Chapter 13: Blades and Sigils
Winter gripped Hogwarts with icy fingers, coating the castle's towers in sparkling frost and turning the lake into a mirror of ice. For most students, the cold meant staying indoors, drinking hot chocolate, and avoiding the bitter winds. For Harrison and his inner circle, however, the frozen landscape was the perfect training ground.
With the recent attack during Halloween still fresh in their minds, Harrison knew he had to ensure his friends could defend themselves. Evil rarely waited until one was ready, and the next encounter could be far deadlier.
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The Training Begins
It was early on a Saturday morning when Harrison summoned his group to the Room of Requirement. With a thought, the door appeared before them, nestled within the seventh-floor corridor, behind a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.
The room shifted and formed into a wide courtyard of sandstone, mimicking an Egyptian training arena. The air shimmered with desert heat, and magical braziers lined the edges, casting golden light. Tall statues of Anubis and Horus stood silent watch.
Present were Harry, Daphne, Hermione, Fred, George, and Cedric Diggory. All had shown commitment, courage, and the potential to learn beyond the traditional Hogwarts curriculum.
"Welcome to your first lesson in combat magic," Harrison began, his voice steady. "We'll cover Ancient Egyptian sigil casting, staff combat, and swordplay. Each of you will be pushed—physically and magically."
Hermione raised a hand. "Will we be learning in Egyptian or English?"
"Egyptian," Harrison replied. "Magic spoken in its original tongue is more potent. Don't worry—I'll teach you the phrases."
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Sigils and Shields
Harrison began with sigil casting. He explained that sigils were visual spells, drawn into the air with willpower and intent.
"Visualize the symbol," he instructed, drawing a glowing glyph in front of him. "Then infuse it with mana. The more precise your control, the stronger the effect."
He demonstrated the basic barrier sigil: Hekka-Aset, meaning "Shield of Isis."
Harry struggled at first, his lines shaky, but his intent was strong. Daphne's sigils were crisp, revealing a talent for detail. Hermione quickly picked up the language structure and offered linguistic feedback. Fred and George turned it into a game, competing to make their shields more flamboyant.
Cedric, steady and quiet, produced the most balanced result of all.
"Excellent," Harrison said, nodding. "Now let's add some movement."
He conjured magical projectiles—balls of condensed air—and hurled them at the group. The trainees responded by activating their glyphs, creating barriers. Only two blocked the shots completely—Daphne and Cedric.
"Again," Harrison commanded.
They repeated the exercise for hours, sweat dripping from brows, robes soaked.
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The Dance of Blades
Next came sword training. Harrison summoned four weapons from his past lives and laid them on an obsidian table: Percy's celestial bronze sword Anaklusmos, Jason's imperial gold gladius, Nico's shadow-forged Viking blade, and Carter's enchanted khopesh.
"These are relics," Harrison said. "Forged by gods, tempered in myth. You'll train with replicas until you've proven worthy."
He conjured practice swords—wooden at first, later transitioning to magically tempered steel.
"Stances first. Swordplay isn't brute force. It's rhythm. A dance."
He moved with fluid grace, demonstrating the forms of Egyptian sword combat. His khopesh whirled in wide arcs, tracing circles of energy.
"Fred, George—you'll spar. Cedric, you're with me. Daphne, Hermione—you'll take turns with Harry."
The room echoed with the clash of metal and the grunts of effort. Feet shuffled on warm sandstone, blades clashed, and spells flared.
Harrison corrected stances, redirected blows, and praised precision. Fred's aggression got him disarmed twice. Hermione's focus let her parry Harry's swings effortlessly. Daphne showed a surprising ferocity, her blade movements sharp and disciplined.
By evening, bruises bloomed, shirts clung with sweat, and limbs trembled from exertion.
"You've done well," Harrison said, handing out conjured canteens. "But this is only the beginning."
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Magic and Motion
The next week saw the addition of hybrid training—casting while dueling.
"Combat magic requires you to cast without full chants. Think of your magic as an extension of your body," Harrison explained.
He drew a line in the sand. "Cross it without getting hit."
He raised his staff. As they attempted to cross, he unleashed stunning spells, disarming hexes, and bolts of air. They had to dodge, shield, and retaliate while maintaining their footing.
Harry was reckless but agile, diving past several spells. Daphne used misdirection, drawing fire with illusions. Hermione combined speed with sharp counters. Cedric didn't rush; he waited, observed, then moved like a shadow.
Even Fred and George took it seriously—mostly.
"I think I got singed!" Fred cried.
"You got toasted!" George replied, laughing.
Harrison smirked. "You two get a double round."
By the end of the week, the entire group had gained the basics of battlefield discipline. Harrison introduced tactical formations, wandless casting techniques, and defensive runes for future duels.
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A Gift of Flame
One evening, Harrison approached Daphne and Harry.
"You're ready for your first real weapons," he said.
He handed Daphne a slender blade—an obsidian dagger infused with protective spells. "This belonged to a priestess of Sekhmet. It'll amplify your illusions."
To Harry, he gave a short sword—a blend of bronze and stygian steel. "This blade doesn't just cut. It reveals truth. Like you, it strikes cleanly, without deception."
They both accepted the gifts with reverence.
"I'll make you armor next," Harrison promised.
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Progress and Purpose
By the end of December, the training had bore fruit.
Hermione's control over sigils rivaled advanced spellwork.
Daphne had blended illusions and swordplay into an elegant, deceptive style.
Harry had developed a fierce, unrelenting combat rhythm—raw but powerful.
Fred and George had begun synchronizing their movements, turning chaos into an unpredictable advantage.
Cedric stood apart as the most balanced—graceful, logical, and lethal.
One night, as snow fell over Hogwarts, the group stood atop the Astronomy Tower, looking over the frozen grounds.
"We're not just training to fight," Harrison said, gazing at the stars. "We're preparing for war. Voldemort is not the only threat. The world is darker than the history books admit."
"Then we'll be its light," Daphne said.
Harrison smiled faintly as he turned back to them, the wind rustling his cloak. "Then let us burn bright enough to chase away the shadows."