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Heavy is the Crown (Harry Potter) Chapter 104: Farewell
🕑 Added 2025-10-01 00:11:50 +0000 UTC[Third Person POV]
Arthur and Merlin stepped out of the Pendragon Vault together, the heavy doors groaning as they began to seal shut behind them. Arthur carried two weighty tomes in his arms, resting lazily atop the books was a small coin pouch that jingled with each of his steps. Perched on Arthur’s shoulder, Cosmo hung with half-lidded eyes, his little body draped over Arthur with lazy energy.
Merlin, by contrast, seemed perfectly at ease, leaning on her staff as though it were nothing more than a walking stick. Both their gazes were pulled to the same sight—Sylvia.
The young dragon was sliding gleefully down the broad length of Seraphenix’s tail, her delighted laughter bouncing across the cavern walls. Sylvia launched herself into the air with a spin, wings flaring awkwardly for balance before she landed on her rear, skidding across the stone floor. She clapped her paws together, her voice ringing out like a bell, “Again! Again! Hehehe!”
Without hesitation, she bounded back onto all fours, darting in circles around Seraphenix’s massive limbs. The mother dragon held herself with her usual poise, but her expression betrayed her weariness. She glanced at Arthur with eyes that seemed to roll despite their ancient, regal glow.
“This one,” Seraphenix sighed, her voice carrying a dramatic heaviness, “surely is nothing but a great ball of restless energy.”
Arthur couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. “I can’t help but wonder… were you this energetic when you were younger as well?” His eyes flicked between mother and daughter.
The dragon tilted her head toward him, narrowing her gaze. “When I was younger? Are you perhaps calling me old, Artorius?”
Arthur froze, his posture stiffening. “Uhh… I didn’t mean—”
Merlin’s laughter broke the tension. She shook her head, clearly amused. “Don’t let her fool you. Among dragons, being called old is one of the highest compliments you could give. Their age equates to wisdom, not frailty. And besides—” Merlin gave Seraphenix a knowing smirk, “—she was worse. So much worse at the start.”
“I was but a hatchling,” Seraphenix replied defensively, looking away as though embarrassed by her own memory. “New to the world and curious of everything it held. What else would you expect of me?”
The way her eyes softened, almost bashful, struck Arthur as disarmingly human. He stifled a laugh, though it escaped as a quiet chuckle all the same.
Their lighthearted exchange carried on, back and forth, until Arthur noticed Goburk standing a little ways off. The goblin was doing his best to mask his impatience, arms crossed and jaw set, though his eyes betrayed the urge to get moving. Out of respect, he didn’t interrupt, but Arthur knew they couldn’t linger.
“As much as I wish we could stay and talk longer,” Arthur said with clear reluctance, “we have other matters to attend to. Our schedule is… a little less forgiving than I’d like.”
Sylvia’s ears twitched, and her playful energy faltered. Her eyes darted between Arthur and her mother. “We’re… we’re leaving already?” she asked, her voice trembling. The light in her gaze dimmed as she had found her way on Seraphenix’s snout.
Merlin stepped closer, taking the books from Arthur’s arms to free his hands. Arthur crouched low, placing one hand against Seraphenix’s warm snout while the other gently stroked Sylvia’s back. “I’m sorry, little one,” he said softly, his words carrying weight. “I know it’s hard to say goodbye so soon after finding each other. But I promise you—this isn’t the last time. You’ll see her again.”
Sylvia’s throat tightened as she swallowed back a sob. “But… can’t she just come with us? Can’t you come too, Mother?” Her pleading eyes darted desperately between the two of them.
Seraphenix lowered her head, giving her to Arthur, her massive body curling protectively around the girl. Her voice was firm, yet tender with maternal warmth. “My duty lies here, Sylvia. I cannot abandon my post. But listen—why don’t you go with your father, make new memories, and then come back to share them with me? I will be waiting, eager to hear every detail of your adventures.”
Sylvia’s chest heaved as she hiccupped, fat tears slipping down her scaled cheeks. Each drop hit the stone floor with a faint splatter, echoing in the cavern’s quiet. She tried to wipe her face with the back of her paw but only smeared the wetness further.
Arthur’s heart splintered at the sight of Sylvia trembling in his arms, her tears soaking into his tunic. Carefully, almost reverently, he drew her closer and held her against his chest, one hand rubbing gentle circles down her spine. His voice softened into a whisper meant only for her ears. “Don’t worry, alright? This isn’t really a goodbye. Goodbyes… they’re forever. This is more of a ‘see you later.’”
