Hermione and Ron looked sideways.

For the first time they knew Harry's exact time to get up.

4:30 in the morning...

No wonder they had never seen Harry get up. It had nothing to do with getting up early or late. It was that Harry's rest time was too short to be expected. They were all hardworking children, and they would study until one or two in the morning before going to bed.

Even Hermione needed at least four hours of sleep with the help of potions to recover her full energy and cope with the busy day ahead.

Harry went to bed at a little after one and got up at half past four, so he only had three hours of rest time.

this……

"Harry, you said I should take care of myself, but you!" Hermione's eyes became dangerous and her tone was sharp.

"Don't worry, I'm fine." Harry comforted her.

Hermione interrupted him, her tone cold: "I don't know if a person who is still in the growth spurt can be fine with only two hours of sleep a day!"

"No matter from a magical point of view!"

“From a scientific perspective!”

“It’s hard to explain.”

"I think magic will work." Harry lowered his voice. "It's just a little trick. I'll discuss it with Professor Flitwick and see if we can change it to something more universal."

Hermione stared at him suspiciously.

I doubt whether Harry is relying on his strong physical fitness to hold on. This guy is a bit hypocritical.

"Really." Harry put his arm around Hermione's shoulders and leaned his face towards hers. "You can see that there's a big difference between a good rest and a bad rest."

Hermione blushed, but continued reading carefully.

From the forehead to the chin, no part was spared.

There aren't many signs of fatigue.

"Then let's just think of it as magic." Hermione snorted reluctantly and nodded in agreement.

She didn't interfere in Harry's life. If those things happened to her, the heavy pressure would keep her awake all night long. But Harry was already doing well.

The next day, early in the morning.

Neville was woken up by Harry.

He was dazed but had no complaints. Harry manipulated him into changing his clothes with a spell, then he walked out of the common room, ran out of the castle, and started a day's exercise.

Not long after they left the lounge.

Hermione yawned and walked out of the girls' dormitory holding a book. She sobered herself up with a burst of fresh air, sat down by the fireplace, and concentrated on reading.

Outside the castle.

Even in summer, the wind in the early morning was not mixed with any hot breath. The coldness hit Neville's face and he couldn't help shivering. He cleared his mind, clenched his fists, and followed Harry's footsteps. He followed him around the Black Lake and to the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Start running around the farthest outer circle of Hogwarts.

Less than a quarter of the way through, Neville was panting, sweating profusely, and vomiting up everything he had eaten last night.

"Harry." Neville vomited and trembled as he spoke, "I, I can't do it anymore..."

Harry said nothing, but stood aside, digging out a bottle of potion from his hat.

Wait until Neville finishes vomiting.

He grabbed Neville's chin, unscrewed the bottle cap and roughly poured the potion into his stomach while the little fat man, who was somewhat unconscious from vomiting, hadn't reacted yet.

Neville struggled subconsciously.

His hands struggled as if drowning, but he could not resist Harry, and he grabbed in vain, coughing, and was forced to drink the potion.

"Harry, what is this?" Neville's face turned green and his voice was hoarse because of the bitterness. "You can just tell me and I will drink it."

"Run." Harry pushed him and led him to continue running forward. "Don't stop."

Neville moved subconsciously.

His legs were heavy and numb. Lactic acid deposits were like roots, connecting his feet to the earth. The burning sensation in his throat, esophagus, stomach, and lungs was still there. He could run. His brain and body told him that he could still run.

Hogwarts had never seemed so big to Neville.

He had never realized that there were so many strange things in Hogwarts - statues he had never seen before, scenery he had never seen before, and even some plants that he thought would not be in Hogwarts, all of which were taking root tenaciously and with difficulty in these small corners.

Ran a lap.

They stopped by the Black Lake. The sun had just risen, and a ray of light pierced through the clouds, sprinkling on the calm surface of the Black Lake like mottled scales.

Neville wanted to sit down, collapse, just sink into the soft grass.

Harry pulled him and stopped him from sitting down: "Don't rest immediately after exercise, walk around me for a while."

Neville trembled and took a step forward.

At first he could still feel the toll of fatigue on his body, but soon he could no longer feel it. His body was numb, and all the feelings of fatigue, pain, and lack of strength disappeared.

It was not until I finished running that the feeling of powerlessness returned to my body.

Harry raised his hand and checked the time: "One hour and twenty-seven minutes."

Neville tilted his head and looked at the road he had run: "It took me just over an hour to run a lap."

Harry deadpanned, "Half an hour later than I expected."

Neville was stunned.

