bioinnovel Chapter 164 The Power of My Thinking
Chapter 164 The Power of My Thinking
Chapter 164 The Power of My Thinking
"Again!" Belvina said. "Let me see what you've got, okay?"
Harry, lying on his back, had lost count of how many times he had fallen. He gritted his teeth, stood up, and raised his wand once more.
"Expelliarmus!" Harry shouted, and his holly wand shot out a beam of red light.
A flash of red light, and Harry fell again, once more making intimate contact with the green carpet-like grass beneath him, while cotton-like white clouds drifted slowly past his eyes.
"Is that all you've got, kid?" Belvina said. "Can't you let me break a sweat? I'm freezing."
Harry, his body aching all over, struggled to his feet, picked up the holly wand that had fallen to the side, gritted his teeth and stood up again, resolutely raising the wand.
"Expelliarmus!" Harry shouted his signature spell, and another dazzling red flash appeared.
As expected, Harry fell to the ground again, lying on the soft grass, panting heavily, clutching his wand tightly in his hand.
This one-sided beating had been going on for the entire morning. Harry was repeatedly knocked down by Belvina, and even though his body felt like it was about to fall apart, he still gritted his teeth and got back up time and time again.
Belvina could easily knock Harry down countless times, but Harry always managed to get back up through sheer willpower, making him a true unyielding figure in Fertile Soil.
After spending the morning beating up the children, Belvina's training plan gradually improved. The scarred brute's foundation was too weak; what he needed most was to solidify his basics, not to master more spells.
At that moment, Harry, lying on his back, had no idea what awaited him. All he could think about was hitting Belvina once, just once.
Unfortunately, Harry's disarming charm posed no threat to Belvina at all; she could stop his attack even without her wand.
Harry propped himself up on his arms, using the ground for support, and sat up with difficulty. His messy black hair was already soaked with sweat, and his clothes were dirty, covered in sweat and mud.
"Your foundation is too weak, and your accuracy is terrible. You've wasted too much time, Harry," Belvina said. "Speed and accuracy, you're neither."
As she spoke, Belvina stepped forward. She was almost sweating and remained clean and refreshed.
Belvina reached out and helped Harry up from where he was sitting on the ground.
She continued, "That concludes our morning practice. You can go back to your room and rest now. Dobby will come to find you and apply some ointment to relieve the pain. In the afternoon, practice with the wooden target to get a feel for it."
"I will try my best, Professor," Harry said firmly, panting.
The one-sided beating that lasted all morning did not dampen Harry's enthusiasm; on the contrary, it made him more determined and full of energy.
Watching Harry hobble back into the house, and seeing his kneeling figure, Belvina sighed, then smiled with satisfaction.
The sigh was because of the uncertain future. Harry was just a boy, and his thin shoulders had to bear everyone's hopes. Harry had to grow up as soon as possible.
What is the price of growing up quickly?
Thinking about this, Belvina felt a little guilty. Placing the burden of saving the world on the shoulders of a young man made her previous plan of lying down seem somewhat inhuman.
The reason for her satisfied smile was simpler: it wasn't because she had a legitimate reason to beat up the child, but because Belvina felt her time wouldn't be wasted.
Although Harry's foundation was somewhat lacking and his talent wasn't the kind that was blindingly brilliant, hard work can make up for shortcomings, and Harry, this unpolished gem, is worth taking a gamble on.
With the combined blessing of talent and perseverance, plus the not-so-serious "strict teacher" Belvina, Harry's future is, if not "promising," at least "promising."
At noon, Dobby the house-elf prepared a very lavish lunch.
Chicken thighs, chicken breasts, beef, lamb, smoked meat—a whole table full of various meats, along with nuts and milk, all to replenish Harry's energy.
The wooden dining table creaked and groaned under the weight; it simply couldn't withstand the house-elf's enthusiasm.
Harry, covered in ointment, looked like a little medicine man, exuding a medicinal scent from head to toe. Some parts were even wrapped in bandages and tied with bows, clearly Dobby's handiwork.
Harry, who had been training hard all morning, was really starving. He devoured his food with a whirlwind of knives, forks, and spoons.
Despite being a minor wizard, he managed to exude a sense of magnanimity, drinking from large bowls and eating large chunks of meat.
Belvina, who was slowly and methodically cutting her steak across from her, was completely stunned. She almost thought that the Fertile Plain had been renamed a bandit's den.
