking basic consideration, Tris made no effort to keep quiet.
He got up and washed at his normal volume—just as he used to do at The Burrow, where he intentionally woke Ron up every morning.
Yet neither Blaise nor Theodore showed any signs of waking up.
*Hope you two don’t end up being late,* Tris thought.
He stepped out to go for a run.
Jogging in a loop around Hogwarts castle (excluding the grounds and hunting grounds), Tris kept an eye on his System panel.
By the time he completed three-quarters of the lap, he had already satisfied the System’s requirement.
The current daily jogging task was 1.1 kilometers.
Judging by this, a single circuit around just the castle was roughly 1.5 kilometers.
It would be far larger if he included the grounds and the shore of the Black Lake.
*Right then, from now on I’ll jog one lap around the castle and walk two.
That’ll easily clear the requirement every time.* This story is hosted at g.com.
*What?
Exceeding the target?*
*That’s right, overachieving is the point!* Tris figured that if the System was going to grind him down, why shouldn’t he counter-grind the System?
The System’s response: *Lol.*
As Tris was walking around the castle, a tall boy caught up from behind and slowed down beside him.
“Hi, good morning,” the boy greeted Tris.
The boy looked to be around thirteen or fourteen, already nearly six feet tall, with a well-proportioned, athletic build.
He had short black hair, gray eyes, a high nose bridge, and thin lips—a very sunny, handsome lad.
“Good morning,” Tris replied politely in turn.
“You’re a first-year, right? I saw you at the Sorting Ceremony yesterday. A Weasley in Slytherin—that’s certainly rare,” the boy said, then offered an apologetic smile.
“Ah, forgot to introduce myself. I’m Diggory—Cedric Diggory.”
“Cedric Diggory?” Tris raised an eyebrow.
He naturally remembered the name.
Cedric was Hogwarts’ official champion in the Triwizard Tournament in the fourth movie.
Brilliant grades, immensely popular throughout the school, especially in Hufflepuff.
Judging by his character, he was a kind, upright young man.
Describing him as an exemplary student both academically and morally was no exaggeration whatsoever.
Unfortunately, despite not being part of the main party, he got entangled with the protagonist and ended up killed by Wormtail’s Killing Curse.
*Well, kid, you’re in luck.
You met me, so your fate is definitely changing,* Tris thought, looking at Cedric.
He had already laid out a plan: expose Wormtail during one of the early Transfiguration classes.
Without Wormtail, this handsome guy wouldn’t have to die, right?
After introducing himself, Cedric noticed Tris looking at him with a strangely complex stare, leaving him a bit baffled.
Tris’s gaze was far too odd, a mix of tangled emotions.
Cedric wasn’t particularly skilled at reading subtle expressions, but he was certain of one thing: this first-year knew who he was.
“You know me?” Cedric asked.
“Yeah. Mr. Diggory works with my dad,” Tris replied with a smile, regaining his composure.
“Ah, right! I almost forgot Mr. Weasley works at the Ministry of Magic too,” Cedric realized, his cheeks flushing slightly.
Our young Cedric was overthinking things.
He assumed Tris knew of him because his father had been bragging about him again—something that had happened more times than he could count.
Mr. Diggory was immensely proud of his son.
In truth, Cedric really was the ideal “neighbor’s kid”—top of his class, well-mannered, and great at sports, especially Quidditch.
Having such a star child of his own, it was only natural that Mr. Diggory burst with pride.
And by extension, praising him to everyone he met was second nature.
Cedric assumed Tris had heard his father boasting about him, which explained that strange look earlier, leaving him suddenly embarrassed.
“Um, well, I still have a bit more running to do, so I’ll head off first. See you around!” With that, he turned, picked up his pace, and bolted ahead.
Leaving Tris standing there in absolute confusion.
Calling Cedric fair-skinned was no exaggeration—his face was almost absurdly pale.
It was quite a sight, given that he looked sturdy and clearly worked out regularly.
How he managed to stay that fair was a mystery.
