"Blades and Secrets"
"You'll tell us what's going on with you. It's not the same as when someone just wants to go after your mother. This time you looked defensive with Professor Dominic… for another reason," Draco asked, frowning as he stared fixedly at Harry.
The others looked at him as well, noticing the same strange nuance in his attitude.
Harry lowered his gaze for a moment, as if trying to sort his thoughts, and then spoke in a more serious tone.
"Luciel is a bit depressed. He tries to hide it, but you can tell. It all started after we were turned into babies… as if he suddenly remembered something he'd rather forget."
"Depressed?" Hermione repeated, tilting her head with a look of surprise.
"Well, more or less." Harry sighed, his eyes glimmering with reflection. "Do you remember when we returned to normal? At that moment, we ran into Professor Dominic while escaping from my mother. Luciel looked at him from afar… but it wasn't a normal look. It was fear. It lasted only an instant, and then he excused himself, saying he had something to do, and went off in another direction. I can't stop thinking about it. I don't want to dig too deeply… but it struck me as very suspicious. And besides, in the first Defense class, when my mother spoke with Dominic, I could feel it. It wasn't interest in her as a woman. There was something else in his gaze… something that unsettled me."
Daphne crossed her arms, thoughtful, though a slight smile played on her lips as she turned toward him.
"As for Luciel, there could be many reasons. Maybe he just doesn't like the professor. And about your mother… perhaps you misinterpreted it. It's still a form of interest, but your defensive mind may have confused it with something else. After all, Harry, you can be quite obsessive about those things. Like when Draco nearly lost his mind when a man was seen hanging around his mother."
Draco stiffened immediately, his face reddening in irritation at the memory of that incident.
Harry looked at him with a faint smile, amused yet weary.
"Maybe… I tend to exaggerate with these things," he admitted, as if trying to brush it aside. Still, even as he laughed lightly along with the others, deep down he knew he wouldn't let his guard down. That unease still pulsed within him, and just in case, he would keep his eyes on Professor Dominic.
…
After that day, although they had several classes with Professor Dominic—all of them instructive and thorough—Harry noticed nothing else unusual for a week. Little by little, they grew accustomed to the rhythm of Beauxbatons and even began extracurricular activities. When the time came to choose a second club, all the friends split into different options, but only Daphne chose fencing alongside him.
"Well, it's a pleasure to see our veteran members and, of course, I'm happy to welcome new ones. I hope you enjoy being here." Luciel's voice rang firm as he stood in the center of the room, dressed in white fencing attire, pristine gloves, and with a saber hanging at his belt.
Harry and Daphne were among the newcomers. Also dressed in regulation gear, each had chosen a different weapon: Daphne, a slender and elegant rapier; Harry, a saber that seemed to balance naturally in his hand.
For Harry, this wasn't just a game. He remembered all too well when Sirius had been forced to fight without magic in that dungeon. Learning to wield a weapon could make the difference. Besides, after seeing Wanda's memories, he and his friends had practiced martial arts, inspired by those swift and lethal movements that had impressed them so much.
"Harry, give me a hand explaining?" Luciel asked with a confident smile. The boy stepped forward, standing at his side.
Luciel pointed at Harry's saber and began his explanation with the assurance of a veteran.
"Each student can choose the sword that appeals most to them. But remember: every weapon has its own character. The rapier specializes in fast and precise thrusts, the saber in swift slashes taking advantage of its single edge, while double-edged swords require different movements to make use of both sides."
Some of the female students watched him more captivated by his smile than his words, sighing as though they were at a show rather than a class.
"Harry, do you already have fighting experience?" Luciel asked, ignoring the whispers of the girls.
"Martial arts," Harry replied calmly.
"That's good. Using a sword demands a lot from the body. And wizards, let's be honest, are usually weak physically. Many sign up and quit by the third class. Do you want to give it a try? I promise I'll hold myself back to your level."
Harry nodded, composed.
The moment Luciel adopted his defensive stance, the atmosphere shifted. The young man with the carefree smile transformed into a cold warrior, his presence filling the air like an invisible blade. His gaze sharpened, arrogant and proud, like a king accepting a challenge.
Harry noticed and, surprised, smiled faintly. His own aura turned icy, erasing every trace of emotion from his face. An expectant silence fell over the room. Daphne watched intently, excitement shining in her eyes.
Harry was the first to move: he advanced decisively and brought down a descending slash. Luciel slid aside with ease and countered with a horizontal cut at his chest. Harry rolled across the floor, escaping by a hair's breadth.
"When you strike downward, always keep your guard up. You've got good reflexes, but your movement trembled. It wasn't strength you lacked, but speed," Luciel explained, his tone that of a true instructor.
Harry looked at him with newfound respect.
