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🕑 Added 2025-02-01 10:32:21 +0000 UTC"Ugh!" The rasping sound of intense retching echoed through the classroom as Ron's exhausted body collapsed heavily to the cold, hard ground. His muscles were pushed far beyond their limits and they refused to cooperate as he lay there, completely unable to muster the strength to get up.
Harry's concerned gaze flicked to his watch; precisely twenty minutes had passed since Ron began the dodging training.
The sight before them was a far cry from the determined, if somewhat nervous, Ron who had started this training session. His red hair was now disheveled with sweat and dirt, plastered to his forehead. The stench of Dungbomb juice permeated the air, its liquid coating Ron's remaining robes and seeping into his skin.
Thin streams of vomit trickled from the corners of his mouth, dripping onto the stone floor and mingling with the disgusting puddles surrounding him. The disgusting liquid made Ron try his utmost to avoid it, but the swelling pain in many parts of his body had almost deprived him of the ability to move. Lying on the ground, he could do nothing but twitch like he was having a seizure.
Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance, their eyes filled more with sympathy rather than pity. After all, Ron's miserable appearance reminded them of when they first started training.
It was time to call it a day—
Hermione and Harry reached an agreement with their eyes and walked over to Ron. Hermione took out her wand and pointed it at Ron, who was lying on the ground with a bruised and battered face, drenched in sweat.
"Scourgify!"
An invisible force seemed to sweep over Ron's body, meticulously erasing the layers of filth that clung to him. However, the spell's effectiveness was not absolute; while the worst of the filth had been cleared away, Ron's clothing remained drenched in sweat, clinging to his skin.
"Come on, Ron—"
Harry carefully helped the nearly unconscious Ron up, then squatted behind him, reaching his hands under Ron's armpits to support his body. He slowly dragged him to a chair that Hermione had summoned with a Summoning Charm from a neat stack against one of the classroom walls.
"How are you feeling, Ron?" Harry's brow furrowed with concern as he gripped Ron's shoulders, ensuring that he remained upright in the chair rather than slumping to the floor in a boneless pile.
Ron's only response was a string of unintelligible mumbles, his words were slurred and barely audible.
"Have some water; it will make you feel better—" Hermione's soothing tone hid the worry in her eyes as she pointed her wand at Ron's pale, cracked lips.
A slender stream of cool, clear water materialized, gently flowing into Ron's mouth. As the water trickled down his dry throat, a flicker of clarity seemed to return to Ron's eyes. He parted his lips, and actively swallowed the water in small, desperate gulps.
"Huff...hiss—" Ron's heavy breathing filled the room.
His heaving chest and the rapid expansion and contraction of his lungs towed painfully at his abused muscles. With each breath, the throbbing ache of his injuries intensified, sending shockwaves of agony through his oversensitized nerves and made him grimace in agony.
Minutes ticked by; the silence broken only by Ron's gradually steadying breaths. Finally, after some minutes, he managed to regain a little of control over his body. With a weak nod to Harry, Ron indicated that he no longer required support. Carefully, he leaned back in the chair, resting his head against the wood as he fought to gather his scattered thoughts.
"How did I do?" The question was barely a whisper, Ron's voice was very thin with fatigue.
"Excellent!" Harry's exclamation rang with genuine admiration, his eyes shining with pride.
To be honest, if it were the old Ron, even if he didn't give up immediately after experiencing the power of those Dungbombs, he would have complained bitterly or shouted about quitting right after training. But now, he had surprised them both with his resilience. Also, the fact that his first sentence was asking about his performance, which again surprised both Harry and Hermione.
"You've impressed me, Ron!" Hermione brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, revealing a warm, sincere smile.
Despite the praise from his friends, Ron's response was a weak smile and a slight shake of his head.
"This is insane," he breathed, his voice tinged with disbelief. "I can't imagine how you managed to endure this... It's a miracle that no one has been seriously injured or worse in Professor Watson's class with this brutal training method."
"The key is—" Harry's wry smile spoke of hard-earned wisdom. "Professor Watson isn't easy to deal with. Once you enter the second stage of training, he refuses to allow anyone to quit. Padma, Parvati's sister, even wanted to ask Professor Flitwick to let them escape from P.E. class... but in the end, she seemed to have given up on that idea."
"Oh—" Hermione shrugged. "Actually, Padma did approach Professor Flitwick. She told him that the intensity of the P.E. class made it impossible for her to focus on her other subjects. Professor Flitwick, in turn, privately discussed the matter with Professor Watson. However, Professor Watson told him that unless they kicked him out of Hogwarts, he would not permit any young wizard who had entered the second stage of training to leave his class."