In contrast, Tris had only trained for a month over the holiday and already had a thoroughly tanned face.
Because Cedric was so pale, his blush stood out vividly.
Even though Cedric had turned and sprinted off immediately, Tris caught it clearly.
Tris had never even met Cedric’s father, so he had zero inkling of what was going through the boy’s head.
*What on earth?*
*What the hell is going on?*
*On the train ride here, Neville came out with that bizarre comment, and now Cedric blushes the moment he talks to me.
Do I have some kind of male-magnet aura or something?*
*I know Britain has a rep for being pretty gay, and the British wizarding world even more so, but surely it isn’t this absurd?*
*Am I just cursed to suffer like this because I was born too handsome?*
Shameless as ever, Tris shivered and hurriedly banished those horrific thoughts from his mind.
*No way.
I can’t let my Hogwarts life devolve into some trashy BL novel.*
With his mind thoroughly corrupted, Tris finished his final lap and walked back to the castle to eat breakfast in the Great Hall.
In the Great Hall, he bumped into Harry and Ron.
“Tris, did you go for a morning run again?” Ron asked, looking at Tris, who was dripping with sweat.
“Yeah,” Tris said, flopping down beside Ron, grabbing a roll off the table, and stuffing it straight into his mouth.
“Um…” An older Gryffindor boy sitting nearby frowned slightly and couldn’t help chiming in.
“Excuse me, mate, but this is the Gryffindor table.”
“Oh.” Tris remembered he was supposed to be a Slytherin.
Without arguing, he got up to walk over to the Slytherin side, not forgetting to toss back at Ron, “You two shouldn’t just stuff your faces. Didn’t we agree back then that you’d train with me once we got to Hogwarts?”
“Uh…” Both Ron’s and Harry’s eyes darted around evasively.
Back at The Burrow, when Tris asked them to work out together, Harry had actually followed along for a whole month, going from sore muscles and leg cramps at first to gradually adjusting.
Though he didn’t train as intensely as Tris, he had genuinely kept up with the exercise.
Thanks to that, Harry clearly felt his physical fitness had improved significantly compared to before.
He had indeed promised earlier that once they got to Hogwarts, he’d let Tris keep leading his workouts.
Ron had made similar noises, but after jogging the first day and finding his legs too sore to lift the second, he had quit.
When Tris mocked him, Ron had merely claimed the summer heat was too unbearable, insisting he’d definitely train with them once they reached Hogwarts.
Now that Tris was actually calling them on it, both of them began to hesitate.
They both liked the results—pecs, abs, and all that.
But the grueling exertion?
Not only did Ron hate it, but even Harry wasn’t particularly fond of it.
Noticing their noncommittal silence, Tris turned back, looked at their evasive eyes, and delivered a killer blow: “Tomorrow morning at six o’clock, I expect to see you at the castle entrance.”
“I hope you two can act like men and stick to your word.”
“I am a man, of course!” Ron rarely used his head outside of playing chess, yet his reflexes were remarkably quick—he blurted it out without thinking.
Harry glanced at Ron, then at Tris, and could only nod.
“Alright, we’ll be there tomorrow morning.”
Tris nodded in satisfaction.
Plenty of onlookers were watching, including quite a few girls.
He was confident that Harry and Ron, being so sensitive about their pride, would grit their teeth and run with him tomorrow morning no matter how hard it was to get out of bed.
*What’s the fun in grinding alone?*
*You’ve gotta drag everyone else down into the grind with you!*
*Can’t be the only overachieving try-hard around here~*
He walked over to the Slytherin table and sat down.
In those few steps, he had already devoured the first roll, and he picked up another from the table.
“Hey! Move further away!”
Just as Tris was settling into a spot, an intensely disgusted female voice sounded from beside him.
Turning his head, he saw Pansy Parkinson looking at him with sheer revulsion, covering her nose with one hand and waving the other like she was swatting a fly.
“You smell revolting! Get away from me, you’re completely ruining my appetite!”