Harry held up two fingers. "And it's two circles, not one."

Neville took a deep breath, choking himself violently, and coughed for a while before he recovered. He weakly widened his eyes as wide as possible, looking in disbelief at the peer in front of him who was only breathing slightly but whose robe was also soaked with sweat.

After just one circle, he felt like half of his life was gone.

Two laps...

That means you really want to donate your life.

"But you have to take your time with your physical fitness." Harry waved his wand, and two dead trees rooted in the lakeside flew over. In his hands, they twisted and transformed into two wooden swords. He threw one of them over, "Now that you have rested enough, come on."

"I'll teach you some simple sword techniques."

Neville scrambled to catch it.

Harry said softly: "There is no need for wizards to learn swordsmanship. Magic is enough to solve many problems. But you are different. You want revenge."

"Except for wizards as powerful as Professor Flitwick and Professor Snape, for most wizards, once they get close to them, they are almost certain to die. There is a big age gap between you and those people, so swordsmanship is a good supplement."

He waved his wand again, and a training dummy appeared.

Neville took a deep breath and held the sword firmly.

Harry straightened his grip on the sword.

Learn from Vesemir and Geralt.

But he did not intend to take out the herbal potion and let Neville try to become a witcher. Being able to master extraordinary powers without any side effects was already a good thing, and there was no need to add any burden to life.

Herbal medicine is a gamble that uses life as a chip. The winner lives and the loser dies.

And the chance of winning is very low, so low that out of ten people, perhaps only two or three can survive.

Neville wasn't yet at the point where he had to take his own life, although Harry knew he would be happy to do so.

The sun became increasingly hotter.

"Okay, that's enough for today." Harry waved his hand.

Neville took a deep breath, "Harry, what time is it?"

"Seven," Harry answered.

Neville continued to chop the dummy: "I can train for another hour. I think I can hold on."

"But your body can't do that." Harry shook his head. He snapped his fingers and the wooden sword in Neville's hand turned back into a branch. "You need to grow your body, not destroy it. We will go and ask Madam Pomfrey if she thinks you have overloaded your training today. We will then formulate a specific training plan."

During training, Neville only felt that long-distance running was painful.

It is not only a torture to the body, but also to the mind.

But after dinner and the first History of Magic class, the bitter consequences of the morning's training began to bite him.

It hurts everywhere except my head.

Legs, knees, stomach, wrists.

But soon, his head began to hurt. After History of Magic, there was Potions class. Snape announced to them with great relief that this might be his last year staying with you incompetents.

Only those who get an "O" in the OWLS exam are eligible to join the advanced class for sixth grade.

This made many people who were not doing well in Potions class quite worried.

Although Snape was a bit sharp-tongued, scolded harshly, assigned more homework, and was strict with potions, but no matter how many shortcomings he had, it was undeniable that his attainments and achievements in potions. Being the youngest Potions Master almost meant that he was destined to become the best Potions Master.

Especially those young wizards who are committed to working in St. Mungo's after graduation and the advanced classes of Potions are the most reluctant to give up this opportunity.

At noon, Harry took Neville to the school infirmary.

Although it's the first day of school.

The school infirmary was still crowded, mostly with third-year wizards - they had just started Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures class, and they were still a little uncomfortable with it. Gryffindors were still the main force, but the sickest ones lying in the cubicles were wearing green robes.

Madam Pomfrey examined Neville carefully and quickly came to the conclusion: "Too much exercise at one time."

"Are you planning to start losing weight? There's no need to use the Muggle method. I can prescribe you a few bottles of slimming potion. Pomona..."

Neville shook his head: "No, I'm not losing weight, I'm learning and exercising with Harry."

"Exercise?" Madam Pomfrey nodded thoughtfully. "There's no need to be so anxious. You can take it slow and increase the amount of exercise little by little."

Neville struggled and shook his head again: "Madam Pomfrey, is today's exercise harmful to my body?"

"Of course not. It seems that Mr. Potter has prepared a potion for you? This is all within the acceptable range." Madam Pomfrey answered him carefully, "As long as you don't abuse the potion. Of course, if you want to take it every day, you have to reduce the dosage by one bottle."

Harry nodded and agreed.

"Then I should reduce the amount of exercise?" Neville frowned.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head, "No, of course not. Mr. Potter seems to think you are too fragile. Just have a bottle after your exercise."

Neville was very surprised: "Then can I increase the amount of training?"

“How much can it add?”

Madam Pomfrey sighed deeply, "I strongly advise against young wizards being so eager for quick success, but since you are Mr. Longbottom, I will give you my best advice."