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Heavy is the Crown (Harry Potter) Chapter 82: Lounging (2)
🕑 Added 2025-08-07 13:05:41 +0000 UTC[Third person POV]
“Okay, but seriously,” Gwyneth said, squinting at Merlin with a confused look, “where did you pull that sword from?”
Merlin sighed and gave her a deadpan look, shifted the sword slightly as she examined its weight. “I could make another inappropriate joke and say that, as a woman, I have different pockets,” she replied dryly. “But I’ll spare you the mental image and just say I used magic to summon it. That’s less embarrassing for everyone involved.”
Gwyneth blinked, clearly caught between curiosity and mild horror. She looked over at Arthur, who had his hand over his mouth, trying and failing to hold in his laughter.
“You’re such a weird person, Mer-lynn,” Gwyneth said with a chuckle, her voice full of amusement.
“Thank you,” Merlin said, giving a mock bow, “I consider it one of my finest qualities.” She turned her attention to Lance and thrust the sword toward him with elegant flair. “Now stop making me hold this ridiculously overdesigned blade and take it already.”
Lance caught the sword with a fumble, clearly not expecting her to shove it so suddenly into his arms. He turned it over in his hands, inspecting the jet-black blade with a skeptical eye. “Isn’t this the same sword that the Metal Knight was using?”
“Yes,” Merlin said, plopping down onto the large bean bag next to Arthur with a satisfied sigh. “I created a replica and gave it to Dumbledore as a decoy while I stashed the real one away for safekeeping.”
Lance glanced between the two of them, utterly perplexed. “Okay, but why are you giving it to me? I wasn’t the one who defeated him. This should be Arthur’s.”
Arthur, still seated, reached up and touched the pendant around his neck. “I already have a sword I’m happy with. I don’t need another one collecting dust. It would be a waste just to let this one rot in storage, and I figured—why not let someone worthy use it?”
Gwyneth tilted her head, looking confused. “But… aren’t you a dual wielder? Don’t you need two swords to… y’know, dual wield?”
Arthur waved dismissively. “Nah, not right now. There’s another sword I have my eye on, one that better suits my fighting style when I do decide to dual wield again. For now, I’m sticking to one blade. Besides,” he gave Gwyneth a look, raising an eyebrow, “how exactly do you know about that?”
Gwyneth shrugged, failing to look innocent. Merlin smirked quietly to herself, clearly not planning to answer that question.
Lance, still holding the blade, gave it another glance and said, “Not that I don’t appreciate the gift, but it’s really not my kind of weapon. I usually fight with a claymore, not a greatsword. This one needs to be a little more… streamlined.”
Arthur exchanged a glance with Merlin, the grin on his face widening. “Should I tell him, or do you want to?”
Merlin rolled her eyes, clearly used to this kind of setup. “Go ahead,” she said with a lazy wave. “I know how much you love your dramatic reveals.”
Arthur leaned forward slightly, raising a finger like a professor mid-lecture. “The sword is enchanted with two special spells. The first one’s called the All-Blade Enchantment. Basically, if you focus while holding the hilt, you can change the form of the blade into any kind of sword you want. Longsword, short sword, claymore—whatever fits your fighting style.”
Lance’s eyes lit up with sudden interest. He looked down at the blade and gripped it tighter. Closing his eyes, he imagined the sword shifting, transforming into a bastard sword. A ripple of light ran through the metal, and it changed shape right in his hands. Then, with another thought, he imagined a longsword, and the weapon adjusted again without a single sound. Finally, he visualized a claymore.
With a gleam of satisfaction, Lance tested the new weight, slicing the air with a smooth swing. He took a few steps back and moved through a quick series of slashes, pivoting with practiced footwork. The sword whistled through the air with each swing.
“Not bad,” he said with a grin, spinning it in his palm. “I really like this thing. Okay, what’s the second enchantment?”
Arthur leaned back with a smirk. “It’s unbreakable.”
Lance nearly dropped the sword in surprise. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope,” Arthur replied, stretching out his arms. “If there’s a limit to its durability, we haven’t found it yet. Still hasn’t so much as chipped during my battle with the knight. And my sword is extremely sharp that its able to cut through space, so that should tell you something”
Lance looked down at the smooth, flawless blade and nodded slowly, clearly impressed. “Cool… so, uh, where’s the sheath?”
Arthur rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yeah… that’s the one downside. It didn’t exactly come with one.”
“I see…” Lance narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “In that case…”
He focused on the weapon again. To Arthur and Merlin’s surprise, the blade shimmered briefly—then vanished, leaving behind only the hilt in his hand.
“…That works too,” Lance said with a grin, leaving both Arthur and Merlin surprised.
