Chapitre 9: 09. A Day of Firsts
Beyond Avalon's walls, a ripple of worry spread through the wizarding world. At Number Four, Privet Drive, the Dursleys fretted and argued, unsure whether they should attempt to find Harry or keep to their own world and wait. Meanwhile, back at Hogwarts, Dumbledore, and McGonagall debated his whereabouts, baffled by the powerful magic that seemed to mask his presence even from their seasoned abilities. But the outside world's worry couldn't reach the heart of Avalon, where Harry was beginning to experience comfort and belonging for the first time.
Inside Avalon, Arthur stepped out of the elevator and into the lobby, his gaze sweeping over the room as he mentally prepared for the day ahead. A sense of excitement thrummed in his veins, an eagerness he hadn't felt in a long time. Today wasn't just another day spent managing Avalon; today was the beginning of something new, something he hadn't dared to imagine before. Today, he would take his first steps into the world of wizarding magic.
"Alright, Avalon," he said aloud, a grin spreading across his face, "let's do this."
Avalon's chuckle echoed softly in his mind, a gentle sound of amusement and encouragement. "Very well, Arthur. I've made a few… modifications to your chamber that should help with your studies. But remember, as the concierge of Avalon, you can't simply hide yourself away. I'd suggest taking a beginner's book to the front desk with you."
Arthur nodded, feeling Avalon's familiar guidance settle him. The front desk would be his post, after all, even if he spent his spare moments practicing spells. He turned and made his way to his chamber, feeling Avalon's presence almost as though it were leading him. When he reached his quarters, he stopped in surprise.
The small bookshelf in the corner, which had once been sparsely filled, was now brimming with neatly arranged books in leather bindings, each title glowing faintly in elegant, golden script. Arthur ran his fingers over the spines, reading the titles with a sense of awe. He found books on magical theory, and potion-making, and—his hand stopped on a slim volume titled The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1.
"Perfect place to start," he murmured to himself, tucking the book under his arm and heading back to the front desk.
Settling behind the counter, Arthur opened the book and began to read, his focus intense as he absorbed the basics of magic in the wizarding world. He scanned through sections on spell-casting fundamentals, wand movements, and incantations, his mind buzzing with possibilities. But before long, he stumbled upon a fundamental roadblock: the book emphasized the necessity of a wand.
Arthur chuckled, glancing down at his empty hands. "Looks like I'm missing something important, Avalon. Can you… help me with a wand?"
Avalon's response came with a hint of caution in its tone. "I can provide you with a training wand, though it may lack the strength of one that truly matches your essence. Creating wands is a delicate task, and to wield a wand that fully aligns with you, you may need to visit a certain wandmaker. But this training wand will serve for now."
Gratitude filled Arthur's expression. "Thank you, Avalon. A training wand is more than enough to get me started."
A faint shimmer appeared beside him, and a simple wand materialized on the counter. Made from a light, unfinished wood, it was plain in design but felt steady in his hand when he picked it up. Arthur sensed a quiet spark of magic within it, a warmth that suggested it would serve him as a starting point. It wasn't powerful, but it was more than he could have hoped for.
With the training wand in hand, Arthur opened The Standard Book of Spells to the first chapter, focusing on the instructions for a simple Lumos charm. He read through the wand movements and incantations carefully, noting Avalon's encouraging presence beside him, and guiding him with each attempt.
A thrill of anticipation ran through him as he raised the wand, saying the word aloud, "Lumos."
A faint glow appeared at the tip of the wand—a flicker, but enough to signal that he was beginning to connect with the magic in Avalon. His heart raced with excitement. He wasn't just reading about magic now; he was experiencing it, discovering something new, not only about Avalon but about himself.
He practiced until he felt a soft warmth settle around him, Avalon's quiet approval merging with his own sense of accomplishment. Today, he realized, he was not only Avalon's concierge but a student—one who was learning, adapting, and becoming part of the magic that had found him here.
Meanwhile, Harry was enjoying a leisurely morning in his suite, a small pot of tea and a plate of cakes at his side as he leafed through an array of books on his table. His curiosity had led him from one subject to the next: Potions, Charms, a thick volume on the magical creatures of the wizarding world. Each page was a doorway to new ideas, new histories, and small mysteries that stirred his mind in a way he'd never experienced at the Dursleys.
He picked up A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration and let out a quiet chuckle at the warnings about turning inanimate objects into animals by mistake. A few pages later, he had moved on to another book, a comprehensive guide on magical plants and potions, but his gaze kept drifting to the titles of other books he hadn't yet touched. It felt as though he was glimpsing secrets and worlds hidden from Muggles, a treasure trove of knowledge that, until now, he hadn't known existed.
