The next morning, the courtyard was a patchwork of frost and sunlight, the cold air biting at the noses of students hurrying to class. Most gave the center of the courtyard a wide berth — not because of danger, but because the scene in the middle was so bizarre it was hard to look at without feeling slightly inferior.
There stood Inosuke.
Or rather, there he squatted. A massive oak log — thicker than a man's torso — rested across his broad shoulders like it weighed no more than a school bag. Every few seconds he dropped into a deep squat, thighs parallel to the stone tiles, then rose again with explosive power. The log barely wobbled, but the veins running down his arms pulsed visibly with each movement. His breath came in sharp bursts of steam, and sweat gleamed along the ridges of muscle that looked like they'd been carved from granite.
A few second-years peeked from behind a pillar, wide-eyed. "Is he… training for class?" one whispered.
The other shook his head. "No. I think he's training for war."
Fred, George, and Lee walked across the courtyard toward him, their pace casual, but their minds razor-focused on the mission. Oliver's plan wasn't just about getting Inosuke on the team — it was about unleashing him in the right direction.
And that meant making him angry.
Fred tilted his head. "Merlin's beard… he's bigger than yesterday."
"Muscle memory," George said with mock seriousness. "Except with him it's more like muscle multiplication."
Lee smirked. "Perfect. The angrier he gets, the more terrifying he looks. This is going to be beautiful."
As they approached, Inosuke slammed the log down beside him with a deep, echoing thunk. Dust rose around it. He turned toward them, still breathing evenly as though lifting a whole tree was just his warm-up.
"You three," he grunted. "What do you want? You here to spar?"
Fred raised his hands quickly. "Not today, mate. Just thought you should know… we overheard something this morning."
George nodded solemnly. "Yeah. And you're not going to like it."
Inosuke's eyes narrowed instantly, his voice dropping low. "Tell me."
Lee stepped forward, playing his role to perfection. "We were passing the Slytherin locker room after breakfast. Marcus Flint was in there with his goons, Bole and Derrick. They were… laughing."
Fred made a face as though the memory itself was offensive. "They called you 'all bark, no bite.' Said all those muscles were for show."
George leaned in. "Said you wouldn't last two minutes on a broom — too slow, too stupid to handle one. Oh, and Flint said you looked like a lost troll wearing hand-me-down robes."
Lee shook his head in mock disgust. "They even joked you'd be more useful scrubbing cauldrons than trying to play Quidditch."
The transformation was instantaneous.
Inosuke's nostrils flared. His jaw tightened. The muscles in his arms tensed as though he were holding himself back from tearing into someone right then and there.
"They said… what?" His voice was so low it almost vibrated in the air.
Fred, keeping his expression serious, shrugged. "We're just telling you what we heard."
George added, "And they were laughing so hard they had to lean on the lockers. It was pretty insulting, even by Slytherin standards."
Inosuke's fists clenched. "Where are they?"
Lee quickly stepped in, pretending to be the voice of reason. "They're at practice right now. But…" He trailed off, letting the moment hang.
Inosuke whipped around to glare at him. "But what?"
Fred exchanged a look with George before speaking. "Well, there is one way to shut them up. One way to prove you're not just 'all bark.'"
Inosuke leaned forward slightly, his eyes sharp and predatory. "Tell me."
George grinned. "Join the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Play Beater. There's a match against Slytherin coming up in two months. You'd have a legal excuse to knock those smug grins right off their faces… in front of the whole school."
Lee's grin matched his. "Think of it like aerial combat. You get a bat, you get targets in green robes, and no one yells at you for hitting them. You'd have an audience cheering you on."
Inosuke was silent for a moment. Then he tilted his head back and laughed — a wild, almost animalistic laugh that made a few nearby Hufflepuffs flinch.
"I like it," he said at last. "I like it a lot. When's this match?"
Fred smirked. "Two months from now. Plenty of time for you to train."
George added, "And we've got something special for you. A bat heavier than regulation — built just for you. If you can smash a log, you can smash a Bludger hard enough to send Flint straight into the stands."
