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Heavy is the Crown (Harry Potter) Chapter 107: Late Night Study
🕑 Added 2025-10-06 22:11:45 +0000 UTC[Arthur's POV]
After the long and exhausting day we had, everyone had finally turned in for the night. The house had grown quiet, with only the soft creak of wood and the occasional whistle of wind outside the window breaking the silence. One by one, the lights from the other rooms dimmed out until only the faint glow of the moon seeped in through the curtains.
I, however, remained awake. Sleep felt distant. Instead, I sat cross-legged on my bed, my back pressed against the wall as I balanced my grimoire across my lap. The familiar weight of the book was oddly comforting.
My mind kept circling back to my earlier conversation with Merlin at the shop. Her words about how easier it becomes to create and shape magic circles the more one practices had been echoing in my head ever since. The concept fascinated me—how repetition and experience refined the understanding of a spell structure, how mastery wasn’t just about power, but understanding. If I could already feel a difference, how much more could I push this skill? How many new spells could I forge by experimenting with existing circles—by changing just a few runes, rearranging their order, or even blending attributes?
Driven by curiosity, I began flipping through the worn pages of my grimoire, scanning the inscriptions and diagrams until my gaze landed on one of my earliest spells: [Magic Bullet]. It was basic, yes, but versatile—simple enough to dissect and modify without too much risk.
“Alright… let’s start small,” I murmured under my breath.
I extended my right hand, focusing as I poured mana into the air before me. The familiar formation began to appear—a glowing circle etched with soft blue lines of energy. Within it, a small orb of condensed magical power floated.
I examined the runes that revolved around it. Being a first-tier spell, the formula was elementary—clean, symmetrical, and efficient, but with plenty of room for alteration. That simplicity made it the perfect candidate for experimentation. The runes themselves were the language of magic: each symbol acting as a command, defining the spell’s shape, its attribute, its effects, and even its behavior once released.
“So if I tweak this…” I whispered, dragging my finger through the air and rewriting a portion of the circle. “Instead of pure mana… let’s try converting the element to fire.”
The moment I replaced one of the primary runes with the sigil representing flame, I felt a surge run through me. My mana circuits flared to life. The circle’s glow shifted from soft blue to a bright, burning orange. Sparks crackled along the edges of the circle, and the orb in the center ignited into a small flame suspended midair.
The grimoire on my lap responded immediately, its pages fluttering as if caught in a phantom wind. The section dedicated to [Magic Bullet] began to shift—the ink expanding and reforming before my eyes. When the transformation settled, a new title appeared beneath the old one: [Fireball].
I couldn’t help but grin. “Nice,” I muttered to myself, admiring the newly formed entry. It wasn’t on the same destructive level as [Firebolt], but it was still satisfying to see my theory proven right. And best of all—it remained a first-tier spell. Efficient, simple, and now imbued with elemental power.
But I wasn’t done yet. Curiosity and ambition urged me to push it further. “Alright… what if I add to it? Increase the output, maybe expand the blast radius…”
The next phase took far longer. Every additional rune I tried to integrate made the circle harder to stabilize. The glowing lines flickered dangerously, threatening to collapse with every misstep. My mana was pouring out rapidly, sweat forming along my brow as I concentrated on maintaining balance. The air around me grew hot—heavy with the scent of burning.
At last, the circle stabilized. The flames within pulsed with new vigor, spinning faster until the air itself seemed to hum with energy. My grimoire responded once again, glowing faintly as new text etched itself into the parchment.
When it finally settled, the title gleamed proudly: [Tier 2: Fireball].
Leaning back, I exhaled, feeling both drained and exhilarated. The spell lacked the piercing precision and scorching temperature of [Firebolt], but what it lacked in intensity, it more than compensated for in range and area-of-effect.
“Wait a minute…” I paused mid-thought, eyes darting between the glowing magic circle and the lines in my grimoire. “Doesn’t this mean I just made [Magic Bullet] a Tier Two spell as well?”
A slow grin spread across my face as realization sank in. “Awesome…” I whispered, feeling a rush of excitement course through me. My mental fatigue vanished in an instant, replaced by a bubbling curiosity that made my fingers twitch with anticipation. “I honestly don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep tonight… this is addicting.”