Harry's stunned expression prompted Hermione to add, with an air of innocence, "Luna told me—"
In reality, Ron's performance during his first training session, while not exceptional, was entirely expected. Even those considered naturally gifted in this area, such as Luna and Neville, had struggled tremendously during their initial attempts. The simple fact that Ron had not immediately submitted to despair and given up after the tormenting experience was, in itself, a significant achievement.
Harry and Hermione, veterans of the training's aftermath, were well-versed in treating the various external injuries that inevitably followed each session. While the wounds often appeared severe, a simple application of dittany was usually sufficient to mend the damage.
Hermione took out the vial of dittany from her bag and handed it to Harry before excusing herself momentarily. Harry gently guided Ron to lie face-down on a nearby desk, ordinarily used for their dueling theory lessons.
With careful, experienced movements, he began applying the healing essence to Ron's beaten back. Once he had finished, he left the remaining dittany for Ron, who had regained some measure of mobility, to handle for his own wounds.
As the sun dipped lower on the horizon, its weak, waning rays quickly succumbed to the biting chill of the howling north wind, and the grounds of Hogwarts grew colder. The Black Lake finally froze over completely in the extremely low temperature.
The cold forced many young wizards to leave the grounds outside and seek shelter from the cold inside the castle. However, some daring students actually jumped into the surface of the frozen Black Lake to ice skate, and their heroic appearance won cheers from the students watching the excitement on the lakeshore.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione paused by a large, frost-rimmed window, watching the spontaneous skating exhibition on the Black Lake's frozen surface. They remained there, staring at the scene, until Filch, alerted to the commotion, came huffing and puffing down to the shore. His irritated shouts and wild gestures finally convinced the skaters to abandon their fun and make their way back to solid ground.
"I feel much better!" Ron declared, relief evident in his voice as he cautiously stretched his arms, assessing his condition after the brief breather.
"All right, let's call it a day—" Harry glanced at his watch once more, noting the time. "We still have a bit before dinner starts. It should be enough for us to squeeze in today's running drills and grab a hot shower back in the dormitory—"
Hermione nodded in agreement with Harry's suggestion. Ron, however, gave a wary glance around the room, his eyes falling upon the enchanted armor that had so brutally battered him moments ago.
A flicker of fear appeared across his face, but surprisingly, it was accompanied by a glimmer of lingering desire. However, he was well aware that he couldn't train himself into a 'master' overnight.
With a resigned sigh, Ron made his way to the starting line, and bent to retrieve the robes and cloak he had discarded earlier. As he began to slip his arm into the first sleeve—
Click—
The sudden sound of the classroom door swinging open caught them all off guard. Three figures, eager to escape the severe cold, quickly slipped inside, pulling the door shut behind them. As they turned to survey the room, their eyes fell upon Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who had been moments away from leaving.
In the span of a heartbeat, the atmosphere within the classroom seemed to freeze, the temperature plummeting to match the icy chill outside. Ron, halfway through donning his clothing, stood motionless, his arm suspended in midair. Harry and Hermione, their attention now focused solely on the newcomers, tensed subtly.
Draco's gaze rested on Harry with a slightly indifferent look, while Pansy Parkinson looked suspiciously at Hermione with a contemptuous expression. On the other hand, Astoria from the Greengrass family had a gentle temperament and showed no hostility towards the three Gryffindors.
Harry and Malfoy stared at each other, their thoughts drifting for a moment.
Although they encountered each other several times a week in various classes, it seemed that the last time they confronted each other in private like this was at the beginning of the term. At that time, the Daily Prophet had gotten Mr. Weasley's name, and Malfoy had ridiculed Ron with sarcasm.
The conflict even involved Professor Watson and Moody. The two professors had put on a "not-so-spectacular" confrontation in front of everyone. The reason it was called "not-so-spectacular" was that Professor Watson had easily made Professor Moody look very embarrassed with just a casual spell.
After that incident, Malfoy seemed to lose his enthusiasm for creating conflicts as he used to. Moreover, not long after, when Malfoy was at school, he spent more time with Parkinson and Greengrass than with Crabbe and Goyle.
All these changes stemmed from the beginning of the third stage of teaching in Professor Watson's P.E. class.
Draco easily noticed the wariness and disgust in Harry's eyes. At Hogwarts, only Harry Potter would stare at him with such eyes, which made him feel a surge of annoyance. However, after lingering in his heart for a few seconds, Draco didn't immediately lash out. He shifted his gaze from Harry, pausing on Hermione for only a second before settling on that Blood Traitor.
"What's the matter, Weasley?"
Easily noticing something was amiss, Draco looked at Ron, the corners of his mouth involuntarily revealing a hint of mockery.
"Having second thoughts?"
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