Sylvia sniffled hard, the hiccuping rhythm of her breath pulling at Arthur’s chest with every shudder. Seraphenix lowered her massive claw, her touch surprisingly delicate as she pressed it against her daughter’s face, wiping away the trail of tears with the flat of her talon.
“I need you to remember this,” Seraphenix said, her voice rumbling with both strength and warmth. “Especially when you start to feel the ache of missing me. We will always be connected—you and I—by our bond and by our blood. No distance, no barrier, can change that.”
Sylvia nodded against Arthur’s chest, her small claws curling into his tunic. She rubbed at her swollen eyes with her paws, her sniffles quieting little by little.
“Now,” Seraphenix said with a playful gleam breaking through the sorrow in her gaze, “why don’t you see me off with that bright smile you showed me earlier?”
Sylvia’s lips pulled back, baring her razor-sharp teeth in an exaggerated grin, the corners trembling as she tried to hold the expression steady. It was raw and uneven, but the effort was there—her attempt to look brave for her mother.
Arthur chuckled softly, and even Seraphenix let out a small laugh, her shoulders shaking ever so slightly. The sound lightened the heaviness in the cavern, if only for a heartbeat.
From the sidelines, Nicholas leaned over toward Perenelle and whispered, “Are you catching any of this?”
Perenelle forced a strained smile, shaking her head slightly. “Not a single word.” To them, it’s all just growls… but they were still able to understand the intent behind it, only if briefly.
The group shared a round of farewells, words heavy with unspoken promises. At last, Arthur adjusted Sylvia in his arms and turned toward the cart. Cosmo clung to Arthur’s opposite shoulder, his sleepy eyes watching as Sylvia’s gaze refused to leave Seraphenix, even as the distance grew.
“Let’s go,” Arthur murmured gently, his hand still running along Sylvia’s back, trying to soothe the quiet tremors of her body.
The cart shuddered and rattled to life, its gears grinding as it began to move along the tracks. The stone walls blurred slowly past them, and Sylvia, cheeks still damp, drew in a deep breath. Then she opened her mouth and unleashed her best attempt at a roar. Though high-pitched and childish in tone, there was power coiled within it—an echo of the strength that slumbered in her blood.
Seraphenix’s lips curled into a proud smile. She lifted her head, her chest expanding with a deep, rumbling inhale. Then, with a force that shook the very cavern, she let loose a roar that dwarfed Sylvia’s. The sound reverberated like thunder, rattling the tracks beneath the craft and sending showers of dust and tiny stones cascading from the ceiling.
Nick, Penny, and Goburk scrambled, clutching the sides of the craft while simultaneously trying to shield their ears from the deafening cry. Goburk cursed under his breath, his beard shaking from the vibration.
Merlin, unbothered, raised her staff with a flick of her wrist. A protective barrier shimmered above them, shielding the group from the falling debris. She smirked faintly, as though the roaring contest amused her more than it unsettled her.
Sylvia, meanwhile, was giggling now. Her earlier tears had dried into faint streaks, replaced with a small but genuine smile of contentment. She rested her chin on Arthur’s shoulder, eyes fixed on the shrinking glow of Seraphenix’s silhouette behind them. The cavern slowly swallowed the figure until only fading light remained.
A moment of silence passed before Sylvia spoke, her tone carrying a gravity uncharacteristic for her age. “I have a goal…”
Arthur and Merlin exchanged a glance, sensing the shift in her voice. Arthur adjusted his hold on her, giving her his full attention. “What kind of goal?” he asked softly.
Sylvia’s claws clenched against his tunic, her eyes unwavering as she declared, “I promise I’ll be just as strong and beautiful as my mother… No,” her voice rose with conviction, ringing against the rumble of the craft, “I promise I’ll be even stronger and more beautiful!”
Arthur’s lips curved into a tender smile. He pressed a kiss to the side of her head, the warmth of her scales cool beneath his lips. “That is a worthy goal indeed. Striving toward something you believe in… it will keep you moving forward. I believe in you”
Merlin nodded, her tone unusually gentle. “A beautiful goal, and one well worth chasing. If you keep that determination, Sylvia, I believe you’ll grow into exactly what you aspire to be.”
Sylvia leaned further into Arthur’s embrace, her tail curling loosely around his arm as her breathing steadied
