The next morning, a thin, silvery veil of mist clung to the grounds. The air smelled of damp earth and crushed pine, heavy with the aftermath of the night's rain. The grass was slick beneath their feet, and crystalline beads of dew weighed down the leaves, refracting the pale early light like scattered diamonds.
Near the Black Lake, the water lay smooth as dark glass, broken only by the occasional slow ripple evidence of the giant squid's wandering tentacles beneath the surface. Along the shore, a handful of students ran through the chill, some trying to burn off restless excitement from the tournament's arrival, others simply struggling to stay warm in October's bite.
Atlas ran at the front.
His pace was steady, unhurried almost effortless as though the cold and wet ground meant nothing to him.
Harry followed several strides behind, breath controlled, legs burning but refusing to slow. His jaw was set with stubborn determination, every step fueled by will rather than comfort.
Ron trailed farthest back.
His face had gone red, freckles standing out sharply as he wheezed, lungs on fire. Each step looked like a personal betrayal by his legs.
Hermione and Ginny ran alongside Atlas, their pace disciplined and surprisingly even.
Hermione's breathing was measured, while Ginny's stride was light, efficient years of flying translating seamlessly into endurance.
Ron finally broke.
"Stop...stop....just..." he gasped, hands braced on his knees as he stumbled to a halt. "I'm...dying..."
Atlas slowed and turned, mist curling around him as he looked back.
"You are weaker than both of them," Atlas said calmly, eyes flicking toward Hermione and Ginny. "That is… unfortunate."
Ron glared between gulps of air. "Oi! I'm built for strategy, not torture."
Atlas tilted his head slightly, studying him as if evaluating a flawed equation."How," he asked mildly, "do you expect any girl to be impressed by you if you collapse before they do?"
Ginny snorted.
Hermione hid a smile behind her sleeve.
Harry, still jogging in place, muttered, "He's got a point, mate."
Ron groaned, dragging himself upright again. "I hate all of you."
Atlas turned forward and resumed running without another word.
After a beat, Ron staggered after them, muttering darkly about betrayal, cruelty, and unfairly athletic people especially girls.
By the time they finally slowed to a walk, Ron looked like he had narrowly survived a dragon attack.
He bent over, hands on his knees, chest heaving as steam rose faintly from his robes in the cold air. "All right," he wheezed, "that's it. I demand an explanation."
Atlas stopped near the edge of the path, mist curling around his boots. He hadn't broken a sweat.
"Why," Ron continued between breaths, "have we been running every morning for a month and a half? We're wizards. We've got wands. Spells. Chairs."
Harry leaned against a tree, catching his breath but listening closely. Hermione and Ginny gathered nearby, curiosity outweighing their fatigue.
Atlas turned to face them.
"To build stamina," he said simply. "Reflexes. A resilient body."
Ron blinked. "That's… it?"
Atlas's gaze sharpened not impatient, but precise."Spellcasting does not exist in isolation," he continued. "To move forward ,to truly advance ,you must strengthen the vessel that channels magic."
Hermione's eyes lit up. "You mean the body affects magical flow?"
"Exactly," Atlas said, nodding once. "Your magic travels through you before it manifests. Mana veins form along nerves, muscles, and bone. A weak body limits capacity. A strong one refines control."
Harry straightened. "And the mana core?"
"Requires stability," Atlas replied. "Endurance. Balance. Without those, the core fractures or never forms at all."
Ron stared at him. "So… if I skip leg day, my magic suffers?"
"Inaccurate phrasing," Atlas said calmly. "But the conclusion is correct."
Ginny folded her arms, intrigued. "And Genesis Breathing?"
"That works internally," Atlas explained. "It refines circulation, strengthens organs, and expands mana sensitivity. But it also enhances external prowess strength, speed, reaction time. The two aspects must grow together."
Hermione frowned thoughtfully. "Like conditioning both the spell and the wand."
Atlas allowed a faint smile. "An apt comparison."
Ron sighed dramatically, collapsing onto a nearby rock. "So you're telling me this is all so I don't explode magically in the future."
"Yes," Atlas said without hesitation.
Ron groaned. "Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant."
Harry glanced at the others, then back at Atlas. "So… we keep running."
Atlas turned toward the path leading back to the castle. "Daily."He paused, then added, almost casually, "Unless you wish to remain ordinary."
Ron pushed himself back to his feet, muttering, "I really hate how motivating you make that sound."
Atlas didn't even look back. He turned forward and resumed running, pace smooth, unbroken, as though the morning itself bent to his rhythm.
"Keep up, Ron," Atlas said calmly, voice carrying over his shoulder. "Otherwise no one will ever date you."
Ron spluttered. "That's that's emotional blackmail!"
