Training
Harry:
Lyra's letters had arrived, and the children found themselves with their arms full of books that Sirius had bought for them from the list his sister had given their father earlier. Their meetings in Hogsmeade were becoming routine, and their father seemed a little more at ease seeing Lyra interacting with the other schoolchildren.
Ron and Draco had received some (not all) of the same books on strategy, but while the former was focused on battlefield and combat strategy, the latter’s were focused on politics. There were also a few books taken from the family library, with Lyra’s familiar handwriting in the margins, annotating certain magical portraits of historically relevant figures—probably individuals who had applied the theories explained in the pages. It resembled what she did for history lessons, leaving clues here and there that Harry and his friends had to find.
There were also some fiction books that Draco discovered showcased characters applying the theories previously explained. Apparently, this was his sister's attempt to get the boys genuinely interested in learning the subjects she had selected for each of them.
For Hermione, there was a book full of seemingly random curiosities, such as the glass-making process, how quicksand forms in nature, and so on. Although she found the collection of books interesting—she was Hermione, after all—none of them understood their purpose in the context of learning how to defend themselves. At least, not until they read Lyra’s note:
Dear Hermione, I have a question for you: Let’s say you find yourself at a crossroads, and you must choose a path. On the left path, you will have to fight a large and strong man, a farmer accustomed to heavy labor, wielding a sharp sword and wearing armor. On the right path, you will have to face a master swordsman who is completely unarmed, without armor, and not very physically imposing since he has been lost for weeks and has lost his weapons. Which path do you choose?
The right path seems like the most logical choice at first glance—after all, a starving, unarmed man without armor seems less threatening than a strong, well-equipped farmer. But there’s a problem: he is a master swordsman.
That means he has an absurd level of skill, trained reflexes, and probably knows ways to disarm or incapacitate me even without a blade. If he has survived this long without weapons, he may have developed equally lethal hand-to-hand combat techniques.
The farmer, on the other hand, despite being strong and armed, doesn’t necessarily know how to fight technically. He may have brute strength and endurance, but not necessarily the strategy and precision of a trained warrior. Additionally, armor can be heavy and limit mobility. If I can avoid his strikes and target his vulnerable spots, I might have a better chance against him.
That being said, I choose the left path. Better to face a strong and armed man, but one who is possibly predictable, than a master combatant who can defeat me without even needing a sword.
By learning to fight with Harry, you will learn how to fight like a master, but what about when you don’t have a weapon or wand? Learn how to use the things around you to gain the advantage, Hermione. Understand why things happen the way they do and use that to your favor.
I hope these books help you with that. Good luck.
With love, Lyra.
P.S.: Tell the boys I’ll be testing them on all this new knowledge once the holidays start."
The children looked at each other after Hermione read the note aloud.
"Is it just me, or did that sound like a threat?" Ron said after a moment of tense silence.
"It’s fine," Draco said calmly. "As soon as summer starts, I’m going to fall ill. Unfortunately, it will be a contagious disease, so..."
"You’re scheduling your illness?" Hermione raised an unimpressed eyebrow.
"It’s a shame you’re going to end up passing it to me too," Ron lamented with a mischievous grin at Draco. "After all, we’re so close that it was inevitable."
"Keep dreaming, Weasley," Draco pushed Ron’s face away, but he was smiling.
Ginny and Luna had received an obstacle course that Sirius had enchanted to move and increase in difficulty depending on how easily the girls progressed. There were some contraptions that would throw foam balls filled with ink at whoever passed through the circuit. They could all participate, but the whole place was adjusted for smaller people and would be too easy for the older ones.
No, the older ones had received their own obstacle course. Hermione and Ron, after their first attempt, decided to start with Ginny and Luna’s course before trying again. The foam balls in this course were much stronger than those in the first one and left bruises on everyone who got hit.
