Harry potter: I am the king of United Kingdom

Arthur Pendragon II sat in the grand chamber of the royal palace, staring out through a massive arched window that framed the rolling hills of the kingdom. The sun hung low on the horizon, casting a warm, golden light over the sprawling gardens and castle walls. The vastness of the world outside the window was both awe-inspiring and intimidating, especially for a young boy of five. Yet, Arthur felt the weight of his new life pressing down on him in ways he hadn't expected. His future had already been written for him, and there was no escaping the role he was to play.

As the heir to the throne, he was no longer just a child. He was the prince of the United Kingdom, with all the responsibilities that came with it. And though his mother, Queen Morgana, had showered him with love and care, she had also made it clear that the life ahead would not be easy.

Arthur's fingers traced the cool stone of the window frame, his mind racing. The wind magic was already a part of him, something that flowed through his veins like blood. His appearance was that of Yuno, with his black hair and sharp features, but his heart was filled with the quiet resolve of a ruler. He could feel the presence of magic surrounding him, calling to him. He was meant to harness it, to become not just a king, but a powerful king. But there was much he needed to learn.

The door behind him creaked open, and the sound of footsteps entering the room pulled Arthur from his thoughts. He turned to find his mother, Queen Morgana, standing in the doorway, her regal presence filling the room. She had an air of quiet strength about her, the kind that Arthur had come to admire. Her eyes, deep and knowing, met his as she approached.

"Arthur," she said softly, her voice rich with authority. "Your lessons begin today."

Arthur stood up, straightening his posture, the title of "prince" weighing heavily on his young shoulders. "I am ready, Mother."

Queen Morgana smiled gently, though there was a glint of something unreadable in her eyes. "I know you are, my son. I have sent for teachers who will guide you in the ways of magic, swordsmanship, and politics. You are destined to be more than just a ruler—you are destined to be a king of power and wisdom."

Arthur nodded, feeling a surge of determination. His life, already shaped by fate, would be molded further by the lessons he was about to undertake. He would not simply sit on a throne; he would command the respect of those around him and ensure the safety of the kingdom.

"Your magic teacher will arrive shortly," Queen Morgana continued. "And your swordsmanship instructor will follow soon after. Both will be crucial in shaping the future you are to have. But first, I must prepare you for the intricacies of ruling. Political alliances, strategy, and diplomacy… these are the skills you will need to master."

Arthur had already been briefed on the importance of these lessons. He understood that kingship was not just about strength—it was about knowledge, negotiation, and the ability to lead. His mother had ensured that he was well aware of the role he would play in the future, and now, it was time to begin his education.

The doors to the chamber opened again, and this time, a man entered—a tall figure cloaked in dark robes. His face was stern, with a pair of sharp blue eyes that seemed to pierce through Arthur. He carried himself with an air of authority, and the faint trace of magic crackled in the air around him.

"Arthur Pendragon II," the man said, his voice deep and measured. "I am Eamon Blackwood, your magic instructor. I have been sent by your mother to help you master the arts of magic."

Arthur gave a polite bow, though inside, he was eager to begin. Magic—this was the part of his destiny that excited him most. His new abilities had already manifested, but he knew that to truly master them, he needed guidance. Eamon's presence felt like a promise of something greater, and Arthur was ready to grasp it.

Eamon stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. "I sense the wind within you," he said, his voice carrying an edge of approval. "But magic is not just about power—it is about control. You will learn to command your magic, to bend it to your will. Your wind magic will become an extension of your very soul."

Arthur nodded, his excitement barely contained. "I'm ready, Master Blackwood."

Eamon smiled faintly, the hint of pride in his eyes. "Good. Let us begin."

The lessons were long and intense. Eamon Blackwood was a stern but patient teacher, demanding precision and control in every spell. Arthur's magic surged through him in waves—sometimes wild and uncontrollable, other times calm and focused. The wind, once a mere concept to him, began to take form. He could summon gentle gusts with a flick of his hand, or summon a violent storm when his emotions stirred. But Eamon taught him to temper his instincts with discipline.

In the quiet of the palace's training hall, Arthur would practice for hours, calling the wind into being. The sound of his magic was like the rustle of leaves on a stormy day, a constant reminder of the power he wielded. He knew that one day, he would need to control it, not just for himself, but for the kingdom.

But magic was not the only thing Arthur needed to master. The door to the training room opened once again, and this time, an older man entered—a warrior with a weathered face and a body that spoke of decades of battle experience. His sword was slung over his back, and his eyes were sharp, reflecting a lifetime of discipline.

"Prince Arthur," the man greeted, his voice gruff but respectful. "I am Sir Garrick, your swordsmanship instructor. Your mother has requested that I teach you the ways of the blade."

Arthur stood straighter, his small frame radiating the same determination that had propelled him to this point. He had always known that a king must be more than a scholar or a magician—he must also be a warrior. The sword, with its history of kings and knights, would be a symbol of his strength and resolve.

"I'm honoured to learn from you, Sir Garrick," Arthur said, bowing his head respectfully.

Garrick nodded, his eyes gleaming with approval. "We will start with the basics, Prince. Your foundation must be solid before you can wield a blade with the precision and skill of a true knight."

And so, Arthur's days became filled with the clash of steel and the whispers of magic. In the mornings, he would study the ancient texts of politics and diplomacy, learning the art of ruling from his mother's trusted advisors. He learned the intricacies of managing alliances, the delicate dance of balancing power between kingdoms, and the weight of responsibility that came with each decision. In the afternoons, he would wield a sword with Sir Garrick, practicing strikes and parries, each movement bringing him closer to becoming the knight he was meant to be.

By evening, he would return to his lessons with Eamon Blackwood, honing his wind magic, mastering spells that were as fluid and unpredictable as the winds themselves. He was a quick study, his natural talent for magic making the process faster than even his teacher had anticipated.

Through it all, Queen Morgana watched with pride as her son grew. She knew the road ahead would be difficult, but she had no doubt that Arthur would rise to the challenge. He was her heir, the one who would one day rule the United Kingdom—perhaps even the world. But for now, he was still just a boy, learning the path that lay before him. And she was determined to ensure that he had the skills, knowledge, and strength to face whatever trials would come his way.

The lessons continued, each one building upon the last. And as Arthur grew, so too did his sense of purpose. The winds whispered of great things to come. He was not just the son of a queen; he was the heir to a throne, the ruler of a magical kingdom. And one day, when the time came, he would be ready to claim it.