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Heavy is the Crown (Harry Potter) Chapter 61: Coolest Loser
🕑 Added 2025-06-22 15:35:31 +0000 UTC[Third Person's PoV]
Lance was slowly walking towards his dorm room, also having been given Permission to change out of his dirty clothes that were stained from having rolled around in the ground during his duel with Arthur.
Lance was looking down at the ground, his eyes out of focus as he was deep in thought, mainly about the events that transpired a few moments ago.
‘Why did I bow?’ Lance thought, mostly in confusion ‘What the heck came over me for my body to react like that? It wasn’t voluntary. It was like something deep inside me just… responded to him. Automatically. Without question.’
His fists clenched slightly at his sides.
‘A better question might be: who—no, what—is Arthur, really?’ He pondered to himself ‘That pressure he unleashed early on... I barely noticed it at first, but when I did—’ Lance shivered at the memory. ‘It was honestly terrifying.’
The more he learned about Arthur, the less he felt he truly knew. Lance was so deep in contemplation, so completely absorbed by the mystery that was Arthur, that he nearly failed to notice someone waiting for him just ahead—standing at the corner where the corridor descended into the lower levels, leading toward the dungeon and his dorm.
Looking up, he blinked in surprise. There, leaning casually against the stone wall, was Gwyneth. In her arms was a folded robe bearing the distinctive green and silver of Slytherin.
“Lance!” she called out with a bright smile, waving at him.
“Gwyneth?” he said, eyebrows raised in genuine surprise. “What a surprise. What are you doing all the way down here?”
“I came to return your robe,” she replied cheerfully. “I forgot to hand it back after the professors escorted you off the field.” She stepped forward and extended it toward him, the fabric neatly folded. “You left it behind.”
“Ah, right,” Lance murmured, accepting the robe with a slight bow. “Thanks. I almost forgot about it myself.”
He tucked it under his arm, but his curiosity lingered. “Was that all, or… was there something else you wanted to talk about?”
Gwyneth hesitated for a moment, then smiled again—this time with a hint of nervousness. “Actually, yeah. I just wanted to say—I thought you looked really cool during your battle with Arthur.”
She suddenly threw her hands up and began mimicking the motions of their duel, making exaggerated sound effects. “Your sword went like—swoosh! Clink! Bang! Swoosh swoosh!” she exclaimed, twirling her arms like she was wielding a blade.
Lance blinked, and then let out a short, genuine laugh. There was something charming—adorable, even—about the way she acted it out so animatedly. But as his laughter died down, a shadow passed over his face and his eyes dimmed.
“I’m not sure someone who lost would be considered very cool,” he said quietly, his voice heavy with doubt.
“Well, I think you were,” Gwyneth said brightly, placing her hands on her hips. “You were the coolest loser I know!”
Lance stared at her.
“….”
He didn’t say anything right away. He just looked at her, letting her words settle and echo awkwardly in the silence.
Gwyneth's expression suddenly twisted in horror as she processed what she’d just said. “Wait! That didn’t come out right!” she exclaimed, her face rapidly flushing red. “What I meant was—even though you lost, you were still really cool! Like—you lost in a cool way! You fought with style and grace and—oh, you know what I’m trying to say!”
Lance snorted with laughter, covering his mouth with one hand. “Hehe… Thanks, I suppose. I think I get what you’re trying to say.” He looked at her with a small smirk. “You’re trying to comfort me, right? Well… I appreciate it.”
He stepped forward, gently patting her shoulder in passing.
“It’s nice to know I’m the coolest loser you know,” he teased as he began to walk past her.
Gwyneth let out a mortified groan, throwing both hands over her face. “I so didn’t mean it like that!” she called out after him as he descended down the hallway.
Lance laughed, slipping the robe over his shoulder and waving without looking back. “Talk to you later, Gwyneth. And thanks again—for the robe and the cheer-up.”
Gwyneth was left standing at the top of the corridor, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She let out a long sigh, dragging her hands down her face.
“That’s what I get for opening my big mouth…” she muttered, shaking her head as she turned and started walking away.
…
Arthur was making his way back to the Gryffindor dorms, his hair rustling with each step as the events of the day weighed heavily on his mind. Much like Lance, his path was not without interruption—though in Arthur’s case, it was a familiar and rather comforting one. A certain someone was waiting just around the bend with a knowing smirk and a mischievous glint in her eyes. That someone, of course, was Merlin.
As soon as she saw him, Merlin closed the distance between them with graceful steps and, without a word, slipped her arm around his. “Someone’s letting a certain someone live rent-free in their head,” she said teasingly, looking up at him with a smirk.
