Having done training like this for months now, Harry was used to the physical strain he had to exert. It was cathartic in a way that not even Quidditch had been for him. Flying was great, it gave him the freedom that birds enjoyed on a daily basis. But sometimes, all Harry wanted to do was smash something to pieces. One of the dummies got too close to him, so he swiftly bisected it with a powerful swing of his sword, sending the top half flying in a shower of splintered wood. Another dummy successfully hit him in the back with one of its fake spells, stinging him. Aggravated, Harry spun around, using the momentum of the sword’s weight to propel him forward until he cut through the middle of its head, cutting the top from the bottom cleanly. As the second dummy dropped, Harry brought up a Shield Charm to block the third’s attack then retaliated with a nasty Bludgeoning Hex that sent the automaton flying into a wall with a loud crack. When it didn’t get up, Harry turned around, dragging his sword behind him while breathing heavily.