Inosuke's grin was nothing short of dangerous. "Give me the bat. Give me the broom. I'll crush them."
Lee stepped forward. "You'll get them both tonight. But until then, maybe… channel that anger into more training. Make sure when you hit them, they stay hit."
Inosuke bent down, hefting the log back onto his shoulders as though it weighed nothing. "I'm going to make them regret laughing. I'm going to make them regret breathing. And when I'm done, they'll wish they'd never been born!!"
Fred and George shared a look of triumph over his shoulder. The hook was set.
For the next hour, they hung back and watched as Inosuke's "training" took on a terrifying new edge. He didn't just squat the log anymore — he began sprinting across the courtyard with it, leaping onto benches and landing with bone-shaking force. Then he started swinging it in wide arcs, as though imagining each pass as a Slytherin's skull.
Students who wandered past took one look and wisely chose another route. Even a pair of Ravenclaw prefects decided not to intervene, muttering something about "not wanting to die before NEWTs."
Finally, when the morning sun climbed high and most students were already in class, Inosuke dropped the log one last time with a resounding boom. His chest heaved slightly, but his grin was as wild as ever.
He turned to Fred, George, and Lee. "Tonight. Bring the bat. Bring the broom. I'll smash them so hard their mothers will feel it."
Fred clapped him on the shoulder — and instantly regretted it when he felt just how solid the man was. "That's the spirit."
George nodded, suppressing a shiver. "Flint's not going to know what hit him."
As they left the courtyard, Lee muttered under his breath, "Oliver's going to be so pleased."
Fred smirked. "Pleased? He's going to think we've just handed him the Quidditch Cup."
Somewhere in the castle, Marcus Flint probably sneezed without knowing why — the first warning tremor of the storm that was coming straight for him.
___________
Evening came, the Gryffindor common room hummed with its usual post-dinner chatter. First-years played exploding snap near the fireplace. A group of third-years argued over homework in the corner. The air smelled faintly of treacle tart and parchment ink.
In a quiet alcove on the far side, Oliver Wood gathered his team around a low table. Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, and Katie Bell sat with their backs to the wall, keeping a casual lookout. Fred and George lounged side by side, identical grins plastered on their faces, while Lee Jordan leaned forward, elbows on the table.
Only when Oliver was certain no one else was within earshot did he speak.
"Right. We're going ahead with the plan. Inosuke stays off everyone's radar until match day. No one outside this team knows he's flying. Not even other Gryffindors. Understood?"
Alicia raised an eyebrow. "We're hiding a new Beater from our own House?"
Oliver nodded firmly. "Yes. The more Slytherin doesn't know, the harder they'll be hit — literally. Surprise is our biggest weapon here. By the time they see him coming, it'll be too late."
Angelina smirked. "I'm assuming there's a reason beyond 'we like dramatic reveals'?"
Fred chuckled. "Oh, there's a reason. A big, boar-shaped reason."
George leaned in conspiratorially. "Step one — frame Slytherin for insulting him. Which, by the way, is already done."
Katie blinked. "Wait… frame them?"
"Exactly," Oliver said, lowering his voice. "We share the story that Marcus Flint — or one of his goons — called Inosuke slow, scrawny, and unfit for the sky. Then we add a few choice insults about him being 'a feral animal better suited for cleaning cauldron than a broom.'"
Angelina let out a low whistle. "You're basically setting off a human — sorry, boar — bomb on the pitch."
"That's the point," Oliver replied. "If he's angry, he'll play harder. If he plays harder, we dominate. And if we dominate…"
"…Slytherin gets crushed so badly they won't even want a rematch," Fred finished, grinning like it was Christmas morning.
Alicia crossed her arms, looking half-skeptical. "And you think he won't figure out it's fake?"
"He's not the type to stop mid-charge and fact-check his sources," Lee said with a smirk. "Once he's angry, he's all in. Trust me — I've seen him pick fights with paintings because he thought they were looking at him funny."