Arthur sighed, visibly deflating. “Ugh… Don’t even bring it up. I swear, if I keep thinking about it, I’ll lose what’s left of my sanity.”
Merlin giggled, absolutely delighted by his misery. “And to think, you were actually looking forward to spending seven whole years in this place.”
Arthur groaned and rubbed his temple. “If this is what the first week feels like, I don’t even want to imagine the rest. If I have to deal with this nonsense every year, I’ll lose my mind by year two—three if I’m lucky.”
Still giggling softly, Merlin leaned her head slightly against his arm as they walked. “Well, at least you’re not alone. I’m sure I’ll be forced to put up with some of your dramatics for the foreseeable future.”
Arthur glanced at her with a tired smile, a touch of playfulness returning to his expression. “What’s worse is we hardly have any classes together. If you were at least there to suffer with me, I might’ve had a chance at enduring it.”
“Aww, that’s sweet,” she said, patting his arm affectionately. “But maybe it's for the best. I wouldn’t want you becoming emotionally dependent on me, now would I?”
Arthur gave her an exaggerated eye-roll as they reached the portrait entrance to the Gryffindor common room. “Yeah, yeah, I get it.”
She laughed softly as he entered to quickly change. Merlin waited just outside the entrance, idly glancing at the passing students. Inside, Arthur paused by the announcement board and noticed a new posting:
Flying lessons begin Thursday — Gryffindor and Slytherin will train together.
He shook his head and changed out of his uniform, emerging a few minutes later now carrying Cosmo—the lazy feline sprawled across his shoulders, tail flicking slightly as he yawned.
Reunited, Merlin fell in step beside him again as they resumed walking, this time toward the classroom where Arthur would serve his detention.
“You know,” she said with a sly nudge, “we could’ve spent the weekend doing something relaxing. But nooo, you just had to go and duel someone and get yourself into trouble.”
Arthur groaned dramatically and buried his face in his hands. “Don’t remind me,” he moaned. “What have I done…”
His pitiful act made Merlin burst out laughing, her amusement echoing in the stone halls.
Lowering his hands, Arthur glanced at her with a smirk that belied his fake despair. “So what are you going to do while I’m suffering through punishment?”
Merlin tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Hmm… I think I’ll head to the library. Gwyneth wanted to meet up—she was really curious about the magic you used earlier during the duel. After that, I’ll probably keep working on my custom magic circles. I’ve barely had any time since classes started, and I have a few designs I’ve been dying to refine.”
Arthur smiled warmly at her enthusiasm. “There’s never a moment when you’re not teaching or experimenting with magic, is there?”
“What can I say? I just love what I do,” she said with a proud little shrug. Then she patted his arm. “Anyway, this is your stop. Good luck, Art.”
“You too, Mel,” Arthur said with a sigh. He gave Cosmo a gentle pat on the head and walked up to the door of the Transfiguration classroom.
He raised his hand and knocked firmly.
“Enter,” came Professor McGonagall’s crisp voice from within.
Arthur pushed open the door and stepped inside. McGonagall was seated behind her desk, spectacles perched low on her nose as she reviewed a stack of papers.
“Good afternoon, Professor,” Arthur greeted politely as he walked up and took a seat across from her.
“Good afternoon, Mr. King,” she replied, her tone formal but not unkind. Without another word, she slid a small stack of unsorted papers across the desk toward him.
“Sort these into whatever order you deem appropriate,” she instructed.
“Of course,” Arthur said without hesitation. He pulled the stack closer and began scanning each page, noting their categories and contents. With practiced efficiency, he began organizing them.
A few minutes of silence passed, the only sound in the room being the soft shuffle of papers. Then, unexpectedly, McGonagall spoke again.
“You know, Mr. King… I’ve read your books.”
Arthur looked up, momentarily stunned. “You have?” he said, breaking into a wide, surprised smile.
“I have,” she confirmed, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “It’s certainly… an interesting piece of work. I hope you won’t mind if I ask a few questions about it.”
Arthur straightened in his seat, clearly eager now. “Not at all, Professor! I’d be more than happy to answer any questions you have.”
Comments
ItsDragonking
yeah this is why school sucks go have fun not stuck in one place
Bryan Vargas
Since its still within the first week of school she's getting used to everything, basically she's using that time to become acquainted with the flow of things before anything else
Green223
Can't Merlin sleep through all her classes and still have the highest marks in everything. What do you mean she doesn't have time because of school work?