"Remember: quick slashes," Luciel warned before charging at him. The saber gleamed in his hands with practiced skill. Harry dodged by pure instinct, each strike grazing him by inches. When he finally lifted his sword to block, the impact ran up his arm with such force that his fingers shook.
Immediately, Harry reacted: he lifted his leg and kicked Luciel in the chest, forcing him to stagger back several steps.
"Booo, that's cheating!" shouted some of the girls.
But Luciel raised his hand with a stern gesture.
"I myself said he could use martial arts. Or do you think in a real fight your enemy will fight under your conditions? If you face an archer, would you expect him to drop his bow and fight you hand-to-hand?"
The murmurs died out instantly.
Luciel lowered his gaze to his saber, running his fingers along the edge. "The sword is an art, yes. But it's also a weapon that can save your life if one day you have no magic." Then he turned back to Harry with a genuine smile. "Come on, show me your martial arts."
What followed was a fierce exchange. Harry dodged and counterattacked with kicks and spins, his saber barely managing to defend against Luciel's swift strikes. But the longer they fought, the clearer something unsettling became: Luciel was reading him. Adapting. Copying. Every dodge, every reflex of Harry's became predictable within seconds.
For the first time, Harry felt he was facing a true genius. Someone capable of matching him in strength and speed, but who also learned on the fly. And then it happened: a precise counterattack. The same kick Harry had used earlier struck him in the torso, and in the next instant, Luciel's saber was resting at his throat. Blunt, but decisive.
Harry drew a deep breath. He had been cleanly defeated.
The air shifted once more. The cold arrogance vanished, and Luciel returned to being the smiling young man he always appeared to be. He extended a hand toward him.
"Looks like you lost, Potter," he said lightly, helping him back to his feet.
For the first time in a long while, Harry had felt what it meant to face a true prodigy.
Everyone had fallen silent after witnessing that battle. The fencing hall still seemed to echo with the metallic clashes and quick footsteps. Some students were barely breathing, their eyes wide, as if they still couldn't grasp what they had seen: Harry and Luciel sprinting from one end of the hall to the other, rolling, rising, and throwing themselves back into combat with a mastery far beyond what anyone expected on the first day.
Luciel, his breathing calm despite the effort, looked at him with a spark of interest in his eyes.
"Where did you learn those movements?"
Harry, pulse still racing, smiled with quiet composure.
"I have a good teacher. And we learned them to improve our battle golems. When you know exactly how to move, you can make them fight better in the ring."
"I see." Luciel adjusted his saber with ease, as though the intensity of the duel had been nothing to him. "Then I'd love to get a golem that handles a sword. You know, in the wizarding world there are no fencing tournaments, only in the Muggle one. I once participated in one and… well, my family was rather upset. By the way, I won." His smile returned, light and arrogant all at once.
Harry regarded him with genuine respect.
"If you can make a golem move the way you handle your sword, you'll be a tough opponent in the ring."
He didn't feel bad about the loss; on the contrary, he accepted it naturally. There was always someone better at something, and that didn't discourage him—it pushed him forward.
"Since you've chosen the saber, I'll teach you myself," Luciel said with a firm nod.
"That's great," Harry replied, satisfied.
The atmosphere shifted again as the formal training of the fencing club began. And no, it wasn't about swinging swords around with spectacular moves or learning secret techniques. The first lesson was much simpler… and much harsher. Running. And running. And running, until their legs gave out.
Soon the truth became clear: most wizards lacked the physical condition even to think about wielding a sword seriously.
…
Later, in the dining hall, Hermione appeared carrying a mountain of books in her arms, as always. She found Harry, Draco, and Daphne sitting at a table, enjoying tea and cake.
"How was your day at the club?" she asked, letting the weight of the books drop onto the table with a dull thud.
"Interesting," Draco commented calmly, holding his cup with studied elegance.
"Painful," Daphne grumbled, rubbing her legs with obvious annoyance.
"Relaxing," said Harry, sitting as if nothing had happened, which earned him a furious glare from Daphne for not sharing her suffering. He simply ignored it and tossed the question back at Hermione. "And you?"
"More chaotic than I expected," she admitted with a sigh. "The discussions about the origins of wizards escalated way too fast. And I realized I still don't know as much as they do."
Harry eyed the pile of books she had brought.
"And you're going to try to catch up?"
"Of course," Hermione replied with determination, lifting her chin with a touch of pride.
….
N/A:
At first, Luciel wasn't meant to have much relevance; he was just another side character, someone who would show up from time to time without much weight in the plot. But as I kept writing, ideas kept popping into my head that didn't quite fit the main protagonists… and I realized Luciel was the perfect vessel to bring them to life.
So this arc will be special. Get ready, as always, to suffer a little and maybe even shed a tear, because I've been keeping a lot of lore stored away, waiting for the right moment to reveal it. Muahahaha.