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Heavy is the Crown (Harry Potter) Chapter 80: Room of Requirement
🕑 Added 2025-08-01 15:00:21 +0000 UTC[Third person POV]
"Alright," Arthur sighed, closing the book in front of him with a soft thud. "Now that the wager is set, follow me."
The others glanced at him curiously as he returned the book to its shelf. Merlin, the only one privy to Arthur’s intentions, raised an eyebrow. "Isn’t it a little early?" she asked, voice edged with skepticism.
“Early? It’s the middle of the afternoon,” Gwyneth muttered, casting a glance out the tall windows where the sun still hung high in the sky.
Arthur snickered. Lance, catching on, leaned in and explained, “I don’t think that’s what they’re talking about.”
Arthur smirked knowingly at Merlin. “Yup. But I’m too impatient. I want things to start already. Patience has never exactly been one of my strengths—if you haven’t noticed.”
Merlin exhaled sharply as she stood and followed him. “Yes, I HAVE noticed. You tend to rush into things when you should take your time. And yet…” she muttered, almost begrudgingly, “...somehow it always works out for you, when logically it really shouldn’t.”
The others exchanged glances, their curiosity piqued. Without needing more prompting, they fell into step behind Arthur and Merlin, filing out of the library and into the corridor.
As they walked, Arthur continued his quiet conversation with Merlin, the rest trailing just far enough behind to miss the details.
“See?” he said, marching confidently. “Like you said—it always works out. So why should this be any different?”
“Arthur…” Merlin warned, casting him a sharp, reproachful look.
His expression softened. Gone was the boyish grin, replaced by something far more solemn, as if he were a different person, more mature. “I know. Trust me, I know. But one of the reasons I have this confidence… is because I have you. If this were truly doomed to fail, you would know. And you would have told me already. So… is it doomed to fail?”
Merlin met his gaze, her expression unreadable. After a pause, she exhaled and muttered, “…No.”
“See?!” Arthur beamed, the light returning to his face as he resumed his fast pace, voice filled once more with boyish enthusiasm.
But his thoughts told another story:
‘I was planning on doing this next year. Maybe by the third. But that Golem… it worries me, especially the magic circle that was controlling it. The year’s barely begun and the path ahead is already shifting—elements I didn’t see in the books are starting to emerge. If something were to happen to one of them it would be because of me… No. I won’t let that happen. I’ll make sure they’re ready. Whatever it takes.’
Back toward the end of the group, Gwyneth leaned toward the others and whispered, “What do you think they’re talking about?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Lance replied with a shrug.
“I’m more curious where we’re going,” Ron muttered. His breath was a little short. “We’ve been climbing stairs forever…”
Eventually, they reached the seventh floor, and by the second lap around the same stretch of corridor, Hermione broke the silence.
“Arthur—where are we going? We’ve passed this hall twice already.”
“Arthur, are you lost?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m not lost,” Arthur replied with huff, his face twitching at their comments. “I know exactly where we’re going.”
Gwyneth giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. “If you’re lost just say so. There’s no shame in it.”
By the third time they circled the corridor, something new appeared—something impossible. A door that hadn’t been there before now stood tall along the wall.
Everyone stopped. Confused murmurs rippled through the group as they stared at the door that had somehow manifested out of thin air.
Arthur turned, grinning smugly. He stepped forward, hand on the doorknob, and declared, “See? Like I said—we were never lost.”
As they stepped through the doorway, they were greeted by the sight of an unexpectedly cozy lounge room. Beanbag chairs were scattered across one side of the room, accompanied by low tables, a portable chalkboard, and walls lined with shelves brimming with books. It felt almost like a cross between a study den and a casual club room.
But that was only half of it.
The other half of the room was much more sparse—clearly meant for training. Straw dummies stood upright like target dummies in a neat row, and several barrels overflowing with wooden practice weapons lined the wall.
“Welcome, boys and girls, to the place where I shall make you all great Wizards and Witches!” Arthur declared dramatically, throwing his arms out with flair.
Everyone stared at him.
Blankly.
A collective silence followed as they blinked at Arthur, half-confused and half-impressed by the room more than anything.
Arthur leaned toward Merlin and whispered something. She sighed, rolled her eyes, and handed him an item. He dashed over to the chalkboard and spun around, now wearing a pair of oversized, round-rimmed glasses perched on his nose.
He pushed them up with one finger, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
The chalk floated from the tray and began scribbling rapidly on the board under his control: Magic Circle Lessons 101
“I’d like to officially welcome you all to Magic Circle Lessons 101!” Arthur announced with a theatrical bow. “Where you shall learn everything you need to know about magic circles from yours truly! You may all refer to me as Professor King!”
With a flourish, he pulled Merlin toward him, placing a hand on her shoulder. “And accompanying me in these lessons is my brilliant and invaluable assistant—Mer-lynn!”
A pause.
Nothing.
Absolute silence.
The only sound was the distant chirping of crickets—or maybe that was just the uncomfortable stillness echoing through the room.
The only one clapping was Gwyneth. Her single clap echoed enthusiastically with a wide smile on her face.
“Thank you, thank you,” Arthur said, placing one hand on his chest and the other behind his back as he bowed like a nobleman at court. “You're a wonderful audience.”
Everyone else turned to look at Gwyneth with a mix of confusion and amusement.
“What?” she said with a shrug. “I'm just being supportive.”
Hermione stepped forward, curiosity overtaking her skepticism. “I'm just wondering… how exactly did you find this place?”
As Ron and Harry flopped onto the beanbag chairs behind her—making satisfied oofs at the unexpected comfort—Arthur placed a finger over his lips.
“A wizard never reveals his secrets,” he said with mock seriousness.
As everyone began settling down onto their own beanbags, Arthur cleared his throat and stepped in front of the chalkboard.
“Now then,” he began, dropping into a slightly more serious tone, “since this is our first lesson, I’ll be going over what exactly we’ll be covering. Magic circles aren’t just fancy lights in the air—they’re the foundation of structured spellcasting.”
He held out his hand, fingers spread. “We’ll be exploring the dangers and possibilities of this power… the components of a proper magic circle… and how each symbol and line contributes to the final effect.”
A shimmer of energy began to form above his hand, threads of glowing light tracing themselves into complex, elegant patterns. The air pulsed softly with power as the design finished—a completed magic circle, its symbols glowing, the energy beginning to concentrate in the center.
The room went still as they stared, transfixed.
Sparks of energy discharge surged around the magic circle as Arthur aimed his hand to the side. Then—
CRACK!
A sound like a gunshot rang out as a blast of energy shot from the circle—an orb of condensed magic streaking like a bullet through the air. It struck one of the straw dummies dead center, piercing it cleanly.
[2nd Tier Magic: Magic Bullet]
The orb detonated with a concussive boom, sending the strawman flying back. It landed at their feet in a smoking heap, a gaping hole blown clean through its chest. Embers still clung to the edges of the blast mark, the outer ring glowing faintly with burning cinders.
Even though they had all witnessed Arthur in combat with the Golem Knight, there was something about seeing him casually unleash that much power in a teaching setting that struck them differently.
Arthur adjusted his gloves, wiggling his fingers playfully as he turned back to the group.
“So…” he asked with a grin, “are you all ready to learn how to do something like that?”
Their response was delayed—not from doubt, but from stunned silence.
Then, slowly, they all nodded, their eyes wide.
Still dumbfounded.