The farmhouse was renamed Juyi Hall.
After lunch, there is a short rest period. It is not advisable to engage in strenuous exercise right after eating. It is not just a matter of getting hurt, but what if you vomit all over the place?
Although Belvina doesn't have to clean up, seeing filth can really ruin one's mood.
It wasn't until after 2 p.m. that Harry, exuding the scent of medicine, came out of the house again, stood on the soft grass, and huffed and puffed at the human-shaped wooden target.
In the lush green yard, various colored spells flashed and competed for attention, and Harry's throat was parched and his lips were cracked from chanting so many spells.
Belvina lay lazily on a deck chair, a straw hat covering her stomach, sunglasses pushed up on her head, a large parasol providing ample shade, and a glass of chilled juice on a low table beside her.
While Harry was practicing intensely over there, Belvina was enjoying life over here.
After some time, Harry, whose throat was dry, stepped into the shade under the parasol and picked up his water bottle to replenish his fluids.
"Professor, I can hit the target when it's stationary," Harry said in a hoarse voice, "but when it moves..."
My spell will miss.
"Just call me Belvina at home. I'm not that much older than you. Professor, that sounds too old," Belvina said lazily. "It's normal to miss. Your opponent will only move faster than the target."
They weren't that much older, only a teenager.
If Signas Black were to have children at the same rate, Belvina could easily have given birth to a grown son like Harry at her age.
After taking a few more gulps of water, Harry asked, "So what should I do? If the spell misses, isn't it a waste of an opportunity?"
Upon hearing this, Belvina opened her eyes and said, "Don't aim at your opponent with your eyes, use your heart, Harry."
"With your heart?" Harry asked, puzzled. "I don't understand. If you don't use your eyes, you can't see, right?"
Ah, that makes so much sense, I can't refute it at all.
Since she couldn't refute it, she decided to take action. Belvina threw her straw hat, which had been covering Harry's navel, and the hat landed lightly on Harry.
Belvina said helplessly, "I only told you not to aim with your eyes alone, did I tell you not to use your eyes? Did I tell you to close your eyes? Did the Dursleys really send you to school?"
With a casual flick of her wrist, Belvina struck the wooden target with the red light of the disarming spell, as if it were meant to land precisely where the spell was supposed to.
"You don't want the spell to hit your opponent; you want to use your mind to imagine that your spell is already on your opponent," Belvina said. "All you have to do is chant the incantation, cast the spell, and let the spell return to its original place."
Harry didn't quite understand. Could he really hit someone if he tried to imagine it? Wasn't that a bit of a fantasy?
But what would it feel like for Harry to have to believe that the spell had just been revealed by Belvina and return it to its original position?
"When you're dueling a wizard, especially a dark wizard, they won't give you time to aim or stand still," Belvina continued. "You need to develop your instincts, strengthen your mind, and get into the habit of striking as soon as you raise your hand."
Belvina's philosophy has a bit of the meaning of "I think power", but magic is a mysterious power that cannot be judged by common sense. Every wizard with powerful magic is a person with a strong heart.
Only those with a strong enough heart can truly master magic, wield power that rivals all others, and make great power their own.
Quirinus Quirrell is a good example. He has a wealth of theoretical experience and has mastered many spells, including dark magic, but his strength is still lacking because Quirrell's heart is too fragile.
In the shadow cast by the parasol, Harry nodded blankly. He roughly understood what Belvina meant: observe with your eyes and aim with your heart. That should be the meaning, right?
Harry put down his empty water glass, turned around, stepped out of the shade provided by the parasol, and stood back in front of the wooden target.
Harry gripped his wand tightly, closed his eyes, listened to the wind, and tried to feel the position of the wooden target. He slowly raised his holly wand—"Expelliarmus!"
A flash of red light appeared, and the human-shaped wooden target with the small stick stuck in it remained unharmed!
Harry's disarming spell missed, terribly missed. His spell sent the goblins in the yard flying high into the air, at least twenty feet away.
The Disarming Charm was like stirring up a hornet's nest. Harry only knocked one goblin away, but the rest of the goblins in the garden popped out to see what was going on.
Belvina raised her arm to cover her eyes; she truly couldn't bear to look.
What is this? Is it a feint attack to the east while striking to the west, or a diversionary tactic?