“Eh? How? What did you do?” Arthur asked, eyes wide with astonishment as he stared at the now-bladeless handle.
Lance gave a small shrug, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “Well, since I can imagine the blade into whatever form I want, I just pictured it as... no blade at all. Which basically makes it a handle,” he explained nonchalantly, then tucked the hilt into the inner pocket of his robe.
Gwyneth snorted a laugh. “Wow. I don’t even fully understand what’s going on, but even I can tell that was pretty clever.”
Lance offered her a quick, appreciative smile at the compliment, clearly pleased by their reactions. For a brief moment, pride flickered in his expression—subtle, but genuine.
He turned to Arthur and Merlin and gave a small, respectful bow. “Thank you… I honestly don’t know what I’ve done to deserve a gift like this, but I’m honored. Truly. I’ll do my best not to let it go to waste.”
Arthur gave a nod of approval, while Merlin tilted her head slightly and smiled faintly—both accepting his gratitude without needing to say much.
Meanwhile, Gwyneth glanced between the three of them, her eyes flicking down to the handle Lance had just stored away, then to the sword Arthur had demonstrated earlier. She gently stroked Sylvia’s fur, who was curled up lazily in her lap, before mumbling, “Should I get into this whole sword thing too? You three are making it sound so fun. And now that even Merlin turns out to be a swordswoman, I’m starting to feel a little left out here.”
Lance chuckled. “You could try it out if you're genuinely curious. But you'd need to figure out what kind of sword suits you best. Not all blades are created equal.”
Gwyneth tilted her head, intrigued. “What would you guys recommend then? You’re the experts here,” she said, motioning between Arthur and Lance, her expression betraying her complete lack of knowledge on swordplay.
The two men exchanged thoughtful looks.
“Hmm… maybe a short sword?” Lance offered, tapping his chin. “You’ve got a smaller build. That kind of weapon would probably complement your frame.”
Gwyneth’s expression dropped instantly. “Oi! Who are you calling small, huh?” she barked, glaring at him.
Arthur snorted a laugh but added his own thoughts. “Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of a rapier. You’re not particularly strong, you're pretty weak and a rapier doesn’t require a lot of brute force to use effectively. It’s light, fast, and elegant—perfect for someone with finesse over muscle.”
Gwyneth turned to Merlin, baffled. “Why am I suddenly being insulted? What did I do? And what even is a rapier? I’ve never heard of that in my life!”
Arthur, amused by her confusion, rose to his feet. “Allow me to demonstrate.”
He raised his hand and summoned Lance’s discarded wooden training sword from across the room. The blade soared toward him, and as he held it the magic circle within his glove activated, the wooden form shimmered and transformed—its texture shifting from coarse wood to polished steel. The blade grew long and slender, its handguard morphing into a beautiful rose-shaped flourish of metal.
“This,” Arthur said, holding the blade upright, “is a rapier. It’s a blade primarily used for stabbing and precise slashing. Grace over power.”
He placed one hand behind his back and struck a dueling pose with a flourish, angling the blade with elegant control.
“[Second-Tier Magic: Haste]!”
A green aura flared around him like a soft flame. Then, in a blur of movement, Arthur lunged forward, rapidly stabbing the air. The blade created multiple afterimages as it thrust forward so quickly that Gwyneth could barely follow. Each stab was a blur, every movement deliberate. Then, with equal elegance, he transitioned into slashes—slicing the air in swift arcs that caused audible whistles as the wind parted in his wake. The flexible blade seemed to dance in his hands, bending and curving as it moved in rhythm with his footwork.
“WHOA!” Gwyneth gasped, eyes sparkling with awe. “That was amazing! And the design—oh my gosh, the rose on the hilt is gorgeous! Can I hold it?”
Arthur gave her a nod and handed her the rapier as she passed Sylvia back to him. She gripped the blade carefully and held it out in front of her with giddy excitement.
“Ahaha!” she laughed, jabbing at the air playfully. “Stab! Stab! Stabby! Stabby! Stab! Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!”
Arthur groaned and face-palmed.
Lance and Merlin, meanwhile, burst out laughing.
After a minute of mock-dueling the air, Gwyneth wiped her forehead theatrically, as though she had just finished an intense workout. “Whew… that was way more fun than I expected. I can definitely see the appeal now.” She handed the rapier back to Arthur and stretched lazily. “Buuut as fun as that was, I’m too tired to think straight. I’ll maybe give it a proper go later. Right now? I just want to go to my dorm, crawl into my bed, and peacefully drift off into Lala Land.”
She stumbled dramatically back toward her bean bag chair, collapsed onto it like a ragdoll, and sighed in blissful exhaustion.
Everyone else in the room looked at one another in mutual exasperation, but couldn’t help smiling a little at her antics.
