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Heavy is the Crown (Harry Potter) Chapter 39: Hogwarts Express [Start of Volume 2]
🕑 Added 2025-05-07 15:35:00 +0000 UTC[Third Person's PoV]
It was the morning of September 1st, and Arthur was brimming with anticipation. Excitement radiated from him like sunlight as he darted around his bedroom, carefully packing nearly all of his belongings into his enchanted luggage. His every movement was practiced, yet slightly frantic—evidence of just how much this day meant to him.
After triple-checking that his books, potions supplies, robes, and other essentials were securely packed, Arthur paused and turned to the bed where a soft, velvet pillow cradled a pristine white and gold egg. Its surface shimmered faintly in the morning light that streamed through the window.
He picked it up gently, holding it with both gloved hands as though it were the most fragile thing in the world. “I was hoping you’d hatch before term started,” he murmured wistfully, brushing his thumb across the shell. “But I suppose you're waiting for something more... magical. Well then, what better place to hatch than the most magical school in the world?”
With great care, Arthur nestled the egg within the specially-padded compartment of his magically expanded suitcase, layering it with protective charms just in case. Once he was satisfied that the egg was secure, he snapped the case shut and stood tall.
He gave himself one last glance in the full-length mirror. His bright-gold hair was slicked back neatly, his face smooth and composed, his posture regal. Although he couldn’t wear a formal suit, his black wizarding robes were just as refined, tailored perfectly to his figure. On his hands, a pair of sleek black gloves added a final touch of elegance. A satisfied smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. With his wand tucked safely inside his robe and every item accounted for, Arthur hoisted his suitcase and made his way downstairs.
Merlin was already waiting in the front hall, dressed and prepared, her own bags neatly stacked beside her. A large owl cage sat on the floor, the owl inside preening its feathers. But what caught Arthur’s attention most was the smaller cage next to it, where Cosmo—his beloved son, or so he referred to the tiny creature—was crying dramatically, clinging to the bars with exaggerated wails of sorrow.
Arthur clutched his heart and leaned down toward the cage. “I’m so sorry, Cosmo, truly. But it has to be done. Just until we arrive, alright? Be brave for me.”
Cosmo responded with another pitiful sob and flopped dramatically onto his back. Merlin rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed. “Are you done with the theatrics? We need to go. The Flamels are waiting—they’re taking us to King’s Cross.”
Arthur straightened, composing himself. “Yes, I’ve packed everything. Ready when you are.” With a flick of his wand, his luggage lifted into the air and hovered behind him obediently.
“Good. Follow me,” Merlin instructed, striding toward the door. Arthur raised a brow in confusion—he had assumed they would use the usual means of travel—but followed her without question.
They walked across the sprawling front yard and ventured into the nearby forest, moving between trees whose leaves had just started to shift into the hues of early autumn. Their bags floated silently alongside them, bobbing gently with each step.
Once they reached a safe distance, Merlin stopped. She pulled out her wand, which immediately extended and transformed back into its full staff form. Arthur watched in growing curiosity as she spun it in the air and then brought it down with force, striking the ground.
Suddenly, the area before them began to distort. Arthur’s eyes widened in disbelief as the forest around them shrank and twisted, folding inward until what remained in the field was a small glass dome—like a snow globe, only without snow. Their house, the forest, everything they had called home was now encapsulated within it.
He turned slowly toward Merlin, his mouth hanging open. “WHAT—when were you going to tell me we’ve been living in a snow globe?!”
Merlin arched a brow at him, clearly unfazed. “You seriously didn’t know? You really should be more observant. That’s your wake-up call.”
“Don’t you dare turn this around on me!” Arthur snapped, still pointing accusingly at the magical orb that held their home. They continued their bickering even as Merlin summoned the globe and they departed toward their rendezvous with the Flamels.
…
Later that morning, Arthur and Merlin walked briskly through King’s Cross Station, accompanied by Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel. Behind them trailed two elegant luggage carts, the kind seen in the fanciest hotels, piled high with their belongings. It was a rather impressive sight—one that drew more than a few glances.
Arthur, despite the composure in his posture, was practically vibrating with excitement. He moved with grace, each step deliberate and noble, but there was a radiant glow to him, a twinkle in his diamond blue eyes that betrayed the anticipation bubbling just beneath the surface. A serene smile played on his lips, one that hinted at joy and nervous wonder all at once.
He scanned the crowds, his gaze dancing over the bustling station in hopes of spotting a familiar face. He was particularly eager to glimpse a certain someone—the Boy Who Lived. Unfortunately, based on his readings and near-perfect memory—sharpened by his daily Occlumency exercises—Arthur knew that Harry Potter typically arrived later in the morning. That meant he’d likely miss him. A shame, really. He had hoped to make a memorable first impression.
“You remember what you’re supposed to do at the platform, right?” Perenelle asked gently, her tone that of a doting grandmother.
Both Arthur and Merlin nodded in unison, their expressions serious. They had gone over the plan several times already, and both were confident in their approach.
They didn’t take long to find it—Platform 9 ¾. The hustle and bustle of King's Cross Station continued around them, muggles none the wiser as the two young wizards stood before the barrier separating the magical world from the mundane.
“Ladies first,” Arthur said with a mock bow and a mischievous glint in his eye, his lips curled into a playful smirk.
Merlin raised an eyebrow. “Then why don’t you go first?”
Arthur feigned innocence, placing a hand to his chest. “You're right, since there doesn’t seem to be one with us at the moment.”