Luna and Hermione were attending ballroom dance classes at least twice a week, and Harry saw how the girls' physical conditioning improved considerably. It wasn’t an instant improvement, but it was consistent, and soon Hermione was becoming faster than Ron.
Ginny didn’t want to take dance classes, so instead, she started taking gymnastics. It only took a month, but she managed to complete the older children's obstacle course with her flexibility, balance, and limb strength. Lyra had to send her a letter, and they decided that Ginny would learn to wield a weapon of her choice.
Meanwhile, Harry was subjected to hellish training alongside his father, as they were at a similar level in terms of physical combat. Not that they knew this at first.
They were instructed to fight one of the house-elves. Sirius even frowned, but apparently, the elves had received a message from Lyra, and Scooch, the elf, was waiting for their training session.
Scooch was small like all house-elves, with large eyes compared to his face and a pointed nose. His skin was slightly grayish, but otherwise, he looked quite healthy, with somewhat full cheeks and lips. He wore black, long-sleeved padded clothes that seemed to be for protective purposes. Harry could have sworn he saw a metallic gleam resembling a blade between the folds of the fabric, but he said nothing.
"Your task is to take the bells," Scooch raised a pair of small jingling bells to show them before tying them to his waist. "If you manage to get them, the fight is over."
"That’s it?" His father had his hands on his hips, confident. He had his wand with him because the idea of this training was to simulate a real fight.
Harry did not share his father’s sentiment. As confident as he was in Sirius’s dueling abilities, he knew his sister wouldn’t have given them such an easy task. Not after reading the private letter she had sent him about how he would have to train harder than his friends since he was the main target. He was the one so many people wanted dead.
The elf smiled, and Harry felt a chill of foreboding.
"That’s all," he confirmed, and Sirius tensed slightly, sensing there was a catch. "You may begin."
With that, Scooch disappeared with a low pop and reappeared beside Harry, striking the back of his knees and positioning himself at his back, a blade against the boy’s throat and using his other hand to grasp his hair. Sirius had his wand pointed at the elf, but with his son in the way, there was no chance of landing a hit.
"Let him go," Sirius said, his voice sterner than Harry had ever heard, and he could see how his father would kill the elf the moment he had the chance. "That’s an order."
Harry’s heart pounded loudly, his pulse ringing in his ears, hands sweating, and eyes wide as he stared at his father across the room. Maybe because he had felt so safe before, within his own home, he wasn’t prepared to have his life threatened. His breathing started to quicken in fear, but the sting of the dagger at his throat kept him still, even on the verge of a panic attack.
"I’m sorry, Sir Sirius, but you are not the Head of the Black Family, only the temporary representative until Lady Lyra is old enough," the elf bowed his head, the blade at Harry’s neck never wavering. If the boy tried to fight back, his throat would be cut. "The house-elves of this household are only bound to obey the Lady."
"M-my sister ordered you to threaten me?" Harry managed to say, even as the movement of his throat caused the skin to break under the pressure of the dagger, making a drop of blood trickle down. Sirius grew more and more tense, while Harry desperately tried to remain calm.
"Her orders were to teach you both how to survive by simulating a real threat situation," Scooch reported obediently. Harry remembered his sister’s warning and cursed himself for not imagining things would take this turn. His father, judging by how tense he became—his wand still aimed at the elf and Harry—realized it too. "You both knew I would be your opponent and that we would fight, yet you neither positioned yourselves nor took the initiative. You allowed me to make the first move. Your first lesson: the first move can also be the last."
Sirius and Harry now knew that all of this was training, but the blade at his throat was very real. Neither of them could relax—not until the elf let the boy go. They were hostages to this lesson, unable to ignore a single word Scooch spoke.
