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Heavy is the Crown (Harry Potter) Chapter 32: Grimoire
🕑 Added 2025-04-23 15:29:28 +0000 UTC[Third Person's PoV]
It was midway through July, and Arthur sat in his bedroom, surrounded by sheets of paper—pages that filled his incomplete grimoire.
Nestled between his legs sat a golden and white egg. An egg Arthur had been continuously feeding magic into for the past few months.
He stared down at it, thinking,
‘Merlin said that, due to it being in suppressed incubation for so long—made to rest for years—it would need a plethora of magic to restart. I’ve been feeding it for months, and so far, it’s only gotten warmer. I wonder how much longer I’ll have to keep this up.’
“I feel like a mother hen,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head before turning his attention back to the papers spread in front of him.
“First things first: the First Tier Magic Circles I managed to create,” Arthur said, refocusing as he began to study them.
…
Tier 1 Magic Circles:
Clean: A Spell that cleans any clothes, equipment, and potentially rooms.
Camouflage: The spell allows the user to change their skin color to blend in with their environment.
Magic Bullet: A spell that allows the user to shoot out a condense ball made of Magic.
Haste: A spell that could instantly increase an individual's movement speed by about 20%.
Light Orb: Summons a floating ball of light to illuminate dark areas.
Gust: Sends out a small burst of wind strong enough to blow away light debris.
Whisper: Sends a quiet magical message up to 10 meters away.
Minor Heal: Gradually heals small wounds, scrapes, and bruises.
Magic Thread – Produces a magical string that can bind or tie small objects or foes.
Muffle Steps – Silences all movement of the user’s feet.
Float Object – Levitate a small object (under 5 lbs) a few feet off the ground.
---
Tier 2 Magic Circles:
Firebolt – Fires a small but focused flame burst strong enough to pierce through objects and cause explosions.
Wind Slash – Unleashes a cutting gust of wind from the caster’s hand or weapon.
Ice Shard – Launches a sharp fragment of magical ice at a target.
Minor Barrier – Creates a small, semi-transparent shield to block light physical or magical attacks.
Shock Pulse: Sends a burst of static electricity in a short-range area.
Smoke Screen – Releases a puff of smoke to obscure vision.
---
Tier 3 Magic Circles:
Mana Burst: infusing one's weapons and body with Magical Energy and instantly expelling it. Simply put, recreating the effect of a jet burst by expanding large amounts of Magical Energy
Reinforcement: strengthens not only the physical material and body, but also amplifies the core and functionality.
…
Arthur stared intently at the list in front of him, one hand resting over his mouth as his eyes scanned each line with silent concentration. His mind was deep in thought, weighing each spell and concept he had developed up to this point.
‘I shouldn't focus on creating any new spells for the time being,’ he thought to himself, ‘What I need now is to dedicate my time and energy to mastering the ones I've already created—perfecting them, refining their execution, and learning how to effectively incorporate them into my personal combat style.’
With a practiced wave of his hand, the loose sheets of paper responded immediately to his will, flying up into the air before aligning themselves in perfect order. They gently slid back into the pages of his book, each sheet finding its rightful place. Once the last paper was secured, the book shut itself with a quiet thud, revealing a sturdy cover adorned in rich blue and vibrant yellow—two colors that had gradually, almost unconsciously, become symbols of Arthur's evolving identity.
He rose from his seated position, picking up both the thick, spell-laden book and his dragon egg that rested on his lap. Clutching them firmly in his hands, he made his way out of his room, his mind now focused on his next step. He needed towards the one person that would help him achieve this next step: Merlin.
She was in her study, as usual, buried in her own magical research—her door closed but never truly unwelcoming. Arthur knocked gently, his knuckles tapping rhythmically against the wood.
“Mel,” he called out softly.
The sound of footsteps followed by the creaking of the door opening signaled her arrival. She peered out at him with a curious expression.
“What is it? Are you finally ready to get started?” she asked, brushing a few stray strands of hair from her face.
