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Heavy is the Crown (Harry Potter) chapter 114: Back to Hogwarts
🕑 Added 2025-10-27 23:10:29 +0000 UTC[Third Person POV]
It was soon January 2nd, and the chill of winter hung thick in the air. Arthur and Merlin stood inside King’s Cross Station, surrounded by the echoing hum of travelers and the faint hiss of steam from the trains. Their holiday break had come to an end, and the two were moments away from boarding the train that would take them back to Hogwarts.
Before them stood Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel, the elderly couple who had treated them with such warmth during their stay. Perenelle, in particular, seemed unwilling to let them go. Her arms were wrapped tightly around both of them as tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Please don’t forget to write,” she said between sniffles, clutching them closer as though she could keep them there a little longer. “Promise me you’ll let me know when you arrive safely.”
Arthur and Merlin exchanged a glance, both wearing the same awkward but affectionate grin as they tried to comfort her—while simultaneously attempting to breathe through the crushing hug.
“We’ll be sure to write” Merlin said gently, patting her on the back with a small laugh.
Arthur nodded, his voice warm. “Yeah—and thank you for everything you did for us these past few days. Really. It meant a lot.”
His stomach gave a faint protest at the memory of yesterday’s birthday feast, which had been nothing short of legendary. He was still certain he had gained a few pounds from the endless spread of cakes, roasts, and magically refilling pies.
“Come now, Penny,” Nicholas chuckled, stepping forward and gently prying her arms away. “If you keep clinging to them like that, they’ll miss their train entirely.”
Perenelle sniffed and reluctantly let go, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. “Fine, fine—but you two behave yourselves!”
“We will!” Arthur assured her, waving as they picked up their luggage.
With one last wave, the two of them made their way toward the train platform, their trunks rolling behind them. The whistle of the Hogwarts Express rang through the air like a call to adventure. They climbed aboard and began searching the compartments for an empty space.
Instead, they found Lance sitting alone by a window. His posture was straight, his gaze fixed outside as the morning light caught his calm, stoic expression.
“Hello!” Arthur grinned, stepping in first. “Did you miss us? Hope we didn’t keep you waiting too long!”
Lance turned, his expression softening into a small, genuine smile—far warmer than the distant one he’d worn moments before. “Arthur, Mer-Lynn—it’s good to see the two of you again. I trust your winter break was enjoyable?”
“Likewise,” they both replied in perfect unison, which earned a quiet chuckle from Lance.
They set their luggage in the racks above before Arthur opened the small cages that held Sylvia and Cosmo, who immediately jumped out and sat comfortably near the window.
Arthur plopped down beside Lance, eyeing the sword-shaped charm hanging from his friend’s neck. “Nice,” he said, motioning toward it as he pulled out his own identical charm.
Lance looked down and smirked, holding his up for a better look. “I’m only wearing it as you intended,” he said with a light chuckle.
The two shared a fist bump, their camaraderie as effortless as ever. Merlin, sitting across from them, rolled her eyes fondly. ‘Boys,’ she thought with a small shake of her head.
A minute later, a soft knock came from the lower part of the compartment door. Merlin leaned forward and slid it open—only to find Gwenyth balancing several bags in her arms and even one clutched between her teeth.
“Morning!” she mumbled through the handle.
The group broke into quiet laughs as they hurried to help her inside, taking some of the bags off her hands.
“I’ve come bearing gifts!” Gwenyth declared dramatically, dropping into her seat with an exhausted sigh. “I felt awful that you all went out of your way to get me something for Christmas and I didn’t get you anything. So—I’m here to fix that!”
She began sorting through the pile before her, handing out gift bags one by one. “Here, Arthur—this one’s for you,” she said, passing him the one she’d carried in her mouth.
“Thank you,” Arthur said, taking it by the side and setting it on his lap. He opened it to reveal a sleek pair of black leather gloves, soft and well-crafted. He let out a low whistle. “Fancy~”
Gwenyth smiled sheepishly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Yeah, well, I’ve never seen you without gloves. So I figured, if you’re always wearing them, you must really like them, so I got you a pair”
Lance chuckled from across the seat. “That’s funny—I sent him a pair of gloves too. Same exact reasoning.”
“You did?!” Gwenth exclaimed, her expression twisting with mild frustration as she looked from Arthur to Lance. “Ugh, now I feel like I should’ve gotten you something else!”
Arthur laughed softly, lifting his gloved hands in surrender. “Don’t worry, Gwenth. I love your gift—really, I do. Thank you.” He chuckled again when she still looked unsure. “Besides, the gloves Lance got me are fingerless and mostly for training. Yours are proper winter ones, so it’s not like they’re exactly the same.”