"Master Hadrian, in a real fight, you must use your hand to grip the blade and elbow me in the side," the elf explained, and Harry, hesitantly, followed his instructions. His movements were slow, careful not to startle Scooch and accidentally get himself killed. Still, Harry hesitated to grab the dagger with his bare hand, feeling the edge threatening to cut his skin. Finally, Scooch released him, and they heard another crack before the elf was suddenly far from Harry, back in the same spot in the room where he had stood when they arrived and he had shown them the bells. Harry nearly collapsed from the sudden loss of the weight that had held him back. "Since this is your first day, I won’t expect you to do it yet, Master, but you need to learn how not to end up in situations like this—and if you do, how to get out of them."
Sirius pointed his wand at Scooch again, but he had yet to cast a spell. His narrowed eyes were cautious. Harry had never wanted his own wand as much as he did now. Sometimes, he could use one of the spare wands at home, but mostly when he wanted to try a more complex spell that would be too difficult to perform wandlessly. Harry wasn’t very fast with a wand. In fact, his father always beat him in magical duels, which was why Sirius’s first instinct was always to grab his wand—while Harry’s was to clench his fists for a punch.
"Why shouldn’t I kill you right now?" Sirius growled, his expression dark.
Scooch considered his words for a second before breaking into a small, nostalgic smile. Why was that?
"If you want to get the bells, you’ll have to come at me like you truly intend to, Sir Sirius," the elf said. Seeing the confused looks on both the man and the boy, he explained, "That’s how the Lady tested our progress throughout our training. The elves refer to it with great respect as the ‘Bell Test.’"
"You mean you had to stop Lyra from getting the bells?" Harry asked. Had his sister managed to do it?
Scooch looked at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. It was strange—Harry couldn’t recall ever hearing the elves laugh at anything. In fact, he only knew they were there because Lyra had introduced them to him when he was eight years old, when they had gone to the kitchen to bake a birthday cake for their father. Most of the time, their existence was easily forgotten. Harry cursed himself for that now.
"No, Master Hadrian, we are the ones who have to take the bells from the Lady," Scooch explained as he caught his breath from laughing.
Sirius frowned deeply.
"Why did Lyra teach you to fight like this?"
"You didn’t know, Dad?" Harry frowned at his father.
"I knew they were being treated better, and that’s why they looked healthier, but I didn’t know… well, I didn’t know this!" He gestured emphatically at Scooch, who was dressed entirely in black, still holding the dagger he had used to threaten Harry. "Did you?"
"No," Harry wasn’t imagining how his father’s shoulders seemed to relax just a little at the information that he wasn’t the only one being kept in the dark. Harry turned to Scooch. "Why are you being trained?"
"Oh, Master Hadrian, I thought it was obvious: we are trained to protect the family," Scooch explained with a small smile at the boy. "Considering the kind of people who pose a threat to the current members of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, Lady Lyra deemed it appropriate that we, the House Guardians, possess skills befitting the level of the threat."
"Death Eaters," Harry said. He knew there were many who had never been caught by the Ministry and who might come after him at Hogwarts, where he would be far from his father and the protections of the family estate. He would be confined to a school that, despite what everyone seemed to think, wasn’t that hard to infiltrate.
"Voldemort," Sirius added, giving the elf a more scrutinizing look.
"Correct. I, Scooch, have been designated as Master Hadrian’s personal guardian. If necessary, you may call upon me anywhere, and I will do what is required to reach you," the elf spoke in a smooth tone. "In the event of a perceived attack, my priority is to ensure your safety. These are the directives until you turn at least fifteen. After that, I must follow your instructions rather than risk possible strategies in an independent move."
Harry blinked, unable to believe it. He...
"I have a personal elf?!" His tone must have sounded as incredulous as he felt because Scooch chuckled slightly again.
"I am still an elf of House Black, but since you belong to the family, I must protect you. I don’t know what will happen when you become Lord Potter, sir. I believe we could discuss a new contract with the Lady at that point," Scooch mused.
"Do you protect all members of House Black?" Sirius’s eyes were narrowed in suspicion, though it no longer seemed directed at Scooch himself. "Anyone with Black blood?"
