Heavy Is The Crown (Harry Potter × Arthurian Legend)

[Third Person's PoV] 

Arthur woke up earlier than everyone else, not out of necessity, but out of habit. Years of structured morning routines had hardwired him to rise before the sun, and even though life inside a castle was bound to be different—less private, more chaotic—he intended to stick to his schedule as best as he could. Adapting would be a challenge, but he had never been one to shy away from one.

With a flick of his wand, his sleepwear transformed into snug training clothes, tailored for ease of movement. No hesitation, no stretching—he dropped to the ground and began doing push-ups with fluid ease, balancing on one arm. The other was tucked neatly behind his back, his expression set in hard focus.

'It's going to take a while to adjust to this new rhythm,' he thought, eyebrows furrowing slightly as his body moved in a steady, mechanical rhythm. 'Everything feels off… But I'll use this first week to rebuild a new routine. I hate feeling this disoriented.' 

After several sets which lasted close to an hour, he switched arms, the motion as fluid as a practiced dance, he kept going, pushing his body until he began to sweat. Beads of sweat had already begun forming on his brow and trailing down the sides of his face. His mind wandered as his muscles worked—he considered what the week might hold. No solid plan yet, other than settling in and, perhaps, letting himself enjoy the experience for once. He wouldn't mind just having fun, in fact he was looking forwards to it, what's life without a little bit of fun.

A few more minutes passed. Arthur moved through an entire series of exercises: push-ups, core holds, squats, and eventually transitioned into a handstand. He balanced steadily on both hands at first, shifting into a pushing handstand. Atop his upturned feet, Cosmo, his small companion was perched casually—rising and falling with each movement as if riding a gentle wave.

The quiet rustling of blankets signaled someone else waking up. Neville, who was sleeping in the bed directly across from Arthur's, sat up groggily. His eyes were still bleary with sleep. But as they adjusted, he froze in place, staring in stunned confusion at Arthur.

Neville blinked. Once. Twice. "I see," he muttered sleepily, rubbing his eyes. "I'm still dreaming. That must be it. Just need to wake up from this weird dream…" He flopped back onto his pillow and groaned.

Arthur chuckled softly under his breath. A drop of sweat slid off his nose and hit the wooden floor beneath him with a quiet plip. He tapped Cosmo gently with his toes, and the little creature fluttered down from his feet, landing on his bed and bouncing excitedly.

With a controlled motion, Arthur flipped himself upright, landing cleanly on his feet. He sighed, rolling his shoulders to work out the tightness. "What a hassle…" he muttered, heading off to get dressed for his first class.

---

Later that morning, freshly groomed and wearing his school robes, Arthur made his way through the corridors toward his first lesson of the day: Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall. Thanks to his spontaneous castle exploration the previous night, he already had a good idea of how to navigate the place. Cosmo rode atop his shoulders, looking particularly proud of himself.

Just a few steps ahead of the classroom, Arthur heard the heavy, trudging footsteps of someone behind him. Turning, he spotted Lance approaching with a faint scowl etched across his face, his posture straight but his gait sluggish. He wore an expression that tried—and failed—to appear stoic.

Arthur waited, raising an eyebrow as Lance drew closer. "What's wrong? Not a morning person? Or did you just not get enough sleep?"

"Both," Lance grumbled, brushing past him to open the classroom door. "And much more."

The room was already filling with students. Rows of desks lined the large space, and Professor McGonagall stood near the front, leaning against her desk with arms folded, her wand loosely held as her sharp eyes scanned the room. She didn't speak—her presence alone demanded attention.

Students were naturally gravitating toward their respective housemates. Friend groups and dormitory loyalties kicked in as everyone began to cluster in familiar colors and crests. Arthur, however, didn't bother with that. Neither did Lance. Without hesitation, they both took a seat next to each other, ignoring the subtle glances from their peers.

"I had a routine," Lance muttered, staring blankly ahead. "A strict, dependable, structured routine. I've followed it for most of my life. And now… everything's out of order. It displeases me greatly. Change is not something I find agreeable."

Arthur exhaled through his nose in agreement. "I get it. I had a routine too. Right now, I'm just planning to use this week to figure out how to rework mine. Something manageable."

Lance nodded slowly, rubbing his eyes. "I should do the same. I feel… like I can't function properly without a sense of order. It's bizarre. Like walking through fog with no compass."