After a while, he picked up a thin, dark-covered book titled The Art of Wandless Magic—a text that looked old, its pages delicate yet filled with intricate illustrations. As he skimmed the introduction, he realized it was from Uagadou, an African school of magic he'd never heard of. He scanned through it eagerly, reading about how witches and wizards from Uagadou traditionally practiced magic without wands, harnessing the power of spells through sheer intent and focus.
A passage in the book explains, "The wand is a European invention. At Uagadou, students learn to channel their magic through gesture and thought, making the use of wands unnecessary for basic spells."
The thought thrilled Harry. He'd never considered that magic could be performed without a wand, and the idea of being able to use magic independently felt like a revelation. He kept reading, scanning through examples of spells that could be done wandlessly with practice and patience.
Harry paused at the instructions for a simple Mending Charm, the Mending Charm (Reparo), which could repair small objects. It seemed straightforward enough, and he thought of his broken glasses—the cracks in the lenses a constant annoyance. Taking a deep breath, he focused his mind, following the book's instructions as best as he could.
He placed his fingers on the cracked frame and whispered, "Reparo," trying to push his intention into the charm.
A faint warmth stirred in his fingertips, a small pulse of magic that sent a flicker of hope through him, though his glasses remained stubbornly cracked. Even so, the fact that he'd felt something gave him a sense of accomplishment he hadn't expected. The idea of wandless magic wasn't just a possibility—it was something within reach, a piece of the magical world he could begin to explore on his own terms.
He practiced for hours, moving from one book to the next, his fingers brushing over his broken glasses between chapters, attempting the Mending Charm again and again. Though he hadn't succeeded yet, he felt an excitement building, a quiet satisfaction in the simple act of trying.
The day drifted by unnoticed, and by the time his stomach rumbled in protest, he looked up and realized it was already evening. Reluctantly, he set the book aside and slid his cracked glasses back on, tucking his discoveries away in his mind. He left his room with a sense of contentment and a growing curiosity about what else Avalon might reveal.
As he entered the elevator to the main floor, his mind buzzed with questions, and his heart felt lighter than it had in years.
As the elevator doors opened onto the lobby, Harry stepped out, his thoughts still swirling with everything he'd read. The spells, the magical creatures, and the tales of wandless magic were fresh in his mind, a wonderful distraction from his grumbling stomach. He wandered toward the front desk, noticing Arthur was there, standing beside an open book with a slender wand resting beside it.
Arthur looked up, a warm smile crossing his face. "Hello, Harry. What can I do for you?"
Harry's stomach gave a low, audible growl, and he blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I, uh… I was wondering what's for dinner."
Arthur chuckled softly, his eyes bright with amusement. "Well, that depends. Would you like to have dinner in your room, or…" He paused, gesturing grandly with one hand. "...in our newly established dining room?"
Harry blinked, glancing around as he took in Arthur's words. For the first time, he noticed subtle changes to Avalon's lobby. The layout was still familiar, but something felt different, a touch of refinement he hadn't noticed before. The hairline cracks in the walls were now filled, and the surfaces seemed to gleam with a fresh polish. There was a completeness to the space, a feeling of quiet perfection that hadn't been there before.
And then, as Arthur's words sank in, Harry's eyes widened. Just off to the side of the lobby was a new room—a dining room he hadn't seen until now. Its polished tables and soft, golden lighting gave it an inviting warmth that drew him in immediately.
Arthur chuckled again at Harry's awestruck expression. "Come on," he said with a smile. "I think you'll enjoy seeing this new addition up close."
Harry followed Arthur into the dining room, still marveling at the space. The tables were carefully arranged, each with a small candle flickering in the center, casting a warm glow that softened the room's edges. The chairs looked plush and comfortable, arranged in a way that made the room feel both elegant and welcoming.
"Wow…" Harry murmured, his gaze sweeping over every detail. Avalon felt alive in a way he could hardly describe as if the sanctuary itself were creating spaces to meet his every need. He felt a sudden surge of gratitude, and when he looked back at Arthur, he found the concierge watching him with a knowing smile.
"So, Harry," Arthur said gently, "what's your favorite food?"
Harry thought for a moment, then grinned. "Treacle tart."
Arthur's smile widened. "Treacle tart, then. Give me a few minutes, and I'll have it ready."
With a nod, Harry watched as Arthur disappeared into the dining room's kitchen. He wandered around the lobby, taking in the small details that made Avalon feel almost alive, the sense of something magical just beneath the surface.
Arthur slipped into the kitchen, a subtle smile lingering on his lips as he thought of Harry's request. Treacle tart. It was a simple dish but one filled with warmth and comfort—a perfect choice for Harry. He moved through the kitchen with a quiet focus, gathering the ingredients Avalon had provided. The counters were stocked with everything he needed: golden syrup, breadcrumbs, fresh lemons, and a flaky, pre-made pastry crust that shimmered with an otherworldly light.
As he worked, he felt an odd sensation ripple through him, a faint glow in his mind as Avalon's familiar voice echoed in his thoughts.
