第7章 体能训练

Monday, 7:15 a.m.

The second-year Gryffindor and Slytherin students stood by the Black Lake, looking utterly bewildered.

More precisely, they looked miserable.

They had been informed that today's Defense Against the Dark Arts class had been moved up to 7:30, and that it would be held outdoors rather than in the classroom.

On a September morning in Scotland, the temperature was barely above ten degrees Celsius. A thin mist drifted across the lake, and dew still clung to the grass.

The students shivered inside their uniforms, their eyes filled with the question: Why?

Ron let out a huge yawn. "I haven't even finished breakfast."

"You ate three slices of toast and two sausages," Hermione said.

"That was just the appetizer."

Harry stood between them, looking fairly alert. He had probably developed the habit of waking early at the Dursleys'.

Over on the Slytherin side, Malfoy stood with his blond hair only half-combed, his face livid. Crabbe and Goyle stood behind him like two machines that had not been switched on yet.

"My father will certainly hear about this—"

"Mr. Malfoy," Zhang Wen's voice came from behind them, "you can discuss your father after class."

The students turned around.

Zhang Wen wore a simple black robe and held his new wand. He looked very energetic.

Artoria stood beside him.

But today's Artoria looked different from usual.

She was not wearing robes. Instead, she had changed into practical short attire—a white shirt, dark blue vest, black trousers, and boots. Her blond hair was tied in a high ponytail.

She looked crisp and efficient, like a knight preparing for battle.

In fact, she was.

"Starting today, there will be fifteen minutes of physical training before class every Monday and Thursday," Zhang Wen announced. "The training will be overseen by Assistant Professor Pendragon."

Artoria stepped forward.

"Warm-up. Run one lap around the lake."

The whole crowd fell silent for two seconds.

Then they erupted.

"One lap?!" Ron's voice cracked outright. "A lap around the Black Lake is at least two miles!"

"One and a half miles," Artoria corrected. "I measured it last night."

Zhang Wen silently marveled to himself—she was telling the truth. After dinner yesterday, she had said she was "going for a walk." So she had actually gone to measure the Black Lake's circumference.

"This is unreasonable!" Malfoy protested loudly. "We came here to learn magic, not run! I'm going to the Headmaster—"

"Mr. Malfoy." Artoria's voice was not loud, but everyone fell silent.

She looked at Malfoy, her gaze calm.

"In my homeland, knight apprentices began running three miles every morning from the age of seven. Winter or summer, rain or shine. Those who could not finish had no right to pick up a sword."

Malfoy opened his mouth.

"You are twelve. One and a half miles," Artoria said. "This is already the minimum standard."

Malfoy opened his mouth again.

Then he shut it.

The King of Knights' presence was no joke. Even though she was only an assistant professor at the moment, the authority that radiated from her bones was not something a twelve-year-old brat could withstand.

"Begin," Artoria said.

No one moved.

Artoria turned and began running along the lakeside.

She was not running fast. It was a standard jogging pace. Her steps were even, her breathing steady, as if she were doing something utterly routine.

Harry was the first to follow.

Then Hermione.

Then Neville hesitantly started moving his legs.

Ron followed, grumbling curses under his breath.

Malfoy watched the Gryffindors start running, gritted his teeth, and ran after them—he would never allow himself to lose face in front of Gryffindor.

Crabbe and Goyle exchanged a glance, then lumbered after them.

Zhang Wen stayed where he was, watching a group of twelve-year-olds run crookedly around the Black Lake.

He did not run.

His stamina might have been better than that of an ordinary wizard, but compared to Artoria's, it was a joke. Running alongside her would only invite humiliation.

So he chose a more dignified role—supervisor.

Ten minutes later.

Harry was the first to finish the course. He was breathing heavily, but he had made it.

Hermione came second. Her face was flushed bright red, and both hands rested on her knees, but there was a stubborn refusal to lose in her expression.

Malfoy came third. He panted heavily, his blond hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, and his expression looked as if he had swallowed an entire dungbomb. But he had finished.

Zhang Wen was somewhat surprised. He had expected Malfoy to quit halfway or pretend to be injured. It seemed the boy had some pride beneath all that sharp tongue.

Neville came fifth—even ahead of Ron. That also surprised Zhang Wen. Neville might not have much magical talent, but his physical condition seemed decent. He just did not know it himself.

Ron came third from last. The moment he reached the finish line, he collapsed straight onto the grass.

"I'm going to die," he said, staring up at the sky. "Just bury me here."

"Mr. Weasley, if you can still talk, that means you have not reached your limit yet." Zhang Wen crouched beside him.