Arthur laughed quietly, not mockingly, but out of shared understanding and finding his choices of words amusing. "It certainly is. You know, we might as well work on it together. I get the feeling most of our classes will overlap anyway, and it'll help to compare notes while we adjust."

Lance nodded thoughtfully. "I wouldn't mind—"

"What do you think you're doing?" a voice cut in sharply, laced with disdain.

Three figures had stopped by their table. Arthur and Lance turned their heads to see Draco Malfoy standing smugly with his ever-present shadows, Crabbe and Goyle, flanking him. All three wore the green-trimmed robes of Slytherin, their expressions ranging from arrogant to blankly menacing.

Lance raised an eyebrow, more curious than annoyed, as he noticed that Malfoy was staring directly at him. "What?" he asked in his usual stoic tone.

Malfoy sneered. "Have you been living under a rock or something? Everyone knows Gryffindor and Slytherin don't mix. You're not supposed to sit with people from… other houses." His gaze dropped to Arthur, eyes narrowing. "Especially ones beneath us."

Arthur merely lifted an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. 'Beneath you? Did he just say I was beneath him? Oh, you sweet, ignorant boy…' he thought, resisting the urge to burst out laughing.

Lance glanced at Arthur for a moment, noting his calm, almost entertained expression. Then he turned back to Malfoy, his voice genuinely curious.

"Is it against the rules to sit with someone from another house?"

Malfoy faltered for a second, caught off guard. "Uh, well, no… I don't think it's written anywhere. But it's not really encouraged. You'll be seen as a traitor."

Lance turned forward, raising his hand slightly—just enough for Professor McGonagall to notice.

She raised an eyebrow, her gaze flicking to him. "Yes? What is it?"

"Is it against the rules to sit with someone from a different house?" Lance asked, completely serious.

"No," she replied briskly. "You may sit wherever you feel most comfortable, so long as it does not cause disruption."

"Thank you for clarifying, Professor." Lance gave a respectful nod and even bowed slightly in his seat.

How polite, McGonagall mused silently with a subtle, approving nod.

Turning back toward Malfoy, Lance said, "It's not against the rules, and I don't believe my actions are aiding another house in any competitive sense. I am, quite literally, just sitting. To label someone a traitor for such a minor choice seems—illogical. So, I think I'll remain where I am. But thank you for the warning, I appreciate it."

Malfoy scoffed, clearly unimpressed. "Suit yourself. But when your own house turns its back on you, don't say I didn't warn you." With that, he turned on his heel and stalked off, Crabbe and Goyle lumbering after him.

As more students filled the classroom, Lance glanced at Arthur, still visibly puzzled. "Do you have any idea what that was all about?"

Arthur chuckled lightly and leaned back in his seat. "The houses are very competitive with each other, especially Gryffindor and Slytherin. It's a bit of an old rivalry—goes back generations. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff have their moments too, but it's mostly our two houses. The house cup fuels it, but honestly? Some people just like having someone to feel superior to."

"I see…" Lance nodded slowly. "I suppose competition between groups is only natural in a place like this."

Arthur leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "Thanks, by the way. I appreciate it."

Lance furrowed his brow slightly. "Thanks for what?"

Arthur just smiled and shook his head. "Nothing. Forget it."

Before the conversation could continue, Professor McGonagall raised her voice over the growing murmur in the room. "Alright then, everyone quiet down and remain seated—"

But before she could begin, the door creaked open again. All eyes turned as Harry and Ron stumbled inside, breathing heavily and looking a bit disheveled.

"Sorry, Professor…" Ron panted, still catching his breath.

"We got lost," Harry added, trying to look composed despite the redness in his cheeks.

McGonagall exhaled slowly, closing her eyes for a moment. "I understand the castle can be confusing at first, and it is your first day. So I'll be lenient—this time. But do not make a habit of it. Take your seats and don't interrupt again."

"Yes, Professor," Ron said quickly, trying to hide his embarrassment.

"Sorry, Professor," Harry echoed as they scurried to the only two empty seats near the back.

Professor McGonagall nodded and finally turned to face the rest of the class. "Now then, as I was saying—welcome to your first lesson in Transfiguration, one of the most complex and dangerous branches of magic you will study at Hogwarts…"

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