Arthur nodded and held up the book in his hands. “I'm ready to make this official,” he said. “This book holds everything—my understanding of magic, the theories I’ve developed, and the spells I’ve worked so hard to create. I want to bind it. I want it to become my true grimoire.”
Merlin’s gaze shifted from the book to Arthur’s face, and she gave a thoughtful nod. Without another word, she stepped out of the doorway, gesturing for him to follow her toward the living room. As they walked, she began to speak.
“As you’re already aware, the House of LeFay were masters of the Black Arts. They didn’t merely practice magic—they bled for it, suffered for it. Their rituals were intense, often unforgiving. So binding a grimoire, especially one as personally crafted as yours, is far from a simple task.”
Arthur’s brow furrowed. “What exactly do I need to do?” he asked, his curiosity edged with a hint of apprehension.
Merlin sighed, her expression becoming serious. “To forge a true connection with your grimoire, you have to offer it more than just magic. You must link it to your very life. In short… you need to be on the verge of death.”
Arthur froze mid-step, blinking in disbelief. “I’m sorry, the verge of what now?” he asked, his voice sharp with concern as he turned to stare at her.
“You’re creating a bond between your life force and the grimoire,” Merlin explained patiently. “You’re not just imbuing it with power—you’re making it an extension of yourself. And to do that, the ritual requires that you give over more than half of your life energy. It’s dangerous, Arthur. Extremely so. Many members of the LeFay family didn’t survive the process. In fact, it was one of the main reasons their numbers dwindled so rapidly, pushing their house to the brink of extinction.”
Arthur swallowed hard. “I… see,” he replied hesitantly. “So what exactly do I need to do?”
Merlin reached into the folds of her robe and pulled out a small slip of parchment. She read from it slowly, clearly. “You’ll need to pour your blood over the book while chanting the words: Coniungat nos sanguis meus; Sit nobis magicae nos iungat.”
Arthur quietly repeated the phrase to himself, then gave a loose translation aloud, furrowing his brow. “May my blood connect us… May our magic unite us.”
Merlin nodded approvingly. “Correct. Your blood acts as the medium, your magic the binding force. Together, they link your soul to the book. But let me make something very clear: under no circumstance are you allowed to fall unconscious during the ritual. You must not stop chanting. If the incantation is interrupted, the backlash will kill you. Instantly.”
Arthur took a moment to absorb the weight of her words. His expression grew grim, but resolute.
“I’ll give you a few minutes to prepare—” Merlin began, but Arthur cut her off.
“There’s no need,” he said firmly. “Let’s begin now. I’m ready.”
“Are you absolutely certain?” she asked, her voice low and serious.
“There’s no point in waiting. I’ve come this far,” he said. “Let’s just begin.”
Merlin studied him for a long moment before giving a single, solemn nod. She stepped aside, clearing space in the center of the room and silently preparing the area.
Arthur handed her the dragon egg for safekeeping, knowing she would guard it well. Then, with deliberate care, he sat cross-legged on the ground and placed the book before him.
Arthur grasped the necklace at his chest. Caliburn reacted instantly, shifting in a shimmer of light and magic until it took the form of a short, gleaming dagger.
He took one last breath.
And then he cut.
The blade slid across his wrist—clean, deliberate. Pain flared white-hot, but he didn’t flinch. His blood spilled freely, thick and vibrant, pooling in his palm before dripping down onto the grimoire.
It hit the cover with a soft, wet tap. Then another. Then another.
At first, nothing happened.
Arthur began the chant in a low, steady voice.
“Coniungat nos sanguis meus; Sit nobis magicae nos iungat.”
A soft blue shimmer formed around the book.
He repeated the words again.
“Coniungat nos sanguis meus; Sit nobis magicae nos iungat.”
The shimmer deepened into a glowing aura. The blood soaked into the cover as if the book were drinking it — hungry, ancient. The golden trim lit up faintly, tracing Arthur’s name in old LeFay script.
Arthur's vision was sharp, focused.
But with each word, each heartbeat, something inside him was dimming.
