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As Ethan approached, both Neville and Cedric stood up, tension evident in their postures.
They knew what today meant—Professor Ethan's special training session.
Noticing his arrival, the students gathered around quickly stepped aside, giving space to the trio.
"Don't worry," Ethan said with a small smile.
"You can start training after you eat."
But Neville and Cedric had no appetite for food at the moment.
They hurriedly cleared their plates, barely tasting their meal.
Wiping his mouth, Cedric stood up.
"Professor Ethan, we're ready."
Ethan nodded approvingly.
"Good. Follow me."
Without another word, he turned and led them through the castle corridors.
Cedric and Neville followed closely behind, their footsteps echoing against the stone walls. After a brisk walk, they reached an empty classroom.
"This," Ethan said, his voice calm but firm, "will be your training room from now on."
Reaching into his robes, he pulled out two wooden swords and tossed them toward the students.
Cedric caught his effortlessly, but Neville, startled, fumbled his, and the wooden blade clattered onto the floor with a sharp sound.
His face turned red with embarrassment. Quickly, he bent down, picked it up, and stole a nervous glance at Ethan.
The professor's expression remained unreadable. Seeing that he wasn't scolding him, Neville let out a quiet breath of relief.
"Gentlemen," Ethan continued, his tone measured, "this training isn't just about passing a competition. It's about survival. You both know Voldemort has returned."
At the name, Neville shot Cedric an uneasy look.
"You already learned the basics of swordplay in our previous lessons," Ethan said, his amber eyes scanning the two.
"Now, we take things further."
His grip tightened around his wooden sword.
"First lesson—always stay vigilant."
Before either student could react, Ethan moved.
With lightning speed, he swung his sword at Cedric's wrist.
A sharp crack echoed through the room as the wooden blade struck home.
Cedric yelped, dropping his sword as pain shot through his arm.
Instinctively, he reached to cradle his wrist—
But Ethan didn't allow him the chance. In a flash, he pressed the tip of his sword against Cedric's neck, freezing him in place.
"Cedric," Ethan said coldly, "your awareness is far too weak. If I were an enemy, you'd be dead."
Cedric swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, Professor."
Ethan didn't lower his sword. "And what happens if you lose your wand in battle? If you drop your weapon?"
Slowly, he pulled the blade away.
"Pick up your sword," he ordered.
"Lunge and thrust—one thousand times. Slash—one thousand times. Now."
Cedric didn't dare protest. Biting back the lingering pain, he retrieved his sword and began the grueling routine.
Unbeknownst to him, the wooden swords Ethan had provided weren't ordinary.
Their cores were filled with lead, adding significant weight to each motion. Completing a thousand repetitions would be no simple feat.
For a moment, Ethan stood back, watching Cedric's progress with a critical eye.
Then, without warning, he turned—and struck at Neville.
Ethan gripped the wooden sword by the blade and drove the hilt hard into Neville's stomach.
Neville, caught completely off guard, had no time to react.
The blunt force struck deep into his gut, knocking the wind out of him.
"Ugh—!" Neville let out a strangled cry, doubling over in pain.
But Ethan wasn't finished.
Without hesitation, he swung the flat of his wooden blade against Neville's back, sending him sprawling onto the cold stone floor.
The impact was too much. Whether from the blow or the food he'd eaten earlier, Neville suddenly gagged—then vomited onto the ground.
Ethan simply stood there, his expression unreadable, making no move to help.
Neville took long, shuddering breaths, trying to pull himself together. After what felt like an eternity, he finally wiped his mouth and staggered to his feet, avoiding Ethan's gaze.
"You've let me down, Neville," Ethan said coldly.
Neville winced. He had expected harsh words, but hearing them still stung.
"I know your abilities are lacking, but I didn't think they were this bad." Ethan's voice was merciless.
Neville stared at the floor, his hands clenched at his sides. He knew arguing would do no good.
"You saw me attack Cedric. You should have been ready." Ethan's eyes narrowed.
"Instead, you stood there like a sitting duck."
Neville swallowed hard.
"Now, same as Cedric. A thousand lunges. A thousand slashes."
Neville bent down, shakily picking up his wooden sword before forcing himself into position.
The grueling exercise began.
At first, both Cedric and Neville performed with decent form, each movement sharp and controlled.
But as exhaustion set in, their stances wavered, and their strikes became sloppy.
Ethan wasn't about to let that slide.
Thwack!
The flat of his sword smacked against Cedric's back.
"Straighten your spine."
Crack!
The wooden blade tapped Neville's chin.
"Jaw down."
Neither of them complained. They simply adjusted and kept pushing through, their arms and legs burning with fatigue.
By the time they completed their drills, sweat had drenched their robes, leaving them trembling and gasping for breath.
Ethan remained unfazed. Without a word, he reached into his robes and pulled out two small vials.
"Drink."
Their hands shook as they took the potions, downing them in one gulp. Almost immediately, warmth spread through their limbs, soothing their aching muscles and replenishing their strength.
Color returned to their pale faces.
"That's it for today," Ethan finally said.
Both Neville and Cedric exhaled in relief.
Training with Professor Ethan was nothing like the casual, encouraging lessons they had grown used to.
He was strict—ruthless, even.
But they were quickly realizing why.
As they caught their breath, Ethan turned to them with a calculating look.
"I assume you've been practicing your handstand walking?"
Cedric nodded. Neville, however, hesitated, looking embarrassed.
He had struggled with this exercise more than the others, often needing Ron and Harry's help to manage even a few steps.
Ethan's expression darkened.
"Then from now on," he said coolly, "you will only use handstand walking to go up and down the stairs."
Neville and Cedric's eyes widened in horror.
Handstand walking on flat ground was hard enough—but on the staircases of Hogwarts?
This was going to be a nightmare.