Fred added, "Meanwhile, George and I will… embellish the story in the Slytherin corridor. Make it sound like Flint really did say it — and that he's bragging about it."
George's grin widened. "By the time Inosuke hears it, it'll be gospel truth."
Angelina tilted her head. "And what if he goes after Flint before the match?"
Oliver smirked, just a little too coldly. "Then we tell him the only way to shut Slytherin up is to humiliate them during the match. He'll save it for the pitch."
Katie gave a mock groan. "This is… diabolical."
"Competitive," Oliver corrected. "Now — equipment. Fred, George, your job is to keep the reinforced Beater's bat hidden until match day. The moment anyone sees it, questions start flying."
George patted a long canvas bag at his side. "Already hidden in our trunk. Between the decoy fireworks and the biting teacup."
Oliver nodded. "Good. Chasers, you'll help him learn the basics in private. Empty classroom, after curfew, low lights. We can't risk anyone walking in on us."
Angelina's eyes gleamed. "So, secret training. I like it."
"Secrecy is key," Oliver repeated. "Every move we make, every word we say — Slytherin can't know until it's too late."
The room fell into silence for a moment. The fire crackled. Somewhere across the common room, a first-year squealed when their exploding snap deck went off.
A/N
I want to clarify something about Inosuke's buffed appearance and his absurd strength—like being able to lift a tree—despite only being 11 years old in the Harry Potter world. Since none of the characters will ever get a clear explanation (and Inosuke himself is too stubborn and inarticulate to explain it), here's the behind-the-scenes truth.
[Summary]
Inosuke's sudden leap from already muscular to borderline mythical warrior was not the result of mere exercise. What occurred during his "tree training" earlier chapters was a rare and instinctive application of internal magic as a physical catalyst.
Unlike wizards, who generally channel magic through a wand to produce external effects (spells, charms, transfigurations), Inosuke unknowingly directed his magical reserves inward. Instead of shaping magic into spells, he poured it into the fibers of his muscles, tendons, and bones. This was not a temporary Enhancement Charm but rather a biological restructuring—permanent augmentation through magical energy assimilation.
The result was:
A denser muscle structure capable of producing higher force output without sacrificing mobility.
Increased bone mineral density, making his skeleton capable of withstanding greater impacts.
Enhanced neuromuscular efficiency, allowing faster reflexes and coordination.
A permanent expansion of his magical pathways, meaning future augmentations would be easier and more efficient.
_______
[How It Happened?]
1. Trigger Event — Focus Through TrainingWhen Inosuke stood before the tree for hours (Chapter 18), he unknowingly entered a meditative state common to wild animals before a fight—an instinctual preparation ritual. In this state, his magic began circulating inward rather than outward.
2. Magical Conversion — Instinctive AugmentationInosuke's magic didn't just heal; it reconstructed. His body interpreted the magic as raw nutrition and reinforcement material, layering it into his physical structure. This bypassed the slow human muscle growth process entirely.
3. Permanent IntegrationInstead of fading when his magic levels returned to normal, the augmented tissue stabilized. This is the rarest part—most magically enhanced bodies revert after the magic is gone, but Inosuke's feral instincts "locked in" the changes as a new baseline.
_______
[Resulting Advantages]
Strength: Estimated to be at least 2.5x his previous maximum output.
Speed: Short-burst sprinting and combat movements drastically improved.
Durability: Muscle density now acts as a form of passive armor.
Combat Stamina: Magical reinforcement reduces fatigue during prolonged fights.
Future Potential: If Inosuke continues this instinctive training, his physical growth could surpass even magically enhanced magical creatures.
_______
This explanation is for you, the readers, because the characters in the story won't get one—and honestly, Inosuke wouldn't be able to explain it properly anyway.
Lastly, I want to thank all of you for reading, commenting, voting with Power Stones, and leaving reviews. I'm genuinely happy to see my book holding a 5-star rating—it's my first time getting that in a fanfic, and it means a lot. ❤️
If you have thoughts about the chapter, leave a comment.