"Why didn't you run?" Ron accused.

"I'm the professor. Professors supervise."

"That's not fair."

"It'll be fair when you become a professor."

Crabbe and Goyle arrived last. After one lap, both had gone pale and looked ready to vomit at any moment.

Artoria waited at the finish line for everyone. Her breathing had not even noticeably changed.

"Their basic level is worse than I expected," she said quietly to Zhang Wen.

"They're only twelve."

"When I was seven—"

"When you were seven, you could already pull out the Sword in the Stone. That standard does not apply to ordinary humans."

Artoria considered this, apparently found it reasonable, and said no more.

After physical training ended, everyone returned to the classroom.

Today's lesson covered the basics of the Shield Charm.

Zhang Wen stood at the podium with his new wand in hand.

"Last lesson, we practiced the Disarming Charm. Today, we will learn defense," he said. "The Shield Charm, Protego, is the most basic and most important protective spell. The incantation is 'Petrificus Totalus'—no, that is the Full Body-Bind Curse. The Shield Charm's incantation is 'Protego.'"

He raised his wand in demonstration.

"Protego."

A pale blue, translucent barrier appeared in front of him.

It was stable, clear, and completely free of tremors.

It was entirely different from his performance with Lockhart's wand last week. The new wand felt like an extension of his body in his hand, every strand of magic flowing and releasing with precision.

The students had clearly noticed the difference as well.

"Professor, did you change wands?" Hermione immediately raised her hand.

"Excellent observation, Miss Granger. Five points." Zhang Wen nodded. "The previous one did not suit me very well, so I exchanged it over the weekend. This is also an important point of knowledge—the compatibility between a wand and a wizard is extremely important. An unsuitable wand can severely affect the results of your spellcasting."

Hermione immediately began scribbling in her notes.

"Now, I will ask Assistant Professor Pendragon to demonstrate." Zhang Wen turned toward Artoria. "I will attack, and she will defend."

Artoria walked to the center of the classroom.

She was not holding a wand.

She did not have one.

The students began whispering among themselves.

"How is she going to defend?" Ron asked Harry quietly.

Harry shook his head, but his eyes remained fixed on the center of the room without blinking.

Zhang Wen raised his wand.

"Expelliarmus."

A red beam shot toward Artoria.

Artoria stepped sideways, and the red light brushed past her ear before striking the wall behind her.

The movement was tiny.

But the timing was precise to the smallest fraction.

"Again," she said.

"Expelliarmus!"

This time, Zhang Wen increased the power and speed.

Artoria sidestepped again while taking a step forward. The red light missed once more, and the distance between her and Zhang Wen shrank by a meter.

"Again."

Zhang Wen fired three Disarming Charms in rapid succession.

Artoria's body flowed between the three red beams like water. There were no unnecessary movements, no exaggerated dodges. Every step was just enough to avoid the attacks, and every step shortened the distance.

After five spells, she was standing directly in front of Zhang Wen.

She only had to reach out to touch his wand.

The classroom was dead silent.

"This is another form of defense." Zhang Wen turned to the class, doing his best to keep his voice calm—honestly, being approached by Artoria like this was rather intimidating. "The Shield Charm blocks attacks head-on, but dodging and footwork are also forms of defense. In many situations, dodging is more effective than blocking head-on."

"But we can't possibly have Assistant Professor Pendragon's reaction speed," said a Slytherin student who had transferred from Ravenclaw.

"Of course not," Zhang Wen said. "That is why you must first learn the Shield Charm. The Shield Charm is the foundation, while dodging is advanced. Only by combining the two can you form a complete defensive system."

"And physical training," Artoria's voice came from behind him, "is the foundation of dodging."

Expressions of realization appeared on the students' faces.

So physical training was not torture dreamed up on a whim by this blond assistant professor. It was part of the entire teaching system.

Zhang Wen gave Artoria a slight nod.

Their coordination was flawless.

Even though they had not rehearsed any of this beforehand—Artoria had improvised it on the spot.

The King of Knights' battlefield instincts were equally useful in teaching.

After class, the students left one after another.

Harry was once again the last to leave. He dawdled while packing his books, only speaking after everyone else had gone.

"Professor Zhang, I have a question."

"Go ahead."

"When Assistant Professor Pendragon was dodging just now—how did she judge the spell's flight path?"

A good question.

Zhang Wen glanced at Artoria.

"Mr. Potter wants to know how you did it."

Artoria thought for a moment, then walked over to Harry.

