The sky was just beginning to turn a pale white, as if a thin veil was slowly being pulled back to reveal the world beneath. A gentle mist hung in the air, a cool, damp blanket settling over the grounds. A light breeze whispered through the falling leaves, their rustling the only sound in the quiet dawn.
Despite his deep reluctance, Malfoy arrived promptly at the Hogwarts main gates at 7 o'clock. The area was eerily still, with only the wind causing a few rustling leaves to skitter across the ground.
Standing alone at the gate, Malfoy huddled in on himself, cursing under his breath that he had most likely been tricked. It was a Saturday morning, a time one should be buried deep in their warm, comfortable bed.
But secretly, a wave of relief washed over him. Being stood up was far better than actually working out with that oaf. Besides, he would have had to shout that humiliating slogan. If Malfoy had had any courage at all, he would have died before yelling that out.
Now, he could just go back to the castle and claim it wasn't his fault; the other party simply hadn't shown up.
Just as Malfoy was about to turn back, he heard a steady, rhythmic thudding sound behind him.
Out of the thin morning mist, a figure slowly appeared. It was Dudley, jogging in a sports vest and shorts, his hands pumping up and down with two dumbbells.
"Thought you might be late," Dudley said, a rare note of praise in his voice as he reached Malfoy. "Surprised you're on time."
"You..." Malfoy stared at him, at a loss for words. The bloke was already sweating, which meant he had been at this for a while. It was only 7 a.m. What time had he started? 6 a.m.?
"I've been at it for a bit," Dudley confirmed, not breaking his rhythm of jogging in place and raising his weights. The only reason he'd told Malfoy to show up at 7 was so the little ferret wouldn't interrupt his proper workout. Dudley had a routine, a pre-bed workout and a morning one, and he hadn't skipped either in years.
Exercise was a habit, a feeling Dudley had come to love. Watching his muscles grow and his own magical energy strengthen was a process he deeply enjoyed.
"We'll start with the basics. First, we warm up, then we run." Dudley's eyes swept over Malfoy. "Next time, don't wear your robes. You'll trip and fall."
He led Malfoy to a patch of grass near the castle and showed him a few simple warm-up exercises. Proper warm-ups were essential to reduce injury, ease muscle soreness, and regulate body temperature.
At first, Malfoy scoffed at how easy they looked. But as soon as he started, he realised his limbs weren't his own. No matter what he did, he couldn't do them as easily as Dudley. By the time he was finished, Malfoy felt like he was about to collapse.
And the real workout hadn't even begun.
"Since it's your first day, we'll take it easy. Just three laps around the castle."
Dudley's own morning run included a trip around the Great Lake, which was far bigger. Malfoy would probably give up before finishing a single lap.
"No need to swim in the lake either," Dudley added. He ran around and even swam in the lake. But with Malfoy's scrawny little body, he'd probably splash around a few times and sink right to the bottom. The lake water was quite chilly in the morning, after all.
Still, even just running around the castle, it was anyone's guess how long Malfoy would last. After the warm-up, Malfoy was no longer underestimating Dudley's idea of "easy."
Taking a heavy step, Malfoy began his daily routine, falling in behind Dudley in a slow jog. He managed to keep up for a little while and started to think it wasn't so bad. But Malfoy was a pampered pure-blood prince; he never exercised, and he rarely even ran a few steps.
Soon, he realised he had completely overestimated himself. He hadn't even finished half of the first lap before his strength began to give out. He fell further and further behind Dudley.
"I can't! I've reached my limit!" Malfoy cried out. His heart was pounding like a drum, his breath was coming in short, ragged bursts, and his legs felt like lead. For a young master of the Malfoy family, he was already doing quite well.
But Dudley wasn't his father. He wasn't going to coddle him.
Dudley walked over without a word, pulled something shiny from his shorts pocket, and delivered a swift, sharp tap to the back of Malfoy's head.
"Run," Dudley said in a cold voice. "When you make a promise, you keep it. That's the most basic requirement of being a man."
"Ouch!"
When Malfoy still didn't move, he received another sharp tap to the head. Of course, Dudley knew his own strength. Malfoy would feel a lot of pain, but that was it. According to the Data Eye, the spot he was hitting would cause maximum discomfort without any lasting damage or bruises. No matter how much Malfoy was checked by a medi-witch, she wouldn't find a thing. It would just plain hurt.
Malfoy didn't know this, though. Seeing that Dudley was serious, he ignored his exhaustion, gritted his teeth, and forced himself back to his feet to continue running. If he slowed down, he'd end up with a dozen more bumps on his head.
"Did you forget the motto I gave you? Shout it!"
Another tap to the head, and Malfoy winced in pain. He didn't care about the shame anymore; he just yelled the words at the top of his lungs. Thankfully, Hogwarts had excellent soundproofing. If they were in a college dormitory, Malfoy would have woken everyone up.
Dudley looked at the silver spoon in his hand. This was what he had been using to hit Malfoy's head. He still didn't know what it was for, but it worked surprisingly well as a tool for discipline. It had no other special features, except for being incredibly hard. Even Dudley's teeth couldn't leave a mark on it.
As the minutes passed, a few early-rising students began to emerge from their beds. A handful of boys and girls who had made a habit of watching Dudley's morning workouts peered out their windows as usual. But this time, they saw he wasn't running alone. Another figure was with him, jogging into the rising sun.
The students watched a truly magnificent sight: Malfoy running in front, and Dudley following behind, using a spoon to tap the back of his head whenever he slowed down. From a distance, they couldn't make out what Malfoy was shouting, but they knew for sure it wasn't a cry for help.
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