LAPD Police Academy — Third Day of Sniper Certification
The training field seemed like a place apart from the world.
The wind blew steadily, bringing fine dust that seeped into clothes, backpacks, and thoughts.
The silence wasn’t absolute; there was the distant sound of the city, the occasional bird’s song, but it was an intentional, constructed silence.
Snipers learned there that the world didn’t need to stop for them to do their job.
Harry Potter had been lying in observation position for over forty minutes.
Morse body.
Controlled breathing.
Attentive, but relaxed eyes.
In front of him, an open field with varying elevation, camouflaged targets, some real, others fake.
A scenario set up to deceive the brain exactly like on the street.
Behind the firing line, a few meters away, Cris Alonso observed everything in silence, arms crossed, dark glasses hiding part of her expression.
She didn’t correct Harry.
“It wasn’t necessary.”
“Impressive…” someone murmured beside her.
Cris didn’t answer.
On the other side of the field, a small group walked towards the observation area reserved for officers.
Angela Lopez was in front, wearing sunglasses, her expression attentive.
Beside her were Talia Bishop and Tim Bradford, the latter still slightly cautious because of his shoulder, but visibly curious.
Sergeant Wade Grey followed closely behind, and finally, Captain Zoe Anderson.
Her presence did not go unnoticed.
Secondary instructors straightened their posture.
Some candidates glanced discreetly over their shoulders.
Cris turned around when she noticed the group.
“Captain,” she said, taking off her sunglasses.
“I wasn’t expecting visitors today.”
Zoe shook her hand firmly.
“I know this is your territory,” she said.
“We’re just observing.”
Cris nodded.
“They’re always welcome,” she replied sincerely.
Angela was direct, as always.
“So…” she said, looking in Harry’s direction, “how’s he doing?”
Cris let out a slow breath, almost an incredulently restrained laugh.
“It depends on what you call ‘doing,'” she replied.
Talia frowned.
“That didn’t sound reassuring.”
Cris gestured with her head, indicating that they should move back a little so as not to interfere with the firing line.
“Come on,” she said.
“I’ll explain.”
They walked a few meters, keeping enough distance not to distract the candidates.
“Potter…” Cris began, “isn’t competing with the others here.”
Tim crossed his arms.
“That was already clear.”
“No,” Cris corrected.
“I mean literally.
He’s operating on another level of reference.”
Angela smiled slightly.
“I had that impression.”
Cris placed his hands on his hips.
“I made a point of observing him from the very first exercise,” he said.
“Posture, terrain reading, wind calculation… all of that is too refined for someone who ‘learned quickly’.”
Zoe kept her gaze fixed on Harry, still motionless.
“You’re saying he already knew all of that,” she said.
“I’m saying he’s already lived it,” Cris replied.
Wade tilted his head.
“In real combat.”
“Yes,” Cris confirmed.
She paused, as if still processing her own realization.
“When he mentioned that 2.7-kilometer shot…” she continued, “I went to check.”
Angela’s eyes widened slightly.
“Check how?”
“Contacts,” Cris replied.
“Cross-records.
Reports that aren’t exactly public.”
Zoe understood immediately.
“And?”
Cris let out a short, incredulous laugh.
“It’s real,” he said.
“Confirmed in combat.”
The group fell silent.
Tim was the first to speak.
“That’s…” he searched for the word, “that’s practically a world record.”
“It is,” Cris confirmed.
“It’s among the longest confirmed shots in modern history.”
Angela shook her head slowly.
“And he never mentioned it here.”
“Because it doesn’t matter to him,” Cris replied.
“And that’s the scariest part.”
Talia crossed her arms.
“Scary how?”
“Snipers who rely on past feats tend to make mistakes,” Cris explained.
“Potter doesn’t do that.
He treats each scenario as if it were the first.”
Zoe watched silently.
“And technically?” she asked.
“Where does he fail?”
Cris took a few seconds to answer.
“Honestly?” he said.
— I’m still trying to figure it out.
Angela blinked.
— Are you telling me that… — she began — you have nothing to teach him?
Cris took a deep breath.
— In terms of pure fundamentals?
— she replied.
— Very little.
Wade frowned.
— That’s not something I expected to hear from you.
Cris turned to him.
— I didn’t expect to say that either.
— she replied frankly.
She looked again at Harry, who was now adjusting his position slightly, almost imperceptibly.
— He’s better than me.
— she said finally.
— Technically, emotionally, in reading the scene.
The silence that followed was heavy.
Angela broke it first, in a low tone:
— And that doesn’t bother you?”
Cris smiled slightly.
“It would bother me if he were arrogant,” she said.
“But he isn’t.”
She made a short gesture with her hand.
“He asks questions,” she continued.
“Good questions.
Questions that someone experienced asks to confirm, not to show off.”
Talia nodded slowly.
“Then why is he here?”
Cris turned to her.
“Because he wants to belong to this system, not operate outside of it,” she said.
“He wants to learn our rules, even though he already knows his own.”
Zoe finally spoke, her voice firm.
“Would you recommend certification?”
Cris didn’t hesitate.
“Without reservations,” she replied.
“He already meets the standard.
Now we’re just formally validating it.”
Angela let out a long breath, half laugh, half sigh.
“I knew he was good…” she said, “but this…”
Tim shook his head.
“This explains a lot.” Wade crossed his arms.
“Is he still being tested like the others?”
Cris nodded.
“Yes,” he said.
“Same level of demand.
Same tiredness.
Same stress.”
“And how does he react?” Zoe asked.
“Like someone who’s been much worse,” Cris replied.
“He stays quiet.
He observes.
He waits.”
She paused briefly.
“He’s not trying to pass,” she said.
“He’s just… being.”
On the firing line
The exercise was over.
“Safe line!” an instructor announced.
Harry stood up calmly, stretching his body slowly, like someone respecting every muscle.
Cris approached him.
“Potter,” she called.
Harry turned immediately.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
Harry thought for a second.
“Tired,” he replied.
— But in a good way.
Cris nodded.
— Any questions?
— she asked.
Harry hesitated for a moment.
— Yes.
— he said.
— In an urban setting, with multiple reflections… what has been your preferred approach to minimizing parallax error?
Cris blinked once.
Then smiled.
— Good question.
— she said.
— Let’s talk about it.
Angela watched from a distance, a discreet smile on her face.
— He’s asking for advice.
— she murmured.
Zoe nodded.
— And that… — she said — is what keeps him human.
After training
When the exercise officially ended, Cris returned to the group.
— He’ll pass.
— she said directly.
— No drama.
Zoe nodded.
— Thank you for your honesty.
— she said.
Cris looked at the captain attentively.
“Captain…” he said, “you know what you have in your hands, right?”
Zoe held her gaze.
“I know,” she replied.
“And I know what I don’t want him to become here.”
Cris smiled slightly.
“Then he’s in the right place.”
Angela looked once more at Harry, now seated, calmly cleaning his equipment.
“Funny…” she said.
“He could be anywhere in the world.”
“And he chose Mid-Wilshire,” Tim added.
Wade shook his head.
“Sometimes the best…” he said, “just want a place where they don’t have to prove anything.”
Zoe watched Harry for a longer moment.
“And we’re going to make sure he doesn’t,” she said.
As the group walked away, the wind continued to blow across the firing range.
Harry remained there, focused, silent.
He didn’t know and probably never would that, on that day, his instructor had admitted something rare:
That there wasn’t much more to teach.
But that didn’t matter.
Because Harry Potter wasn’t there to be the best.
He was there to belong.
And, in that controlled silence, that had already been achieved.
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