[Third Person POV]
Arthur walked between Merlin and Nicholas as they made their way down the familiar cobbled streets toward the Flamel residence. The late afternoon light pooled like gold across the stones, carrying with it the faint scent of freshly baked bread from nearby shops.
Nicholas glanced at Arthur's guilty expression and let out a deep, amused chuckle. "Arthur," he said, eyes twinkling, "do you seriously believe that Perenelle and I aren't aware that there's more to you than meets the eye? We know there are things you're keeping to yourself—secrets you haven't shared yet."
Arthur stiffened, but Nicholas's tone was gentle, almost teasing.
"We may be your guardians," Nicholas continued, reaching over to affectionately ruffle Arthur's hair, "but that doesn't mean we're entitled to every part of your story. It's perfectly fine to keep some things hidden until you're ready. You only share when you wish to, not because anyone demands it."
Merlin, walking on Arthur's other side, shot Nicholas a look of warm approval. "Wise words, Nicholas," she said with a small smile. Her gaze slid to Arthur, and she let out a soft chuckle when she noticed the way his ears were reddening.
"You know," Arthur muttered, smoothing his hair back into place, "you being all nice about it just makes me feel more guilty…"
His embarrassment faded as his face took on a more serious look. "But I don't mind sharing with the two of you. You deserve at least that much."
Nicholas nodded, his expression softening even further. "All right. Just promise me you won't feel forced to share. That's the only thing that matters."
Arthur gave a small, earnest nod as they reached the familiar stone steps of the Flamel home. Nicholas gave the door a polite knock before pushing it open. "We've arrived!" he announced warmly.
A rapid patter of footsteps came from within. Perenelle appeared almost instantly, wiping her hands on a flour-dusted apron. Her eyes sparkled with overwhelming joy the moment she spotted Merlin and Arthur.
"Art! Mel!" she exclaimed, her French accent thick with excitement. Before either of them could react, she crossed the room with startling speed for a woman her age and pulled them both into a warm, almost crushing embrace. "It's so good to have you home for the holidays!"
Arthur and Merlin exchanged a glance over Perenelle's shoulder at the word home and shared a quiet smile.
"You must tell me everything about your time at Hogwarts," Perenelle said breathlessly after finally releasing them. "Did you two have fun?"
"Now, now, Penny," Nicholas said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Let them breathe a little, will you? They've just come from a long journey. They must be exhausted."
"Oh, goodness, you're absolutely right," Perenelle said, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. "Forgive me—I let my emotions run away again."
Arthur and Merlin chuckled softly at her flustered apology.
"Why don't you two head upstairs and settle in?" Nicholas suggested. "Put your things away and change into something comfortable. Lunch will be ready soon."
"I'm almost finished," Perenelle added with a bright smile. "By the time you're done, everything should be on the table."
After exchanging thanks and warm smiles, Arthur and Merlin climbed the staircase to their room, the wooden steps creaking familiarly beneath their feet. They unpacked their trunks, changed into more comfortable clothes, and allowed themselves a few quiet moments to breathe in the comforting scent of herbs, wood polish, and faint traces of parchment that filled the house.
…
When they finally returned, the dining table was a feast of color and aroma. Platters of French dishes—roasted duck with orange glaze, creamy gratin, fresh baguettes still warm from the oven—covered every inch of polished wood, filling the house with a rich, mouthwatering fragrance that made stomachs growl.
Everyone sat together, laughter already buzzing through the air. Even Cosmo and Sylvia were there, sitting obediently by Arthur's chair with their own small bowls of food, tails flicking happily.
As they ate, Arthur and Merlin began to share stories of their first months at Hogwarts, their voices animated as they recounted late-night adventures. Perenelle leaned forward eagerly, eyes sparkling as she hung on every word.
"What?" she exclaimed at one particularly daring tale. "Did you seriously get called to the Headmaster's office within your first week of school?"
Arthur's cheeks flushed pink as Nicholas burst into hearty laughter. "And for fighting, no less—sword fighting!" he roared, nearly spilling his wine.
"Honestly, you are the last person I would have suspected to get into trouble," Perenelle said, shaking her head in mild disbelief, though the amused sparkle in her eyes betrayed her delight.
Arthur's cheeks burned hotter under her teasing gaze—and under the knowing looks that both Nicholas and Merlin gave him. "It wasn't exactly a fight," he muttered, fidgeting with his napkin. "More like… an honorary duel between two people. A mutual agreement, really."