[System Notification: New Skill Acquired: Basic Cooking]
[Your understanding of food preparation has deepened, allowing you to approach cooking with skill and care.]
Arthur smiled, suppressing the excitement of his newly acquired skill. It was the first time he acquired a new skill, 'So, this is how I got a new skill.' It wasn't much, but the subtle guidance helped him work with more ease and precision than he'd expected.
He squeezed lemon juice into a bowl, the fresh citrus scent filling the air as he mixed it with the golden syrup, breadcrumbs, and a touch of butter. Carefully, he poured the mixture into the tart crust and slid it into the oven, letting the warm, comforting scent of treacle tart waft through the dining room. He glanced through the small window in the kitchen door, catching a glimpse of Harry seated at the table, his gaze wandering in quiet awe around Avalon's newest space.
As Arthur waited for the tart to bake, a familiar ache surfaced—a memory of simpler times when he'd cooked with care and love, a time when his life had been whole. His mind wandered back to evenings spent with his family, when Amanda would sit at the counter and chat while he made dinner, and his son would run around, filling the house with laughter. Even after their son passed, he and Amanda had shared quiet meals, moments that held them together despite the grief. But as the years went on, even those silences grew hollow, and the weight of their loss became too much. Eventually, Amanda had asked for a divorce, and though he'd understood, he'd felt as though his anchor had been pulled away, leaving him adrift.
Now, standing in Avalon's kitchen, preparing food for someone else for the first time since arriving here, Arthur felt something shift within him. This moment, this meal, felt like a new beginning—a chance to create memories not tied to the past but rooted in the present. He knew he would always love Amanda, and would always carry the memories of their life together, but perhaps Avalon would allow him to let go of the hurt that accompanied them. Maybe here, he could find peace, remembering his family without letting it weigh him down.
The timer chimed softly, pulling him back to the present. Arthur removed the tart from the oven, its golden surface glistening with a warmth that matched the room's soft glow. He plated a generous slice and carried it out to Harry, setting it gently in front of him.
"Here you go, Harry," Arthur said with a warm smile. "One treacle tart, just as you ordered."
Harry looked down at the tart, his eyes wide with a mixture of awe and anticipation. It was the first time anyone had made him something like this, a warm, fresh meal prepared with such care. For years, his dinners had been rushed and lonely, often eaten in solitude at the Dursleys' table. But here, the warmth of the tart and Arthur's kind presence made it feel… different as if the meal itself held a quiet, unspoken promise of comfort.
"Thank you," Harry said softly, looking up at Arthur with genuine gratitude. But just as he was about to take a bite, he paused, glancing at the empty seat across from him. "Would you… would you eat with me, Arthur?"
Arthur hesitated, a pang of surprise mixing with a quiet longing he hadn't expected. But the hopeful look in Harry's eyes softened his resolve. With a gentle nod, he settled into the seat across from him.
Harry took his first bite, and a quiet sense of wonder crossed his face. It was warm and sweet, the flavors rich but simple, exactly what he'd imagined treacle tart to taste like. As he ate, he felt a happiness bloom inside him, a feeling he rarely felt—someone cared about him enough to share a meal. For the first time, he wasn't alone or being ignored; he was seen and cared for, and that made every bite taste even better.
For Arthur, the act of sitting with someone, and sharing food in this quiet room, filled him with a bittersweet nostalgia. It was the first time he'd shared a meal in his new life, and it reminded him of what he'd lost, of his family and the warmth of their home. He thought of Amanda and his son, the laughter that had once filled his world, and the long, quiet silences that had come after. But now, with Harry across from him, he felt a gentle release, a small step toward healing.
As he watched Harry eat, Arthur found himself accepting that his past was part of him, a chapter that would always hold its place. But here, in Avalon, he felt a new sense of purpose, a chance to make peace with his memories. Perhaps Avalon would be the place where he could let go of the grief that had defined him for so long, allowing him to look back with gratitude instead of sorrow.
They ate mostly in silence, but within that silence was a mutual appreciation, an unspoken bond forming between them. Every so often, Harry would glance up, catching Arthur's eye and offering a small, grateful smile. And Arthur would smile back, feeling a quiet satisfaction he hadn't known he needed.
When the meal was done, Harry pushed his plate aside, his face glowing with contentment. "Thank you, Arthur. That was… amazing."
Arthur nodded a warmth in his gaze that went beyond words. "You're very welcome, Harry. It was a pleasure."
They lingered a few moments longer, basking in the comfort of shared company. For Harry, it was a moment of kindness he'd never known, a memory he would carry with him long after. For Arthur, it was a small but important step toward healing, a reminder that even within Avalon's walls, he could find connection, comfort, and perhaps, eventually, peace.
~~~
A/N: Hope you guys enjoy the chapter
Tell me in a comment about it, and gave me suggestions while you're at it
BYEE...👋
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État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone