0351 The Second Phase

"Don't you remember!" Harry hastened to explain. "It's been another two weeks. I mean, it's been a month since Professor Watson's physical education class started. He said at the beginning of this class that the first phase would last a month, and then there would be some changes!"

"Which means—" A flush of delight spread across Hermione's rosy cheeks, betraying her true thoughts. "We don't have to—"

Hermione's words trailed off because she noticed Ron grinning at her.

"I think it would be quite good to stick with it," Neville said thoughtfully as he stopped before the Fat Lady's portrait, turning to look at them.

"No one's stopping you from continuing, Neville," Ron said, pursing his lips. "Come on, move aside. I reckon you've forgotten the password again."

Neville was right, though. Over the past few days, even Harry had begun to feel that Professor Watson's class wasn't entirely pointless.

After getting through the initial adjustment period, he could clearly sense an improvement in his energy levels and overall vitality. Now, he no longer felt drowsy as easily, able to resist the urge to doze off even during Snape's Potions class or Professor Binns's ghostly lectures.

As Harry closed his eyes that night, his mind eagerly anticipated the arrival of the new day, despite no longer harboring any resistance or fear toward Professor Watson's Muggle physical education class. Nevertheless, a sense of curiosity and excitement coursed through his veins, fueled by the prospect of the promised changes to the P.E class.

Word had spread—courtesy of an unknown source—about Professor Watson previously purchasing Dungbombs from Zonko's Joke Shop as teaching aids. The following day, the number of young wizards persisting with this class suddenly dropped by one-fifth. Now, half a month later, the original group of around a hundred had dwindled to just over a third of its initial size.

As April arrived, the gentle breeze wafting across the grounds had shed its early morning chill, caressing Harry's hair with a refreshing coolness as it met his face.

Harry squinted at the slightly green dawn, silently adjusting his breathing—a technique he had figured out recently. Proper breathing rhythm could alleviate fatigue during prolonged exercise.

"Let's begin –"

Professor Watson arrived at the training grounds, punctual as always. He seemed unaware that a month had passed, donning one of his usual sports-outfits(tracksuit) as he calmly instructed them.

Harry couldn't hide his disappointment, glancing around to find the other young wizards wearing similar expressions.

"Professor Watson—" Hermione wasn't one to keep her thoughts to herself, furrowing her brow as she raised her hand.

"You see, Professor, if I'm not mistaken –" Hermione paused, drawing in a steadying breath as her bright, inquisitive eyes fixed upon the professor's face. "You mentioned that our phase-based exercises would last a month, after which our class would undergo some changes?"

"Thank you for the reminder, Miss Granger," Professor Watson gave a slight nod. "Yes, that's the plan. Our physical education class is about to enter the next phase. This morning will be your final early-morning run."

Surveying the excited murmurs among the young wizards, Bryan gave a faint smile, deciding not to spoil their good mood for the moment.

"Starting today, we'll move into the second phase of the curriculum, with classes scheduled every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evening from 8 to 9 p.m. in the Maze Classroom."

The Maze Classroom was the same room where, during Harry's second year, Professor Watson had them face off against Inferi. Last term, the engaging "Boat Race" competition had also taken place in that seldom-used classroom.

Upon hearing that their upcoming lessons would be held there, the young wizards could scarcely contain their swelling excitement. After persevering through the grueling initial phase, it seemed that Professor Watson was finally prepared to unveil a more engaging and interesting side of his class.

By the time the lunch hour had drawn to a close, news of Professor Watson's physical education class potentially taking a more intriguing turn had already permeated every nook and cranny of the ancient castle, piquing the curiosity of countless young wizards. However, those who had previously been eligible to participate but had dropped out didn't seem too pleased about missing out.

After dinner, Harry and others hurriedly completed their History of Magic essays within an hour. Then, under Ron's sullen gaze, they hastily left the common room and rushed toward Professor Watson's exclusive classroom.

Whoosh—

As the clock struck the eighth hour of the evening with a resounding chime, the assembled group of young wizards, who had already gathered in the corridor outside, eagerly surged forward, pushing open the classroom door and streaming inside with an air of unbridled anticipation. Once the last student had squeezed through, the newly installed torches that lined the walls of the classroom – which had been magically expanded to a quarter of a mile in length – suddenly flickered to life with a whoosh, bathing the space in a warm, flickering glow. In the sudden illumination, the objects that had been strategically placed along three of the walls emitted a series of distinct clicking sounds, as though awakening from a deep slumber.

"Those are –" Hannah Abbott, from Hufflepuff, opened her mouth in awe, her eyes widening as she gazed upon the polished, glistening metallic surfaces reflecting the flickering flames.

"The armors from the corridor!" Neville exclaimed in horror.

The spacious classroom, illuminated by the flickering golden radiance of torches mounted upon the stone walls, exuded an aura of enigmatic allure and intrigue. This mystical ambiance was further amplified by the imposing suits of armor strategically positioned at precisely measured intervals of ten feet, their metallic forms emitting faint, ominous clanks that reverberated through the chamber.

Neville's shrill cry, laced with unrestrained fear, echoed resonantly, its piercing resonance reverberating off the classroom's walls. The young wizards, their faces etched with nervousness, instinctively huddled together in the center of the room, maintaining a wary distance from the suits of armor that seemed ordinary on any other day but ominous in this setting.

Cho Chang, one of the few remaining Ravenclaw students who had not abandoned Professor Watson's physical education class, found herself seeking support in the crowd. Her inseparable best friend had already quit, and now, with lips drained of color, Cho unconsciously scanned the assembly for a familiar face to anchor her wavering resolve. Her gaze settled upon Harry, but the presence of Hermione by his side dissuaded her from approaching him.