Gwenth leaned back in her seat, narrowing her eyes suspiciously before relenting. “If you say so… Actually,” she said after a brief pause, curiosity flickering in her eyes, “can I ask something? Why is it that you’re always wearing gloves? I’ve noticed it since the day we met, but I keep forgetting to ask.”
Lance looked up from his own half-opened gift, interest piqued. “I was wondering that as well. Does it have to do with the magic symbol embedded on them?”
Arthur visibly stiffened, not knowing how to answer.
Before Arthur could answer, Merlin spoke up, her tone playfully dry. “Arthur just has a weird complex about his hands.” She smiled slyly, unbothered. “He’s self-conscious about them.”
“Seriously?” Lance said, glancing down at Arthur’s gloved fingers.
Arthur sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s… actually more to it than that,” he said quietly. “But I’ll explain another time.”
The others exchanged glances, sensing the shift in tone. Out of respect, they didn’t press further and instead returned to unwrapping their gifts. Soon, the atmosphere lightened again with laughter and thanks as Gwenth’s thoughtful presents made their way around the compartment.
“So,” Merlin said suddenly, her voice carrying a teasing lilt, “where’s Arthur’s second present, Gwenth?”
Gwenth blinked in confusion. “His second present?”
“Merlin, don’t,” Arthur groaned, dragging a hand down his face.
Merlin ignored him entirely. “Well, his birthday was yesterday, after all.”
Both Lance and Gwenth turned their heads toward Arthur at once. His cheeks reddened instantly under their combined stares.
“Yup,” Merlin said, smirking. “Our Gryffindor Golden Boy is officially twelve years old.”
Gwenth threw her head back with a dramatic groan. “You’re kidding! Why didn’t you tell us, Arthur? I would’ve gotten you something completely different!”
Arthur laughed sheepishly, waving his hands. “It’s fine, really! I honestly appreciate a single gift for both occasions. Look at it this way—” he held up the gloves he got, grinning “—one glove for Christmas, the other for my birthday. Perfect balance.”
The others chuckled at his logic, shaking their heads.
“Well, that just means we’re celebrating again,” Gwenth said suddenly, her energy returning in full force. “When the trolley comes around, we’ll buy you a pumpkin pie and use it as a birthday cake!”
Lance nodded approvingly. “That’s actually a good idea.”
Arthur blinked at them both in disbelief. “You’re serious?”
“Completely,” Gwenth said, grinning.
Arthur leaned back with a sigh but smiled all the same. “Fine, fine. If you insist. But now I’m curious—since you’re all apparently planning my next birthday already, when are yours?”
Gwenth raised her hand like she was answering a classroom question. “Mine’s the 27th of March!”
“14th of August,” Lance said calmly, as if reciting a fact he barely needed to think about.
They both turned to Merlin expectantly.
“I don’t have one,” she said simply, shrugging.
There was a pause.
“…What?” Gwenth asked, eyes wide.
Arthur sighed, answering for her. “She doesn’t remember when her birthday actually is. Or so she says.” He glanced at Merlin, his tone softening. “I even tried sharing mine with her once, but she politely declined.”
Merlin chuckled at the memory. “It was really sweet of him, though. He was six years old and told me I could borrow his birthday if I didn’t have one of my own.”
Arthur turned an even deeper shade of red, which only made the others laugh harder. The teasing continued back and forth until the familiar sound of the trolley’s arrival interrupted them.
Gwenth and Lance quickly teamed up, pooling their coins to buy Arthur the promised pumpkin pie. Meanwhile, Merlin waved her wand subtly and conjured a charming illusion of flickering birthday candles hovering above it.
When they set the pie in front of Arthur, his entire face turned crimson.
“Come on!” Gwenth cheered. “Make a wish, birthday boy!”
“Yeah, go on,” Lance added, a grin tugging at his lips.
Arthur hesitated, groaned under his breath, and finally leaned forward to blow out the illusionary candles.
As the soft light vanished, Gwenth’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “So?” she asked eagerly. “What did you wish for?”
Arthur slumped back in his seat, his voice dry and muffled. “To be put out of my misery…”
For a split second, there was silence—then the entire compartment erupted with laughter. The train rumbled steadily along the tracks, carrying their cheerful voices into the winter morning.
Comments
Rogue_Eagle99
Especially when Ron will start asking why they didn’t say anything in the beginning and save him from so much reading
Rogue_Eagle99
Is it bad that I’m already thinking about when other professors and students find out that his “ grandfather” is the creator of the philosopher Stone. How hilarious the reactions are gonna be especially hairy, Ron and Hermione, considering their trip for the first year for the stone.
Rogue_Eagle99
But little did he know that wish would fuck up the rest of his school year