Hermione shot Atlas a sharp look. "You didn't have to say it like that."
"I did," Atlas replied evenly.
Ginny snorted, picking up her pace. "He's not wrong."
Ron stared at her in betrayal. "You too?"
Harry laughed, jogging past him. "Come on, mate. He's trying to help. In a… terrifying way."
Ron grumbled but forced his legs to move, shoes slipping slightly on the damp grass. "When I collapse," he panted, "I'm haunting all of you."
Atlas's gaze flicked briefly to the sky. The clouds had thickened, low and heavy, rolling in from the north like a slow tide.
"Move faster," he said. "It's going to rain soon."
Ron looked up, then back at Atlas in disbelief. "Oh, brilliant. Humiliation and drowning."
Thunder murmured distantly.
They ran on.
***
Inside the Great Hall, the morning light filtered through the high windows, catching the steam rising from the breakfast platters. The usual morning bustle had returned, though the conversation was now dominated by the Triwizard Tournament and the looming presence of the Goblet of Fire.
Atlas sat at the table, a stark contrast to the students around him. He was calmly reading the Daily Prophet, a slice of bread in one hand and a bowl of Chicken Tikka Masala in front of him the rich, spiced aroma of the dish a small, personal indulgence that seemed out of place in the Scottish Highlands.
He didn't look up from the headlines as he spoke, his voice low and steady. "After your classes today, come to the base in the Room of Requirement. Use the secret passage in the boys' dormitory near my bed. We need to stabilize your breathing,and I will begin teaching you the mechanics of true duels."
He paused, the Daily Prophet crinkling as he folded a corner. "And," he added, his voice dropping an octave, "I have something to show you. Something I've retrieved that does not belong to this world's history."
As the words left his lips, the air at the Gryffindor table seemed to grow heavy. Harry and Ron shared a look of guarded excitement, while Hermione's eyes narrowed, her mind already cataloging the risks.
As the words left his lips, a shadow fell across the table.
A girl in the pale blue silk of Beauxbatons had approached. She didn't say a word, but her eyes were fixed on Atlas with a look of pointed curiosity. She leaned forward, placed a small, elegantly folded slip of parchment on the table directly in front of him, and offered a lingering, enigmatic smile before turning to glide back toward her own delegation.
Atlas reached for the paper, but Hermione was faster.
With a blur of motion fueled by a sudden, sharp indignation, she snatched the note from the table. Before Atlas could protest, she snapped it open, her eyes darting across the elegant script. As she read, her jaw tightened, and a flush of crimson crept up her neck.
Without a word, she looked down at Atlas who was calmly taking another bite of his breakfast and then, with deliberate ferocity, she crumpled the parchment and used a silent Incendio with her wand. The paper vanished into a flurry of grey ash before it even hit the floor.
"Hey!" Ron sputtered, his fork halfway to his mouth. "What was that? That could've been a challenge! Or... or a love note! I think that was a love note, Harry!"
Harry looked between Atlas and Hermione, the tension at the table suddenly far more interesting than his eggs. "Hermione, you can't just burn someone else's mail."
"It was a distraction," Hermione said, her voice clipped and dangerously polite as she glared at Atlas. "A calculated, diplomatic distraction designed to compromise the focus of a rival student. I saved you the trouble of ignoring it, Atlas."
Atlas finally lowered his newspaper, his expression entirely unbothered. He looked at the pile of ash on the floor, then back at Hermione's fiery gaze.
"I hope it was worth the effort," Atlas said mildly, a faint, teasing glint in his Eye of Nihility. "I already knew what it said."
Ron, however, wasn't looking at the ash.He was looking toward the High Table with a growing sense of dread. He leaned in, his voice a frantic whisper. "Before we talk about training or secret rooms, we have to face the immediate problem. We've got Potions next, Atlas, and Snape has been looking at you like he's trying to perform a dynamic autopsy with his eyes."
Ron swallowed hard, glancing back at the hooked-nose professor who was currently stabbing a piece of kipper with unnecessary violence. "Seriously, mate, lately he is more focused on you than he is on Harry. And that's saying something. He looks like he's just waiting for you to breathe the wrong way so he can give you a month of detention in the dungeons."
Hermione's anger cooled into a sharp, protective alertness. "Ron's right. Snape isn't just suspicious,he's obsessed. He noticed you weren't in the Hall during the arrivals, Atlas. He's been tracking your movements."
Atlas didn't flinch. He simply took a slow, deliberate sip of his tea, his gaze drifting toward the High Table to meet Snape's dark, fathomless stare for a fraction of a second.
He stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "To the dungeons, then. Let's see if his curiosity outweighs his caution today."
============
Powerstone plzzz