"No. Even though Lord Sirius is acting as the political Head of House, the true Head is Lady Lyra, and therefore only those she classifies as family members are included. When we were hired, we all had to learn which members were considered part of the family and which were not," Scooch explained, and his previous smile disappeared, replaced by a completely neutral expression that reminded Harry of Lyra. "Members distanced from the Blacks for more than two generations do not qualify, just like Bellatrix Lestrange, who disgraced the House. Any additions to the family must be informed by the Lady. Arthurus, Cygnus, and Cassiopeia have certain privileges as elders, but they hold no true power over us elves. Lady Narcissa has the authority to summon us, but it is up to us to decide whether we are willing to respond. Master Draco, like Master Hadrian and Lord Sirius, has his own Black elf to protect him in case of danger."
"The old ones don’t?" Sirius frowned.
"No, the elders do not," Scooch inclined his head, considering his words. "I’m afraid we would need more elves to protect them in addition to the family estate."
It seemed that wasn’t the whole truth, but Harry didn’t think he would get more than that out of the elf. Why wouldn’t Lyra bother to protect the older family members?
Sirius lowered his wand. There was an unspoken understanding between them that they would clear things up first before resuming training.
"When did Lyra start training you?"
"The same day we were acquired, Lord Sirius," Scooch said with an ironic smile. "We had many bad habits to unlearn."
"Such as?"
"A concerning tendency for self-punishment and extreme cowardice," Scooch rolled his eyes. "Eager obedience to any orders given."
That was how Harry had discovered elves from other places were, so it wasn’t exactly surprising that Black elves had been like that before. Sirius laughed at that, though, a half-snorted, surprised laugh.
"I imagine she didn’t like that very much," he remarked, and Scooch smiled at Sirius as if they shared a secret.
"Lady Lyra considers herself too good to be surrounded by slaves," Scooch joked, and although the words sounded a bit harsh, there was some affection there. Harry wasn’t sure how he should interpret this conversation.
Scooch stepped back and took on a familiar combat stance. "Are we training or not?"
Sirius huffed but got back into position, his wand ready to go, and Harry cursed his slowness in wandless magic, which made the skill practically useless in real combat. How he wished for a wand. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option yet, so he just took a stance with his fists clenched and raised near his face in a guard position.
"Begin," Scooch declared before disappearing again with a pop.
Suffice it to say, Sirius and Harry got their asses handed to them by a three-foot-tall elf. It would have been more humiliating if not for the sudden realization of how incredible elf magic was.
While most wizards needed a wand as a medium to externalize their magic, as well as perfectly executed spells and movements for each expected result, elves could make anything happen with a snap of their fingers. Literally a snap. No memorized incantations, no fancy wand movements. They just... did.
At no point did Sirius and Harry even get close to reaching the bell. And to think they had believed they were strong before.
When Scooch finally ended the training, he also brought them snacks, towels for their sweat, and a first aid kit for the few times Harry had managed to hold a fight against the elf for a few seconds. He still lost easily.
Scooch could simply appear and disappear anywhere with nothing but a sound to announce it, but everything happened so fast that neither Harry nor his father could react in time. The elf’s strikes were always precise and painful enough to delay them from countering his next move.
"Try treating your own wounds, Master Hadrian," Scooch presented the open kit and pointed to each item. "Even though it is my job to take care of you, it would be negligent not to prepare you in case I am unable to."
"I don’t think you’d lose to anyone," Sirius muttered, lying beside them as he watched Harry start tending to the scratches on his knuckles before picking up the bandage and wrapping his fingers. Sirius himself began treating his own minor wounds.
"As skilled as I am now, Lord Sirius, I am neither invincible nor immortal," Scooch spoke calmly about his own possible death. "I also cannot enter Hogwarts easily. There are specific protections to keep house-elves out, or the purebloods would always be summoning their own servants to cater to their whims."
"But it’s not impossible," Harry observed.
