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Heavy Is the Crown (Harry Potter) Chapter 68: Halloween Special (1)
🕑 Added 2025-07-06 14:11:46 +0000 UTC[Third person POV]
Arthur sat cross-legged on a polished wooden floor, surrounded by four quiet walls that enclosed a modest but peaceful space. Resting gently between his legs was a smooth, white, oval-shaped object—an egg unlike any ordinary one, gleaming faintly under the ambient light.
His eyes were closed, his breathing calm and steady, as he cradled the egg with both hands. Faint blue circuitry-like lines pulsed across his skin, spreading outwards from his core as he channeled his magic into the shell. A soft hum echoed faintly in the room as energy flowed from his body, bathing the egg in a glow that shimmered with arcane intent.
This was no ordinary egg—it was the same mysterious artifact Seraphinix had gifted him long ago, during a time that now felt like a distant memory. Arthur had nurtured it ever since, forming a deep bond with the silent life inside. Even now, as he poured the last reserves of his magic into it, he could feel a growing connection between their energies.
Eventually, the flow of magic ceased. The glowing circuitry faded and retreated beneath his skin, leaving no trace of its prior brilliance. Arthur let out a long, tired sigh as he slumped slightly forward, the egg still secure in his grasp.
“Hungry little bugger, aren’t you?” he murmured with a tired smile, gently caressing the smooth surface. “You sure do eat a lot, don’t you… But that’s alright. Eat as much as you need. I’ll keep feeding you.”
He raised the egg toward the light streaming from above, tilting it slightly to get a better look. Inside, barely visible through the cloudy shell, was the faint silhouette of a curled-up creature—a tiny lizard-like form with four delicate legs and a pair of tucked wings resting along its back.
The sight warmed his heart.
A tender smile crossed Arthur’s face as he brought the egg close and hugged it against his chest. “There’s no need to rush. Take your time, little one. Grow up strong and powerful. I’ll be here every step of the way.”
Rising from the floor with gentle care, Arthur walked over to a small shrine nestled in the corner of the room. Although it appeared like a holy altar, adorned with candles, runes, and protective wards, it was actually a carefully prepared nest designed for the egg. He placed it inside with reverence, giving the shell a soft kiss before sealing it in the center with wards to keep it safe and warm.
With his task complete, Arthur crossed the room to a modest study tucked against the far wall. There, books and scrolls were stacked in careful order, and his personal grimoire lay open on the desk. Flipping through the pages, he examined several intricate magic circles and theories. Instead of developing entirely new spells lately, Arthur had focused on refining and upgrading the ones he had already mastered, enhancing their power and efficiency.
It was a secret habit of his—something he did during slow classes when the subject matter bored him, or when he already knew the lessons being taught. While others wasted time, Arthur pushed forward, growing stronger in his own quiet way.
He glanced down at his current project—his Tier 1 Haste Magic circle. With careful adjustments, refined runes, and precise changes to the flow of mana, he had finally succeeded in evolving it into a Tier 2 spell. What once granted a 20% increase in speed now amplified it by a full 50%, a significant boost that could turn the tide of any battle.
As he finished, the markings in his grimoire shimmered and shifted. The old words and diagrams burned away like embers in the wind, replaced by new symbols and glowing lines. The transformation was subtle, but unmistakable.
Satisfied, Arthur tidied up his study, returning books to their places and closing his grimoire. He stepped over to a narrow staircase tucked at the side of the room and ascended slowly. The steps didn’t lead to another floor, but rather out of the magical space concealed within a small, enchanted briefcase lying beside his dormitory bed.
Emerging from the enchanted pocket dimension, Arthur closed the briefcase and set it aside before changing into his pajamas. The dorm room around him was quiet, the moonlight casting a calm silver glow across the walls. Climbing into bed, he nestled beneath the covers and closed his eyes.
‘Tomorrow is Halloween... should be an exciting day,’ he thought, smiling faintly as sleep overtook him.
---
As Arthur’s breathing deepened and his consciousness drifted into sleep, his mind crossed into the dream realm—and he found himself standing once again before a towering figure clad in black armor. The Shadow Knight.
Without hesitation, Arthur summoned his sword, the blade forming with a flicker of light in his hand. His stance shifted into a dueling formation, his gaze locked on the figure before him.
“Ready to see how much I’ve improved?” he challenged, voice firm and confident.
The knight gave a slow nod, saying nothing. Then, without warning, it charged forward—blade raised, movements sharp and merciless.
Arthur didn’t flinch. Without hesitation he lunged in response, meeting the knight head-on, sword clashing against sword in a burst of sparks and power.
…
“You’re saying it wrong, Ron! It’s Levi–O–sa! Not Levios–SA!” Hermione snapped, clearly exasperated as she watched Ron nearly bludgeon his feather with his wand.
“Pfft!!” Arthur burst into laughter, slapping the table as he tried—and failed—to suppress it. “Hehehe!”
Ron turned red, assuming Arthur was laughing at him. In truth, Arthur’s thoughts were entirely elsewhere.