Fueled by that thrill, I straightened up and cracked my knuckles. “Alright then… time to get busy.”
One by one, I began experimenting—altering the properties of the new [Fireball] spell to see just how far I could push the concept. Each change demanded intense focus, every adjustment of a rune shifting the entire balance of the circle’s energy.
When I switched the elemental property to water, the orb’s glow deepened into a tranquil blue, its texture rippling like liquid glass. The grimoire responded immediately, recording the new spell as [Water Sphere].
Next came earth—the circle dimmed, vibrating with a dense, heavy hum as the orb solidified into a chunk of rough stone. The title [Stone Bullet] etched itself neatly beside the others.
I moved on to wind—the rune patterns curved and elongated, spinning faster until a current of air twisted into existence. The new spell: [Gale Bullet].
Then lightning. The magic circle flared with white light, crackling arcs snapping across the room as a sphere of electricity formed. I barely had time to admire it before my grimoire added [Lightning Orb] to its growing list.
One after another, I continued—ice became [Snow Ball], light birthed [Photon Shot], and shadow/darkness—after much hesitation—produced [Dark Sphere].
By the time I finally exhaled and leaned back, nearly an hour and a half had passed. My bed was a mess—loose parchment scattered everywhere, my rune dictionary lying open beside me with several pages dog-eared and covered in notes. I had spent a good portion of that time carefully cross-referencing symbols, searching for a safe substitute for the darkness rune. The last thing I needed was to accidentally summon a manifestation of pure evil because of one careless mistranslation. Darkness and Evil were far too close in definition for comfort.
I stared at the newly expanded pages in my grimoire, each one filled with diagrams of glowing circles and meticulously written annotations. My heart thudded in disbelief. I had done it—eight, maybe nine entirely new spells, all derived from a single foundational circle.
A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. “Oh, I’m definitely not getting any sleep tonight.”
Without hesitation, I began flipping through the rest of my spells, eyes darting across the runes and incantations as possibilities bloomed in my head. “What next…?” I muttered, fingers brushing against a familiar page. “Maybe [Firebolt]. Couldn’t I just change that into a [Thunderbolt] spell? That should be the most logical choice, right?”
It was logical—but not easy.
The moment I began altering the runes, I realized this would be far trickier than before. The command structure of [Firebolt] resisted certain elemental changes. Some runes simply didn’t mesh well together; they fought for dominance, destabilizing the circle before I could even test them. Still, I pushed forward, stubbornly experimenting until I managed to coax four new, stable results.
The first was indeed [Thunderbolt], crackling and sharp. The second, [Darkbolt], hissed with shadowy power. The third, [Flash Freeze], froze the air around my fingertips with biting cold. And the last—[Photon Blast]—shone with a blinding radiance, almost too bright to look at directly.
It took me nearly two hours to get those four under control. My head was throbbing by the end of it, mana pathways aching from overuse. A few of the failed attempts nearly exploded in my face—tiny bursts of uncontrolled energy that I had to dissipate quickly before the noise woke the entire house.
Frustration mixed with pride as I slumped back against the wall. “Not exactly the perfect outcome,” I muttered, rubbing my temple. “But a win is still a win. I’ll take it.”
I let out a long breath, then reached up to touch the pendant hanging around my neck. Caliburn’s faint hum pulsed through my fingers, and within moments I felt my mana slowly replenishing. The soft golden light around the relic washed over me, easing the fatigue that had built up.
“Alright,” I said quietly, determination creeping back into my voice. “I’ll leave the rest of the second-tier spells for later.” My eyes drifted down toward a different section of the grimoire—one marked with a distinct, radiant seal. “What I really want to modify… is my third-tier spell.”
The page read: [Mana Burst].
Just the sight of it made my heart race. It was my most powerful and dangerous spell—a pure discharge of raw magical energy capable of obliterating almost anything in its path. If I could successfully change its elemental properties, that would be more than an improvement; it would be a complete revolution in my spellcasting.
I closed my eyes and smiled faintly. Outside, it was still dark out but I knew it wouldn't be long before the sun made its presence known. “The sun’ll be up in a few hours,” I whispered to myself. “Let’s see how many new variations I can make before sunrise.”
A grin tugged at the corners of my mouth. “If I can do more than four… I’ll call that my victory.”