Nicholas chuckled low in his throat. "Ah, so a duel. That makes it better, of course," he teased, earning a small laugh from Merlin.
Their conversation flowed easily, shifting from adventures to classes and teachers. Arthur's tone grew animated as he recounted their days at Hogwarts, until one name made his expression darken.
"The teachers were great—most of them were fun… And then there was Snape," Arthur said, narrowing his eyes, speaking as if the name itself was a slur.
Nicholas raised a curious brow. "Was he truly that bad? You're not usually one to speak poorly of anyone."
"Like you wouldn't believe," Arthur sighed, leaning back in his chair. "It's as if he holds some personal grudge against me—and I haven't even done anything to deserve it."
Perenelle and Nicholas exchanged a quiet, secret smile. Arthur was normally so composed, so remarkably mature for his age, that moments like this—grumbling about a disliked teacher—reminded them that beneath the poise was still a boy.
Merlin picked up the story, recounting how Arthur had been recruited for Quidditch and how astonishingly well he played. Their guardians immediately began showering him with praise, which only deepened Arthur's blush.
The meal continued in a haze of laughter and warm conversation until the plates were spotless and their stomachs comfortably full. Arthur dabbed at his lips with a cloth and set it gently on the table. "Thank you for the meal," he said, his voice soft with sincerity. "It was delicious—one could taste the love in every bite, Grandma Penny."
Perenelle beamed, reaching over to affectionately pinch his cheek.
"I have to agree," Merlin added with a graceful nod. "Your cooking has only gotten better, Perenelle. Truly, you've outdone yourself."
"Oh, stop it, both of you," Perenelle said, flustered. Her cheeks flushed as she pressed her hands to them, though her smile betrayed her pleasure at the compliments.
Arthur caught Merlin's eye, and she gave him a small, reassuring nod. Taking a steadying breath, he lowered his napkin and placed it beside his plate.
Nicholas began to rise to clear the table, but Arthur lifted a hand to stop him. "Before you go… there are a few things I need to say."
Something in his tone made Nicholas pause. He shared a brief look with Perenelle before slowly settling back into his seat.
Arthur's gaze swept over them, steady but tinged with guilt. "First, I want to apologize," he began, voice low but firm. "You welcomed me into your home. You shared your knowledge, your kindness… you even treated me as family. And yet, I've lied to you. I've hidden truths from you both. For that, I am truly sorry."
Perenelle's eyes softened with maternal warmth. "Sweetheart, I'm sure you had your reasons," she said gently. "There's no need to punish yourself for it."
Nicholas nodded, his smile kind. "Arthur, we've always known you were keeping things close to your chest. But we've also always trusted your heart. It's clear you're a good kid, the mere fact that you're feeling guilty makes that perfectly clear. Whatever you held back, I'm certain it wasn't out of malice."
Arthur exhaled slowly, shoulders relaxing—only to square again as a quiet resolve settled over him.
The air itself seemed to shift.
It was subtle at first: a faint pressure, a stirring that made the candles flicker. Then it grew undeniable—a regal presence rolling off Arthur like a rising tide. Nicholas and Perenelle stiffened instinctively, eyes widening as the boy before them seemed to stand taller, older, greater.
"Arthur?" Perenelle asked, her voice a tentative whisper.
Arthur rose to his feet pushing his chair back. "Let's begin," he said calmly, "with a proper introduction."
He lifted his gloved hand and made a sweeping motion over his other hand. The disillusionment charm unraveled, revealing a ring upon his finger—a majestic crest of a sword entwined with a dragon. The emblem glowed faintly, pulsing with ancient magic.
"Though I am known to most as Arthur King," he declared, his voice carrying a quiet authority that seemed to resonate through the very walls, "that name is merely an alias I adopted to conceal my heritage. In truth, my name is Artorius 'Arthur' Lionheart Pendragon—the last living member and current head of the ancient House of Pendragon."
The room fell deathly silent.
"Eh?" Perenelle blinked rapidly, her gaze distant as if her mind were struggling to reconcile the revelation.
"Wha—cough! cough!" Nicholas choked on his own breath, nearly toppling from his chair. "What!?!" he gasped, eyes wide as saucers.
They turned to Arthur in unison, their disbelief shattering into a single, thunderous exclamation:
"PENDRAGON!?"
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