‘She said it! She actually said the thing! Oh my daze, this is the best day ever!’ Arthur screamed internally, practically vibrating with secondhand joy. ‘I’ve waited my whole life to hear that line in person.’
Ron, however, was in no mood for theatrics. “You do it, then, if you’re so clever,” he snapped at Hermione.
With a huff, Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her robes, gave a graceful flick of her wand, and declared, “Wingardium Leviosa!”
Their feather rose instantly, hovering effortlessly about four feet above their heads.
“Oh, well done!” Professor Flitwick cried, clapping his tiny hands in excitement. “Everyone, take note! Miss Granger’s got it perfectly!”
The praise didn’t sit well with Ron—it only seemed to fuel the storm brewing in his chest.
Arthur leaned back in his chair, the smile on his face fading slightly. ‘Ah… this is probably still connected to when Hermione tried to stop Harry and Ron from sneaking out to duel Malfoy. I had wanted to tag along to meet Fluffy. Too bad I was in a sword duel with Lance at the time…’ He sighed internally, feeling a flicker of regret at missing the chance to meet the three-headed dog. ‘I’ll need to make time to visit it myself. It’s not every day you get to see a Cerberus in real life.’
As charms class ended, the mood soured. Ron was still in a peculiar funk, grumbling as he and Harry exited the room.
“It’s no wonder no one can stand her,” Ron muttered to Harry as they squeezed through the crowded corridor.
Harry opened his mouth, likely about to say something in Hermione’s defense—but Ron cut in before he could.
“Arthur doesn’t count,” he said bitterly. “He’s friendly with bloody everyone. Probably just pities her or something. She’s a nightmare, honestly.”
At that moment, they were both shoved aside by a bushy-haired girl running past them. Her face was hidden, but her shoulders were trembling.
“I think she heard you,” Harry said with a deep frown.
“Ouch!” Ron yelped as a heavy book struck the top of his head. He turned sharply to see Arthur glaring at him with clear disappointment.
“I thought you were better than that, Weasley. I actually believed you’d matured,” Arthur said coldly.
He shook his head and walked past Ron, his tone flat and heavy. “I’m disappointed in you, Ronald.”
Ron winced, rubbing the sore spot on his head. “What’s his deal…” he muttered under his breath.
“Seriously?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.
Ron didn’t answer. His eyes dropped to the floor, shame settling in. The two boys continued walking through the corridor in heavy silence. The usually loud and chaotic energy between them was muted.
“I took it too far, didn’t I?” Ron finally muttered.
Harry let out a long sigh and nodded. “Yeah… I know you were upset, but that was crossing a line.”
Ron exhaled slowly. “I’ve gotta apologize to her…”
If Arthur had lingered just a moment longer, he would’ve been surprised to hear Ron say that.
But he never got the chance.
Hermione didn’t turn up for their next class, and she wasn’t seen for the rest of the afternoon. The hours dragged on, heavy with worry, until it was time for the Halloween feast.
As Harry and Ron headed down to the Great Hall, they overheard Parvati Patil telling her friend Lavender that Hermione was crying in the girls’ bathroom and wanted to be left alone.
Harry turned to Ron, who was already blushing with shame. The guilt was written all over his face. He didn’t say anything—didn’t need to. His head stayed low, eyes avoiding Harry’s altogether.
Meanwhile, Arthur had already arrived at the Great Hall and was scanning the crowd. The ceiling had been enchanted to reflect a night sky filled with stars and clouds, and a thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and high archways. More swooped low over the tables in swirling black clouds, making the candle flames inside the carved pumpkins flicker and dance ominously.
The golden plates, now laden with food, had appeared as suddenly as they had during the start-of-term feast. Roasted meats, golden potatoes, buttered corn, and thick pumpkin pies filled the tables—but Arthur barely noticed. His gaze moved over the students with growing unease.
‘She’s not here…’ he thought, frowning. ‘If she’s still in the bathroom… the troll—wait. No. The troll hasn't been announced yet. There's still time.’
He stood up, preparing to slip away quietly and find Hermione before something terrible could happen.
But he never got the chance.
Suddenly, the doors to the Great Hall slammed open. Professor Quirrell came sprinting in, his turban askew and terror etched across his face. Gasps filled the hall as he stumbled to the front, clutching the edge of the high table.
“G-Golem! Golem—in the dungeons!” he gasped hoarsely. “Thought you ought to know…”
With that, he collapsed to the ground in a faint.
The hall descended into stunned silence.
But none were more shocked than Arthur.
‘A Golem?!’ he thought, his eyes wide. ‘What?! What happened to the troll?!’
Comments
DJOK DJOK
Yeah this should be his wake up call
Green223
I love that Artur still assumes canon is happening when him being alive means all his meta-knowledge is practically useless and canon is dying.
Bryan Vargas
You're seeing things, I don't know what you talking about 👀
Vrati
You put this chapter into a wrong collection. It is in Going Ghost, not Harry Potter.