"No, Master Hadrian," Scooch confirmed. "When the Lady informed me that I would be responsible for you, I sought ways to infiltrate Hogwarts. The Forbidden Forest is the easiest access point, but remaining in the castle throughout the school year would be... difficult. The castle’s house-elves have eyes everywhere."
Sirius stared at the ceiling, contemplative, while Harry digested the fact that he would be constantly watched when he was at Hogwarts in a few years. Disturbing, to say the least.
"Tell me, Scooch, have any of you ever managed to take Lyra’s bells?" his father asked, and it was impossible to know what was going through his mind.
"No, Lord Sirius, we have never succeeded in the four years we have been here," Scooch admitted easily. Sirius frowned even more, and Harry felt himself going pale at the realization of just how strong Lyra really was.
"I know that if Harry really wants to sacrifice himself to save people, he'll have to kill me first, or it will all be in vain," she said with a mad smile, her eyes focused on Harry. "So, Hadrian, if you really want to follow this plan, I suggest you train more because I’m not an easy person to kill."
Maybe Sirius was remembering the same thing as Harry, because his expression was grave as he continued staring at the ceiling of the training hall. Unlike Harry, however, he didn’t seem surprised.
"Lady Lyra is not easy to defeat," Scooch mused in the silence that followed. "She is favored by Lady Magic, after all."
Harry sighed. Yes, his sister had a remarkable ease in controlling her own magic, in understanding the magic around her. But he never saw it as the favor of some deity because he had seen how much she trained and studied daily to achieve it. He had seen all her notebooks filled with notes and theories. Her brilliance was the result of effort, not the blessings of any god.
Sirius, however, seemed to think differently.
"I've seen her summon the magic of the earth itself before… I’ve never seen anyone else do the same," he said, distracted, almost as if he were thinking out loud.
Harry recalled the memory of the night his parents died, the one he had seen in the Pensieve. He remembered how the very air seemed alive as Lyra performed some kind of magic over his body to protect him from the Horcrux’s influence.
"Well, of course," Scooch said, as if it were the only explanation needed. "Lady Magic is a very proud being."
"What does that mean?" Harry frowned. He had never been religious, so even though the name wasn’t unfamiliar to him, no one in his family was devoted to the deity. Certainly not Lyra. Any gift given to her was not the result of fervent prayers or sacrifices in Her name.
Scooch tilted his head, considering, his mind working to understand the boy’s doubt, and his eyes widened slightly in realization when he seemed to reach a conclusion.
"Oh, yes. You see, Lady Magic doesn’t like when her magic is disregarded, so she rarely favors those who offend her," Scooch explained. "Lady Lyra, curious as she is, has always shown proper respect to all branches of magic."
"Are you talking about dark magic?" Sirius frowned. "There are plenty of people out there who respect all types of magic, Scooch."
"Tell me, Mister Sirius, when you arrived here, did you think the training would be easy? Why is that?" Scooch asked, and his father’s silence was the only answer. "Wizards look at house-elves and other creatures and see only inferior beings, even though they, too, are gifted with magic. Lady Magic feels offended when she is disregarded in this way."
Harry stared at the ceiling as well, stunned.
He, who had spent so much time practically as a slave to the Dursleys, should have known that just because someone was doing domestic work like cleaning and cooking, it didn’t make them inferior. Even if unconsciously, Harry had followed the herd mentality, absorbing some of the prejudices of the magical society—prejudices so widely accepted that no one really questioned them. Maybe if his elves had been malnourished and mistreated like those outside the estate, he would have thought more about it. But would he have seen potential in them beyond simply being free?
As if he could read his mind, Scooch spoke.
"When Lady Lyra looked at us, all she saw was potential. Greatness," he said, reverently. "She didn’t see what we were but what we could become and made sure we got there. She still expects performance reports to see how we’ve progressed and whether any of us show a unique talent to be developed. She wants us to grow. She wants to see what we can do with the freedom and power we’ve been given. If that doesn’t make Lady Magic love her, what would?"
Indeed.