"It is not about judging the spell's path," she said. "It is about judging the caster's intent."

"Intent?"

"Before the spell is cast, the caster's body gives signals first—the angle of the shoulders, the direction of the wrist, the shift in their center of gravity. If you can read those signals, you can know where the spell will fly before it is cast."

Harry's eyes lit up.

"It's a bit like Quidditch," he said. "Before a Chaser passes, if you watch his shoulders, you can judge the direction of the pass in advance."

Artoria nodded.

"The essence is the same. Anticipation in battle and anticipation in sports follow the same principles."

Harry lowered his head and thought for a while, then looked up at Artoria.

"Assistant Professor Pendragon, what did you do before?"

The question was direct and innocent.

Artoria fell silent for a second.

"A knight," she said.

Harry waited for her to continue.

She did not.

"All right, Mr. Potter." Zhang Wen patted Harry on the shoulder. "We can practice anticipation during after-class tutoring next time. Go have lunch first."

Harry nodded and left with his books in his arms.

When he reached the door, he looked back at Artoria. His lips moved, but in the end, he said nothing.

The door closed.

"He is very intelligent," Artoria said.

"He is more than intelligent." Zhang Wen gathered the things from the podium. "He has instinct. Being able to connect Quidditch experience with combat anticipation is not something an ordinary twelve-year-old can do."

"He requires focused training."

"I know."

Zhang Wen stuffed the last stack of homework into his bag and remembered something.

"Oh, right. In today's physical training, Neville Longbottom came in fifth."

"I noticed," Artoria said. "He has decent physical ability, but he lacks confidence."

"His grades in magic classes are a complete mess. Snape scared him so badly with his scolding that he thinks he can't do anything right."

"That is a mistaken perception." Artoria's tone was even, but Zhang Wen caught a hint of disagreement in it. "A person's worth should not be judged by a single standard. His magic may be poor, but his physical ability is not. If he realizes that he is no worse than others in one area, perhaps the other areas will improve as well."

Zhang Wen looked at her.

Sometimes, he forgot that Artoria was more than just a powerful warrior. She had been a king. She had governed a country and led countless knights. She knew how to judge people, and she knew how to lead them.

"You want to personally guide Neville's physical training?" Zhang Wen asked.

"If you agree."

"Of course I agree," Zhang Wen said. "You're the teaching assistant. You don't need to ask me about this sort of thing."

Artoria nodded.

"It's lunchtime," she said.

Just like that, the conversation naturally shifted from educational philosophy to food.

Zhang Wen was already used to it.

"What's on the menu today?"

"Shepherd's Pie and roasted chicken legs."

"You asked in advance again?"

"Knowing the logistics of supplies is basic common sense."

Zhang Wen followed her toward the Great Hall.

In the corridor, they ran into Hermione.

She was carrying a stack of books in her arms, and her hair was even bushier than before—she had probably just come out of the library. When she saw Zhang Wen and Artoria, she hesitated for a moment, then gathered her courage and spoke.

"Professor Zhang, Assistant Pendragon—may I ask a question?"

"Go ahead, Miss Granger."

"Assistant Pendragon's evasive technique just now—I couldn't find any record of it in any textbook. Which school of magic does it belong to? I'd like to research it further."

Hermione's eyes burned with the desire for knowledge.

Artoria looked at her and answered seriously, "It does not belong to any school of magic. It is a knight's combat technique."

"A knight?" Hermione already had her quill prepared. "Which order of knights? Are there any relevant records about the Round Table Knights? I remember the Hogwarts library has some materials on the legends of King Arthur—"

"Miss Granger." Artoria interrupted her, her tone gentle but firm. "Some knowledge cannot be found in books."

Hermione blinked.

To her, that statement was probably like telling a fish that water did not exist.

"Then... how should I learn it?"

"Come to physical training," Artoria said. "Start with running."

Hermione looked down at her books, then back at Artoria.

"I will," she said, with the solemnity of someone making a military pledge.

She hugged her books and left.

Zhang Wen waited until she had gone far away before speaking. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

"What?"

"'Some knowledge cannot be found in books'—you know how devastating those words are to Hermione Granger. She'll definitely go back and frantically look it up. When she can't find anything, she'll take physical training even more seriously."

Artoria's expression did not change.

"I merely told the truth."

Zhang Wen stared at her for two seconds.

Mm.

The King of Knights only spoke the truth.

It was just that sometimes, the truth could also be a strategy.

Perhaps this was how she had managed the Round Table Knights in Camelot.

Zhang Wen suddenly felt very sorry for Gawain and Lancelot.