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"One, never go to school on an empty stomach."
"Two, make the most of good weather to dry your clothes."
"Three, pay attention to passing vehicles when crossing the road."
"Four, do not rely on the strength of others."
"Five, do not walk barefoot on the ground."
Five sentences. Five slogans.
They came out of Malfoy's mouth as he ran, repeating them over and over again.
At first glance, the five sentences sounded a bit childish. But in reality, they carried deeper meanings.
Not going to school on an empty stomach meant that before doing anything, one had to be fully prepared. Otherwise, it was very likely that all effort would collapse at the final moment.
Making the most of good weather to dry clothes represented the importance of seizing opportunities and developing one's strengths without letting chances slip away.
Paying attention to vehicles when crossing the road implied that every detail must be considered when doing something. Nothing could be overlooked, and one had to remain cautious, because success or failure often depended on the smallest details.
Not relying on the strength of others was about handling one's own matters. No matter the situation, one must rely on their own strength, because the sense of accomplishment from doing something alone could never be replaced.
Not walking barefoot on the ground symbolized the need to always have a safeguard, to protect oneself and remain cautious. One must always be prepared and never let their guard down.
These five sentences had another name.
The Five Supreme Oaths.
In practice, however, Malfoy was only shouting them out of reflex. By the second lap, his mind had already become muddled and unfocused. Sweat rolled down his forehead, his face flushed red, his throat felt like it was burning, and his entire body felt like it was on fire from the inside. His legs felt as heavy as lead.
By the time he finished the second lap, Draco felt that every step—and even every breath—was incredibly difficult. His body seemed to have reached its limit, as if it were about to collapse.
However, every time he felt he had reached his limit, a spoon would strike the top of his head with perfect precision. Pain was his first reaction, but along with it came a faint electric-like sensation, followed by a warmth like sunlight, allowing him to keep going.
At one point, when he glanced back absentmindedly, Malfoy thought he saw a faint glow in Dudley's hand.
Magic?
He didn't know. At that moment, there was only one thought in his mind.
Finish the training.
When Malfoy completed the third lap, Dudley stopped him just as he was about to keep running.
"That's enough for today. Although it took longer than I expected."
From seven to ten.
It had taken a full three hours.
And that was still under Dudley's supervision. Without him, it would likely have taken more than three times as long.
Malfoy's awareness gradually returned, and his mind began to clear.
"I… did it?"
His eyes widened, his pale face slightly flushed with disbelief.
"Congratulations on sticking it through. Not bad. You've got more perseverance than I expected."
Dudley didn't hesitate to praise him.
Only then did Malfoy truly believe he had done it. At that moment, warmth spread through his body, and he felt like he had broken through to a new level.
"I did it… on my own."
As the only son of the Malfoy family, he had always been pampered. His parents, relatives, and even family friends treated him with great care, and among his peers, he was always the center.
"You were born noble. You are pure-blood. You are superior to other wizards."
These were the words Lucius had taught him since childhood.
Growing up in that environment, it was only natural that Malfoy developed a terrible temperament, becoming nothing more than a spoiled child.
And someone like that had never set real goals for himself, nor worked to achieve them. Most of the time, all he had to do was speak, and his family would provide everything.
That was why Malfoy had never experienced this feeling.
The feeling of surpassing himself.
Only those who enjoy training and pushing their limits understand it.
It was exhausting.
But it felt good.
That was the charm of physical training.
"This potion will relieve your muscle fatigue. Drink it."
Dudley took out a vial from his pocket and handed it over.
Feeling unusually good, Malfoy had already developed a reflexive obedience toward Dudley. He took the potion and drank it without hesitation.
As soon as he swallowed it, the soreness in his limbs immediately eased, and a warm sensation spread throughout his body. It was hard to describe, but extremely comfortable.
"Incredible…"
Malfoy almost said it out loud. At that moment, he even felt that training with Dudley wasn't so bad.
Now, his feelings toward Dudley were no longer just admiration for strength. There was also a faint sense of dependence.
"Go back and rest. Tomorrow, come earlier. Six o'clock. Don't be late."
"Oh, and there might be one more person… but he won't be training."
The person Dudley referred to was Harry. The night before, Harry had sent a letter via Hedwig, saying he would sleep late and wouldn't come that morning.
Except for rare occasions, Harry almost always showed up on time.
Dudley had invited him to train together before, but he refused. Still, he liked watching.
Was watching someone train more interesting than training yourself?
Dudley couldn't understand it.
He waved his hand, signaling that Malfoy could leave.
Malfoy assured him he would arrive on time the next day. He felt full of energy, even as he limped toward the Slytherin common room.
Dudley watched his back with a thoughtful look.
On the surface, Malfoy seemed like a typical Slytherin troublemaker, always causing problems.
But in reality, he was the easiest one to deal with.
And that was exactly why Dudley had chosen him.
After finishing his morning training, Dudley didn't rest. He took a shower, picked up a notebook, and went out again.
Under the surprised gazes of Madam Pince and the other students, Dudley walked to a corner and sat beside a girl with bushy hair.
After all, with his build, it was hard to believe he was someone who enjoyed studying.
"Why are you so late today?"
Hermione asked, trying to sound casual.
Dudley picked up a book on spell theory and began flipping through it.
"I stayed a bit longer training a kid."
"A girl?"
"A boy."
"I'll go tomorrow too."
Dudley gave Hermione a slightly surprised look. He had suggested before that she train with him, but like Harry, she had refused.
The difference was that Hermione didn't want to develop exaggerated muscles like his.
Because of that, Dudley had even explained it to her.
Under normal conditions, girls have much more difficulty gaining muscle than boys. It was a physiological difference caused by hormonal levels. Without actively training for it, Hermione would never develop a physique like his.
To be honest, Dudley quite liked athletic girls. A well-defined, firm body and—
Cough.
"What are you looking at? Is there a problem?"
Hermione bared her teeth in mock threat.
But with her slightly prominent front teeth, she looked more cute than intimidating.
"Cough… silence!"
Madam Pince's voice rang out.
She had been watching Dudley the entire time.
After all, someone his size was impossible to ignore.
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