She clicked her tongue in annoyance, but Nicholas couldn’t help letting out a hearty laugh at their antics. Perenelle rolled her eyes, the corners of her mouth twitching with restrained amusement.
With a final huff, Merlin pushed her trolley forward. She squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and ran straight at the seemingly solid wall between platforms 9 and 10. With a faint pop, she vanished.
“My turn!” Arthur grinned with excitement and sprinted forward. Just as he was about to hit the wall, he instinctively shut his eyes—only to feel no impact at all. Another soft pop echoed, and he disappeared as well.
When Arthur opened his eyes, the sight before him took his breath away.
The Hogwarts Express stood proudly on the tracks, a majestic steam engine in hues of deep red and glossy black. Students and their families filled the platform, laughter and chatter echoing all around. There was an air of magic and mystery, of new beginnings and age-old tradition.
Moments later, two more pops signaled the arrival of Perenelle and Nicholas behind them.
Nicholas smiled fondly. “Arthur, my boy, it seems this is where we say our goodbyes”
Arthur turned, his eyes glinting warmly. “No, it’s not goodbye. It’s just ‘see you later.’”
Nicholas chuckled. “You’re right, as always.” He reached forward, pulling Arthur and—surprisingly—even Merlin into a heartfelt embrace. Merlin stiffened, clearly not expecting the gesture, but didn’t resist.
“It’s been an honor being your teacher, Arthur. And Mer-lynn, while you refused to study under me, I know you’re a brilliant witch. I have no doubt you’ll both thrive at Hogwarts. So, the only advice I’ll give you now is this—enjoy every moment.”
“Thank you, Grandpa Nick,” Arthur and Merlin said in unison, Merlin’s usual stoicism softening.
Then Perenelle, already teary-eyed, wrapped them in a bear hug that threatened to squeeze the breath out of them.
“I’m going to miss you both so much! The house is going to be so empty without your bickering and Cosmo’s constant meowing!” she wailed, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “Promise you’ll write? Every week, alright, Art? Lynn-lynn?”
Arthur burst out laughing. “Lynn-lynn?! Hahaha!”
Merlin’s face flushed with embarrassment as she shot Arthur a death glare, but the affection in her eyes betrayed her annoyance.
Arthur composed himself, still chuckling, and hugged Perenelle back. “Don’t worry, we’ll write. You two take care of yourselves, okay?”
“I should be the one saying that,” she sniffled.
With final hugs, reassurances, and waves, Arthur and Merlin boarded the train, their luggage in their hands.
Nicholas turned away, muttering under his breath, “Don’t cry, don’t cry, don't cry...”
Perenelle remained by the platform, still waving, her tissue growing damper by the second.
Inside, Arthur and Merlin navigated the crowded aisles, searching for a free compartment amidst the sea of robes and chatter. They eventually found an empty one near the center of the train and quickly began storing their belongings.
Arthur freed Cosmo from his cage and settled the feline on his lap. Cosmo let out a contented purr, clearly relieved to be free from confinement. Arthur took the window seat, gazing out at the magical world outside.
“Lynn-lynn,” Arthur teased without looking at her.
Merlin sat beside him, narrowing her eyes. “Art, how can one person be so adorable and yet so completely stranglable?”
Arthur blinked. “What?”
“You sure you want to find out what?” she asked with a dark sweetness.
Arthur quickly shook his head. “Nope. And have I ever told you how terrifying you can be?”
“I’ve been told,” she said proudly, smoothing out her robe.
Their teasing continued for a while before it was interrupted by the sound of the compartment door sliding open. Both turned to see a boy standing there—about their age, with shoulder-length, sleek chestnut hair, and piercing gray eyes that shimmered like silver. His gaze was calm, unreadable, and distant, as if the world barely registered to him.
“Oh,” the boy said softly. “I didn’t realize this compartment was occupied. My apologies.”
Both Arthur and Merlin blinked in unison, taken aback by his unusually polite tone.
“Not at all,” Arthur said warmly, his gentlemanly charm shining through. “Join us. There’s plenty of room, and we’d enjoy the company.”
The boy stared at Arthur for a moment, clearly weighing his options. After a pause, he gave a small nod, stepped inside, closed the door behind him, and began storing his luggage and the cage of a sleek, black-feathered owl above the seats.
Not a single word passed his lips during the process.
As he sat down, Arthur, ever the charismatic one, extended a gloved hand across the space. “Since we’ll be sharing a journey for the next few hours, introductions are in order. I’m Arthur King. And you are?”
The boy hesitated, then took Arthur’s hand in a firm but cool shake. He met Arthur’s gaze, his voice calm and even.
“My name is Lance… Lance Demere.”
Comments
Green223
If this be a Lancelot descendent Arthur better keep his eye on him because his ancestor was French and an Adulterer with Artur's wife. And if it is Lancelot and Guinevere's descendent well Lancelot wasn't part of the original myth just an addition by the French to add drama, so Lance dying shouldn't be a problem
Bryan Vargas
If I hadn't started this fic I would have said Dumbledore is the descendent of Percival since he has Percival in his long range of names, his name is something Albus Percival Wolfric Dumbledore, there's probably one or two I missed but my point still stands
NaYati
For me, Lance is surely a descendant of Percival because in Arthurian legend, Percival and Arthur are related by blood. And so he could become his best friend (not a traitor like Lancelot) and he could descend from some secondary or tertiary branch of the Pendragon family.😜😂