"Is Professor Watson preparing us to battle these suits of armor?"

The Hufflepuffs had the most students remaining. They lacked the courage of Gryffindors, the wisdom of Ravenclaws, and the ambition and thirst for power of Slytherins, but at least most of them possessed the equally rare virtue of perseverance.

Cedric lowered his voice, tinged with fear, but Cho seemed to find her anchor. Her clear eyes, shone with worry. "But how are we supposed to face these suits of armor? I—I left my wand in the dormitory."

"Don't worry—" Despite his ashen complexion betraying his own anxiety, Cedric exuded an air of gentlemanly composure, offering Cho a reassuring smile before casting a wary glance towards the ominous suits of armor, their metallic forms seemingly poised to spring into motion at any moment. "These things don't seem too fast. Hmm, did Professor Watson train us in running so we could successfully evade the pursuit of these suits of armor?"

Fred and George overheard Cedric's remarks and scoffed at him—last term, Cedric's Quidditch team had defeated Gryffindor once, and the Weasley twins still harbored a grudge over it to this day.

"Doesn't feel too good, does it, brother?" Fred said, his brow furrowed. "I remember we locked Filch's cat inside a suit of armor three times. Could it be our turn today?"

"Actually, it was four times, brother," George corrected with a nonchalant shrug. "Last year, Filch went after you, so he sent that malnourished cat after me. Tsk tsk, I almost couldn't get away. Luckily, Peeves helped me out."

Creak!

The classroom door suddenly swung open, its hinges protesting with a piercing groan, as Professor Watson strode in under everyone's gaze, still wearing his sports attire instead of a wizard's robe.

"Roll call now,"

Hermione didn't know if it was her imagination, but she felt Professor Watson was acting differently than usual. While she found herself unable to pinpoint the exact nature of this change, an inexplicable sense of heightened strictness and severity permeated his manner.

Four distinct groups formed naturally. The Hufflepuffs had the longest line, while Ravenclaw, including Cho Chang, had only four students: Cho, Susan Bones, Luna, and one of the Patil twins.

The numbers of Gryffindors and Slytherins remaining were roughly equivalent, with the Gryffindor comprised primarily of Harry's closest friends—Hermione, Ginny Weasley, the ever-mischievous Fred and George, the timid Neville Longbottom, Parvati Patil, and two young witches from the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

Unsurprisingly, Draco Malfoy's distinctive platinum-blond hair style was visible amidst the Slytherin group. Aside from the hulking, gorilla-sized Marcus Flint, the majority of the remaining Slytherins were Malfoy's year-mates. Crabbe and Goyle, Malfoy's ever-present cronies, had already abandoned the class, and Harry couldn't help but ponder whether their absence might be a contributing factor to Malfoy's uncharacteristic restraint in provoking him during Professor Watson's class; after all, Slytherins seem to possess an innate talent for sizing up a situation and acting accordingly.

"First, I want to congratulate you all—" Professor Watson clasped his hands behind his back, his penetrating gaze sweeping over the assembled students.

"The past month has been both training and a test for you. Those of you standing before me now have passed the training and the test, meaning you possess certain qualities worth cultivating—"

No one whispered; everyone listened intently to Professor Watson's words.

"—So, from now on, you will undergo more professional training. Of course, I need to make one thing clear: starting from this moment, you will be deprived of the right to quit. Everyone must persevere until the final stage until this training is over. Additionally, the entire cycle will likely last about a year."

"But Professor Watson—" Considering the harshness of the past month's training and the ominous presence of the suits of armor within this room, Hermione asked thoughtfully, "What kind of improvement do you hope for us to achieve?"

"I'm sure you've been troubled by this question for a long time, haven't you?" Professor Watson finally showed a slight smile on his face, raising his head to listen to the young wizards's murmuring discussion. He nodded, pacing before them with his hands clasped firmly behind his back.

"All this time, Hogwarts has lacked a systematic course teaching young wizards how to fight—"

Professor Watson's words ignited a flurry of hushed whispers and exclamations among the students. Their private speculations had proven accurate after all—the professor who could single-handedly defeat nearly a hundred werewolves was indeed going to teach them how to fight?

Harry didn't quite agree with Professor Watson's statement, as Hogwarts had Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and that charlatan Lockhart had even held a Dueling Club once. But then again, Defense Against the Dark Arts focused primarily on countering Dark magic and dealing with dangerous creatures, while the one-time Dueling Club was a joke.

"This course has never existed before, so no one knows how to conduct it. Therefore, based on my personal experience, I have designed some teaching plans. You are the first batch. If it succeeds with you, then this course may be permanently retained."

"But Professor—" Cedric raised his hand eagerly. "How do you define success? I mean, what level of skill do you think we need to attain to prove this course is successful?"

"Hmm, good question, Mr. Diggory—" Bryan stroked his chin thoughtfully, his brow furrowing as he pondered the query. "I think at least being able to defeat a wizard of Professor Black's caliber in a duel would be considered qualified."

"We couldn't possibly!" Harry immediately exclaimed, his voice thick with disbelief, and most of the young wizards wore expressions of amused incredulity upon their faces.

Defeat Professor Black in a duel? Oh, if they truly reached that level, they could probably follow Professor Watson in overthrowing the Ministry of Magic's rule!

"One must have dreams, Mr. Potter," Professor Watson said, his lips curving into an enigmatic smile. "What if you achieved it?"

The young wizards laughed even harder, except for Hermione and Luna, who both sensed that Professor Watson wasn't entirely joking.

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