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In his previous life, many people had mocked Voldemort as a fool.
Dudley had dealt with the remnant of his soul and the first two Horcruxes rather easily.
But Voldemort's danger was still among the highest in the world, even if his vision was somewhat narrow.
Dudley had fought the version of Voldemort attached to Quirrell.
He had not been weak at all.
At full strength, Voldemort truly deserved the title of Dark Lord. At the height of his power, almost no one in the wizarding world could oppose him head-on. Most people fled at the sound of his name.
Even Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of the age, had to avoid facing him head-on at his strongest.
If Dumbledore had truly been the perfect counter to Voldemort that people claimed, he would have killed him long ago.
Dudley was not Dumbledore.
He would not place his hopes on a vague prophecy.
He trusted himself more.
He did not stay long with the Squibs. When he returned to Hogwarts, Dumbledore had not yet come back.
For the next while, Dudley set aside his other research and focused on Ripple Breathing.
He had a feeling that it was about to advance again.
Dudley's body had finally entered a true growth phase. His physical stats were rising rapidly, and Ripple Breathing advanced along with them.
Early in the morning, when the sky had only just begun to pale, five of the six members of the disciplinary group were already doing their usual physical training.
During their run, they occasionally looked toward one particular place.
"Brother D's training is getting more and more absurd," Draco whispered while jogging.
"He started around midnight, didn't he?"
"If I wore that thing, I think I would die."
Ron, running beside him, immediately mocked him. "Remove 'think.' You would definitely die."
"As if you would survive. Want to try it later?"
Normally, Ron would have argued back at once.
This time, he did not.
Because he really would die.
"Harry, are you sure Brother D is all right?" Neville asked quietly.
Even with Neville's build, he would not be able to breathe while wearing that thing.
"Brother D never does anything he is not sure about," Harry said with complete confidence.
In Harry's heart, there was nothing Dudley could not do.
Hermione ran at the front without speaking, but the glances she kept sending in Dudley's direction betrayed her thoughts.
Dudley, the center of their discussion, was wearing a huge iron mask.
He was slowly climbing a massive iron pillar.
Most importantly, the pillar was covered in oil.
It was so slippery that an ordinary person would not be able to climb it at all. They would have trouble even holding on.
The iron mask was not complicated. It was ugly, heavy, and made breathing extremely difficult.
That was exactly its purpose.
The key to Ripple Breathing was correct breathing. Physical training came second. If the rhythm was wrong, the mask would quickly create a feeling of suffocation.
The oiled pillar trained the use of Ripple energy.
Breathing and application.
He needed both.
This was the next stage after using Ripple to walk on water.
Dudley had never stopped training. He had not relaxed for even a day. He knew that compared with learning spells, this body was better suited for close combat.
Bajiquan, Taizu Long Fist, Hung Gar, Wing Chun, and several other striking styles. He had practiced all of them.
But most of his focus remained on Ripple Breathing.
Huff.
Huff.
As Dudley climbed, slipped, and climbed again, his breathing gradually grew heavier. The iron mask added weight and restricted his breath. The oiled pillar drained strength at a terrifying rate.
Sweat poured down him like rain. His clothes had long since been soaked through.
Fortunately, his stamina could no longer be measured by ordinary standards.
Every slip only sharpened his fighting spirit.
Golden sparks shimmered over his palm as it pressed lightly against the oiled iron. His arm tightened, and his body rose. Then the other hand moved in the same way.
His palms, broad as paddles, clung to the pillar as if they had suction cups.
Slowly, he climbed toward the top.
When Ripple Breathing reached a deep enough level, it could transmit force through one object into another. It could destroy the ground beneath a person without harming the person at all.
What Dudley was doing now was similar, except climbing an oiled pillar through indirect control was even harder.
Although his Ripple Breathing was only Level 2, that was already a high level. For most people, touching the edge of Level 2 would count as mastery.
One handhold after another.
He climbed with difficulty.
Finally, just as Harry and the others were about to finish their training, Dudley reached the top.
"Success."
He removed the iron mask, wiped his face, and flung away a handful of sweat.
But he was not satisfied.
Standing at the top of the pillar, he put the mask back on, took several deep breaths, then slid down and started climbing again from the bottom.
One success did not mean the next attempt would succeed.
Dudley wanted to reach the top every time.
The mask corrected his breathing again and again. The oiled pillar trained both endurance and control.
As his physique improved, Ripple Breathing improved quickly too.
After a week of practice, he could climb the pillar perfectly no matter how many times he tried.
On the day he completed that stage, Ripple Breathing rose from Level 2 to Level 3.
The next training project had already been planned.
One-finger handstands.
Ordinary one-finger handstands were no longer difficult for Dudley. He had been able to do them before entering Hogwarts.
This time, the point was different.
The handstand would not be on the ground.
It would be on something like the edge of a blade.
Dudley did not actually go looking for a knife. Instead, he chose an object with a similar point: the tip of one of Hogwarts Castle's rooftops.
The difficulty was not much lower than a real blade.
The danger was higher.
If he fell from that height, he would not merely be injured. Any young wizard passing below might be smashed flat.
So he did not begin with a handstand.
He started by standing on the rooftop point with the tips of his toes.
Only after he adapted completely would he move on to the one-finger handstand.
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