The bleeding hadn't slowed. His strength was seeping into the pages, threading itself through the ink, the parchment, the binding. The book was pulling more than blood now — it was pulling life.
Arthur's breath hitched.
His tongue grew heavy.
“Con…iungat nos… sanguis meus…”
His voice faltered. His hands trembled. Sweat beaded across his brow, and the candlelight began to swim in his vision as his blood continued to flow without signs of slowing.
Merlin stepped forward instinctively, but he lifted a shaking hand to stop her.
“Sit… nobis… magicae…”
The grimoire pulsed with radiant light now, glowing brighter with every whispered word. The pages fluttered of their own accord. A vortex of wind circled Arthur, lifting his hair, flaring the edges of his clothes, yet his body was swaying—sluggish.
He could barely keep upright.
His eyes rolled for a second before he forced them open again. The blood loss was catching up fast. His lips were cracked and pale now, voice reduced to a hoarse rasp.
“…nos… iungat…”
The moment the final word left his mouth, the light of the grimoire flared blindingly bright — almost searing — before collapsing inward like a dying star.
The pages snapped shut with a thud.
A shockwave of silent magic surged outward in all directions, and Arthur felt it — the bond. It wasn’t just a book anymore. It was his. It was alive, and it had his blood in its veins.
The connection was complete.
He blinked slowly, vision swaying, the world around him melting at the edges.
A dull, comforting hum echoed from the book. It had accepted him.
Arthur managed a tired smile as he slumped to the side. Just before the darkness overtook him, he whispered:
“…Mel…”
And with that, he collapsed fully, unconscious—bloodied, pale, but alive.
Merlin was at his side before his body even hit the floor, catching him gently, her expression a mix of awe and worry.
“You stubborn, brilliant idiot,” she muttered, already beginning the healing spell.
As Merlin finished the final stroke of healing magic, a soft glow faded from her fingertips. Arthur lay unconscious on the ground, his breathing slow but steady, the strain of the ritual having finally caught up with his body. She sighed quietly, brushing a damp lock of hair from his forehead. Despite everything, he had made it through.
Just as she turned to gather her things, a gentle but persistent tapping echoed through the room. It was subtle at first, barely noticeable—but then it repeated again. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Merlin looked up, her brows furrowing in curiosity. The sound was coming from the window. She crossed the room quickly, her robes trailing behind her, and paused in front of the glass panes.
Perched just outside on the windowsill were three owls, regal and alert, their feathers slightly ruffled from travel. Each of them had a letter tied neatly around one leg. One owl, a tawny barn owl, blinked at her with intelligent eyes, while the other two—were sleek snowy owls—one gave a soft hoot as if urging her to hurry.
Merlin opened the window with care, allowing the cool morning breeze to slip into the room. The owls stepped inside without hesitation. She gently untied the letters from their legs, offering the tired birds a spot to rest and a small bowl of food conjured with a flick of her wand. They settled down with quiet gratitude.
Her eyes dropped to the letters now in her hand. Two were addressed to Arthur in elegant handwriting while one was addressed to her. The first bore the official seal of Gringotts Wizarding Bank, its emblem embossed in gold. Her eyebrows rose at the sight.
“Oh… then this most likely means it’s finally opening day,” she murmured thoughtfully. “About time.”
Arthur’s second envelope and the envelope addressed to her caught her attention even more. They were identical, the parchment was thick and creamy, and pressed into the wax seal was a crest divided into four equal parts—each bearing the emblem of one of Hogwarts' noble houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.
A small smile tugged at her lips. “Heh… Art’s going to have a field day with this one,” she said aloud to no one in particular.
It was official. Arthur and Merlin's acceptance letter to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had arrived.
Comments
Nazarickk
Thanks for the chapter
Rogue_Eagle99
If you remember from a few chapters ago, maybe very early in the series, she wants him to know what a normal childhood is before revealing everything whether by choice or by fate
Cobalt
So is she like trying to get arthur to enjoy school and his childhood before yaknow, he faces the pressure of having to rule britain
